Chapter 15
Petrovsk was hundreds of kilometers from the front line and was out of reach of German aircraft. This, as well as the presence of a railway station from the early days of the war, made the city quite a significant supply base for the front. Ammunition was manufactured here in a factory evacuated from Ukraine; army uniforms were sewn in a garment factory; a cannery produced half-finished food for soldiers’ kitchens; wounded Red Army soldiers and commanders were treated in a large local hospital and gained strength.
Local women and teenagers, whose husbands, brothers, and fathers were serving in the army, made up the majority of factory workers. The home front workers selflessly worked three shifts, not sparing themselves the effort and not just obeying the rigid military order and discipline, but also because the official patriotic call: “Everything for the front, everything for victory!” coincided with their deepest desire to help their men as soon as possible to defeat the enemy and return home. For the sake of this they meekly accepted the fact that food and industrial goods disappeared from free sale in stores, and for bread, salt, cereals, kerosene, and soap, which were now sold according to lists in strictly limited quantities, they had to stand in long lines for hours. The main foods were potatoes and cabbage grown in their own gardens.
In the orphanage, the complications of the war situation had the most noticeable effect on the diet. In August, when Kim arrived in Petrovsk, bread was still on large plates on the dining tables, and everyone got two or three slices; the food was hearty, and those who wanted more were offered more. In September, bread for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was one small and too thin slice at a time, which was forever called a ration. Meat, even at the best of times a rarity, now disappeared from the ration altogether and was replaced by lean fish without taste or name. Saccharine replaced sugar, soups became fattier and fattier, portions of porridge decreased.
The educators explained to the children that bread and other products were sent to the Red Army at the front so that they could successfully fight the Nazis, and that everyone on the home front had to get used to eating less, and anyone could do this if they were patient. Every orphanage boy, of course, was willing to endure to help his native Red Army, and although none of the children managed to stifle the constant feeling of hunger, none openly complained or whined about it.
Hunger was especially strong at the end of the day, before supper when the day’s chores and duties ended, and time, by golly, was going too slow. Fortunately, Kim was saved by his passion for books. Time flew by while he was reading. At the boys’ requests, he would sometimes read aloud to them or tell them what he had read, and so he gradually formed a small regular circle of listeners. Once Kim even had to give his lunch ration of bread for the book “The Headless Horseman” at the library. When someone in the “circle” found out about it, the boys immediately repaid Kim’s sacrifice by giving him pieces of their rations.
The main holiday of the Soviet people began, the 7th of November, the next anniversary of the October Revolution. Among the festive events, the assembly, the amateur concert, and the movie “Chapaev,” the most attractive for the orphans was, of course, the festive dinner. They were offered an enlarged ration of bread, real thick tasty borscht with meat, mashed potatoes with a piece of butter, and a mug of compote. And the cherry on top of this magical feast was that everyone received a gift, a rough paper bag, in which was a packet of cookies, a dozen of caramels, an apple, and a foil-wrapped bar of sherbet (a sweet jelly-like substance similar to marmalade). A cheerful mood prevailed in the canteen for all but the group under the control of the Kultyapy. The reason was that Kultyapy, who proclaimed himself “the boss” of the orphanage, demanded his “share” of every holiday gift from all the residents.
According to the illegally operating rules of the orphanage life, which were established nobody knows by whom and when, “the boss” had the right to do it, and each violator was subject to severe collective punishment. So, no matter how pathetic it was to part with the treat, Kim had to allow Kultyapy to choose something from his packet. But when the rascal with a satisfied grin took out the sherbet, the most valuable of all that was in the bag, while saying, “May you kikes have no more trouble!”, Kim was hurt and bitter. Tears rolled from his eyes. Feeling miserable and lonely, he once again hopelessly tried to find an answer to the question of why people like Kultyapy hate him and all Jews in general, who have never and in no way hindered them. Why? For what?