In the previous story („Sibirische Zeitung plus“, No. 8, 2000) I told the readers that the contacts with my cousin Rudolf Mitelmaier suddenly broke off, when they arrested him at the age of 15 and sent him to the labour army. - Hurrah! I have been knocking at some doors for a very long time and finally got – admission, i. e. I managed to trace him! He gave me a sign of life by writing a warmhearted letter. We have not seen eachother for 30 years. After he had lost his two sons, he went away to Kaliningrad, afterwards Saransk and then Nizhniy Novgorod. All the time he was working hard, always working, working. Unfortunately, he was quite unsparing of himself. He is now an invalid of the 2nd grade. He survived two heart attacks and ... has already started to work in his garden again – the kitchen garden. He remarried and, by a merciful stroke of fate, can now enjoy to associate with children again –his wife’s grandchildren.
However, I would like to tell you about another cousin of mine – the son of aunt Lida. He was the first grandson of grandma and grandpa Resch. His name was Georgiy – to the honour of his grandfather. His mother was a German, his father – the Pole Roman Zaranek. This was the reason for why they were not sent into internal exile together with us ... They suffered a completely different fate. We used to call little Georgiy – Zhorzhik. After him Irina was born. The Zaraneks were unhappily married, and so they seeked a divorce. Aunt Lida returned to her parents with two little children. I do remember Ira and Zhorzhik on the eve of the outbreak of war.
Ira would often stay with us; every now and then we went for a walk or Ira drove the sleigh carriages. She was an extraordinarily cheerful girl, her laughter was infectious and she knew very well how to hatch funny plans.
Zhorzhik was more serious-minded, silent and very attentive. They lived with grandmother and aunt Marusya in Gornaya street; my parents took me there every once in a while. One day, in the summer (probably in 1940), an unusually sad Irina came to our datcha. She told me: „Tomorrow we will have to go to the train station and wave good-bye to Zhorzhik – he is leaving for the army“. It turned out that they had quarrelled about something and afterwards she refused to accompany him. The following day, while we approached the roadbed, we noticed a cloud of smoke rising from the right side, and then we heard the shrill whistle of a locomotive. A train came near. Ira put the flat of her hands to her cheeks screaming: „Zhorzhik! Zhorzhik!“ I cheered up, as well, and started shouting Zhorzhik’s name. The waggons were all windowless. All of a sudden, on the left side of one of the waggons, a green hatch was opened, someone held out his hand and waved to us. The train rushed off ... Neither I nor Ira ever saw our elder brother again. Zhorzh happened to get to the Ural, to the Chelyabinsk military school (tank training), from where he was later called up directly to the front.
In 1943 he left the front for a short home leave – he went home to see his mother in Saratov. His uniform was decorated by orders and medals. In the spring of 1945, when the troops advanced towards Berlin, he died in his own tank. He had only lived for such a short time, he was still so young – one out of many, many others, who lost their lives under such circumstances. I am not able to say that he „gave“ his life, because, as a rule, there is nothing a human being likes better than its own sense of honour and its life. When the gloomy news about Zhorzhik’s death reached the village of Kamenushka, grandma Margarita Christoforovna once again broke out into tears. She weeped to herself saying prayers for a long time. Her sons in law, my uncles Liova and Yura Lopato, had already died, and now there was a third victim – her first grandson, still so young in years, having not even yet experienced love ... During the war Zhorzhik’s sister Irina worked and learned at the evening school. Earlier she had studied at the school of music.
When she happened to get to the Crimea region after the war, she finished the technical secondary school of law. Her husband, a lawyer, was assigned to a job with the regional department of Public Prosecution in Barnaul. This, obviously, was not far from Novosibirsk, where we, the special resettlers, lived in the settlement Yuzhniy with all our relatives. However, we only met eachother again, when the Chevskiy family left for Moscow via Novosibirsk. In Moscow Ivan Chevskiy was supposed to start working in a new job. On that occasion we also saw Irina again for the first time after our separation in 1941. Everybody was so happy about this reunion, particularly our grandmother. We were still obliged to regularly register with the commandant’s office. And there is another thing I have to mention yet: the pparty member and public prosecutor Ivan Chevskiy showed a lot of personal courage when stopping over at the „German„ barracks on his way to Moscow, where every stranger was immediately kept under the secret surveillance of informers and where „indecent“ conversations were subject to permanent secret listening.
The Chevskiy family continued their life in Moscow. Irina worked both as a music teacher for the kindergarten, and as a lawyer. She was even elected deputy of the district Soviet. She often recalls in great pain that, in those days, due to her youth and immaturity, she did not say good-bye to her brother when he left for the army, and that fate separated them for ever.
„Do not separate from those you love, do not separate from those you love, do not part company, and when you have to say good-bye, always do it in a way as if it were a parting forever, although you might be leaving just for a moment“. Only much later I read these lines of a poem written by Kochetkov.
We do not know, where Zhorzh was laid to rest. Irina was buried two years ago, next to her mother on the Kotliakovsk cemetery, which retained a regrettable fame.
This year I had the opportunity to stay in Moscow for some time, where I bowed down before her mortal remains. As in earlier times, when I had regularly been to Moscow for reasons of business (as from 1964), I was warmly and cordially welcomed there by her son-in-law, Ivan Dmitrievich Chevskiy as well as Irina’s son Alexander Ivanovich Chevskiy, who is the head of the musical department of the Mossoviet Theatre today. I made the acquaintance of Sasha’s little daughter Dasha, who very prevcisely asked me the following question: „You have come over from the country of Siberia?“ I do hope that Sasha is meanwhile living in a country, where Siberia, the exile region of the „enemies of the people“, merely continues to exist in the people’s memories.
I have been keeping two letters, folded like a triangle, which Zhorzh sent me from the front and Irina later handed over to me. I want to pass them on to my children. Do keep them! And I am also in possession of a photography showing Zhorzh. He defended his home country. Honour his memory!
Liudmila Bayandina-Gisinger
„Sibirische Zeitung plus“ (Siberian Newspaper), No. 1 (31) 1/2001 (newspaper published in Novosibirsk)