Everything I have written down here corresponds with the plain truth. That they sentenced my husband on section 58 and sent him to the front in 1942 - I know from what he told me himself. But his return from hell I have seen with my own eyes. Sad and tormenting traces were left in my heart, and what we went through will stick in our minds forever; there is no escape from it.
Honestly, I have been trying five times to write all this down, however, I d id not succeed to collect my thoughts. The war claimed many victims. The people, who defended the fatherland, do not pity themselves, they are being remembered and kept in hounour. But there are those, who perished in Stalin's camps, who hardly survived or became invalids for the rest of their lives; how long has silence been kept about them - the enemies of the people behind barbed wire fences.
My husband, Dmitriy Nikitovich Kanchevskiy (?), born in 1914, also could not escape from this hard fate. Already in the very first days of war he went to the front; he served as a Red Armist in the 24th volunteers' brigade. Near Kirishi station, in the Leningrad region, there was a repair workshop for local weapons. After the battle Germans, too, used to take their weapons there for repair. On the 4th of November 1942 two employees of a special section of the state security entered the dugout: "Who is Kanchevskiy? Lay down your arms, you are arrested!" Hands on his back he was taken away to the interrogation. They tormented him five days and nights: "Admit that you are a Pole and not a Belorussian. Your father is a big landowner, he had wageworkers work for him!" - "You do not believe in our vistory", they said. And all this took place under the muzzles of pistoles levelled at him.
"Well, it means that they accused me wrongly; I am lost", my husband thought. He answered all questions negatively. That he was not a Pole, but a Belorussian, that his father had been a machinist on far-away distances and that he himself was convinced of the vistory. They did not believe him. In the night they called him out every two hours, and finally he made a statement of grave consequences: "I am going to sign, and then you can do with me whatever you want". They sentenced him on section 58 to 10 years. My husband was sent to a camp in the Vologda region, to the island of "Sladkiy".
"It was a horrible nightmare", he later told. There were no human beings, only living corpses, and most of them were military commanders and ordinary soldiers. They were fed with a cloudy broth and a piece of bread, and every day 10-20 people died from blood-tinged diarrhoea. They were buried in graves like firewood. I do not know how he survived, probably because of his youth - he was 28 years old at that time. 9 months later a commission arrived from Moscow. Many were released; my husband belonged to the lucky ones, as well, because he was on the point of dying wretchedly, with already one foot in the grave. He was sent to the Ivanovsk region, to Furmanov. He went there together with a comrade, who had also been sentenced on section 58. For the trip they received two loaves of bread. They went till Dolovitsy station. A village was situated not far from there. They entered a house, nobody was at home; a kerosine lamp stood on the table and beside - the head of a mutton, which had not been singed yet. They wanted to eat it b all means. Nobody was in the house. They took this head an set off for Furmanov. There the cleaning woman gave them a few ration cards and a big can. And thus they ate the head of the mutton. The comrade passed away at the station. A militia man said: "Get him away from here and bury him!" But he is hardly able to stand on his own feet. He went to the regional executive committee and told them everything that had happened. There only worked women. One of them started to reach out to the people ration cards for bread, one 200 grs, the other 300 grs. There was a woman, who had already used up all the ration coupons within half a month only, and now she was crying incessantly.
The regional executive committee sent him to the Issayevsk peat bank. And there I saw a human being, which had just returned from hell. It had not happened by accident that the women working in the regional executive committee had broken into tears. He merely weighed 46 kgs and looked like an old man of 70. He wore frayed trousers and a rope full of holes was tied around his hips serving as a belt. His laced shoes were completely broken, on his head he wore a shabby cap. There was not a single hair on his head.
But there is no world without any good people in it. The director of the peatery was such a good man. He called for the cook and asked him to supply Kanchevskiy (?) wirh better food; apart from that he was given a quilted sweater and wadded trousers. And the director himself donated him his cap and gave the order to mill felt boots for him. Yes, owing to this good man he survivied. The director owned a cow, his wife often brought along milk, but she would not accept any money for it. He was employed as a metalworker and boiler-maker for peat machines; tehre were no men - all had gone to the front. He organized a brigade of 14-15 years' old juveniles.
When my husband had recovered he received a call-up order for the front. The director was annoyed about this decision, because my husband was an experienced specialist. He could not be replaced by anybody else. The director went to the regional administration and succeeded in persuading the authorities that they only drew him up for the reserves.
Now the director has already passed away. We will always keep you in our minds, you good man - and this should always be written in capital letters.
My husband was often tormented by the question, why they had sentenced him and what he had been put into the death camp for. Where can we find the answer? All this probably was an occurance of that time. When the peatery in Issayevsk closed down, we moved over to the peatery in Yakovlevskoye, Privolzhsk district, Ivanovsk region. There the administration also appreciated my husband as being a good worker. But there still went rumours that he was an "enemy of the people", who had been in league with the occupants. The neighbours whispered such things, as well, and did not leave him in peace.
It was a kind of tradition, always on the 9th of May, to let the war participants have the sum of 5 rubels. They sometimes included my husband on their list, but always with a reproachful remark behind. I gave him 5 rubels from my own money and said: "They sent it over from the office", because I did not want him to be shocked.
I will never forget the day when someone from the bookkeeping department, in my presence, phonecalled the regional social welfare office of the Regional Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet-Union: "Did Kanchevskiy participate in the war? Who is he after all?" And this is what they asked, although we had been living here for 20 years already. All this reverberates in the bottoms of our hearts. Sometimes he was distinguished with a certificate of honour (communist-way worker) and the next time they just intended to make clear why he had been in the camp. Once they hung up a list in the office of the "veterans of labour". His and my names were also mentioned, but someone had the opinion to strike us off - he worked with the occupants, and she was also involved; she was his accomplice!
All this we had to endure. My husband died from a heart disease in the August of 1983; he had always been ill; evidently, these were the aftereffects of the camp detention and all the unjustified insults and offences. On the 4th of January 1989 I received a certificate from Moscow saying that the bill of indictment, issued by the Leningrad regional military tribunal on the 23.11.1942 concerning Dmitriy Nikitovich Kanchevskiy, born in 1914, Red Armist of the 24th volunteers' brigade till his arrest on the 04.11.1942, had been looked into again and declared void. The file had been closed in lack of factual findings and evidence.
D.N. Kanchevskiy was rehabilitated in the above matter, but he has already died - he is no longer among the living.
Kanchevskaya - veteran of labour, widow of a victim of reprisals