Chapter 9
It had been a month and a half since Braina had been put in a prison cell. During that time none of those arrested had received news of their husbands and children, and it was the most difficult ordeal for all of them. The women had no more tears left to cry, and all that was expressed in the cells was, “Why are they doing this to us? For what?”
In the second half of December, cellmates began to be summoned one by one to the office of the warden of the prison and their sentences were announced to them, handed down by who knows whom, without trials or investigations. Almost all of them were sentenced to eight years in hard labor camps – and only a few, to five.
Late in the evening of December 31, 1937, as millions of people at festive tables were preparing to celebrate the new year of 1938, several covered trucks, “black crows”, drove out of the gates of the Minsk prison one after another. They headed for the freight railroad station. Several freight cars equipped with double-decker bunk beds and iron stoves – bourgeois stoves – were already standing there. By the light of car headlights, the head of the convoy called out the names on the list and distributed 20 women in each wagon. As soon as the wagon was filled, the door was slid closed and locked from the outside with latches.
Allocation to the bunks took place in the darkness, there was no lighting in the wagon. But there was a glow coming from the stove and a bucket of coal near it, which was very helpful because the December cold was severely piercing. On the ground in the vestibules of the wagon, warmly dressed, armed guards were stationed, and around midnight the train started moving.
The women were despondent: they were not told where they were going, they did not know what awaited them at the end of the journey, and they were worn out by constant worry about the fate of their children and husbands, about whom they had been told nothing. Many were depressed.
Like the survivors of a natural disaster, they had almost resigned themselves to their fate: only with bitterness and sorrow did they recall their families, their work, their home, everything dear to them, but, alas, irretrievably lost in their lives. The future seemed hopeless to them.
Braina tried not to fall into despondency and encouraged others in every possible way, urging them to be patient, to have faith in better times and the hope of seeing their loved ones again. Many women listened eagerly to these soul-saving words.
The train made frequent stops along the way and stood for a long time at stations. At some of these, the empty wagons were filled with new groups of women and teenagers. In the morning and afternoon at the stops, the guards opened the doors and served food: bread, sugar, canned goods, water. The toilet was a hole in the floor of the wagon, which was only to be used during the breaks.
At night, lying on the bunk, Braina could not sleep for a long time, and hearing the knocking of the wagon wheels, she pondered painfully, trying to find any logical explanation for the events that like a tornado swept away everything that had only just recently been the joy, happiness, and meaning of her life.
The former confidence that Joshka’s arrest could be explained by malicious slander or an accidental mistake, was gone. After all, more than six months had passed – and that was more than enough time to check and correct such a serious oversight. Therefore, her arrest could only mean that the charges against Joshka still remained in force. It was horrible to realize that he, an honest, noble, unselfish knight of the revolution, was being accused of treason against the Motherland, to which he was truly sincerely devoted, and had proved it with his whole life. It is hard to think of a more ridiculous, senseless, and hopelessly stupid accusation for Joshka!
And at the same time, Braina was far from thinking that the terrible, inexplicable mass repressions were taking place on the criminal orders of Stalin, the “great leader of the peoples,” whom she and everyone else had grown accustomed to fully believe and worship as an infallible genius.
But no matter how hard, humiliating, hurtful, and terrifying it was to realize that she, an honest teacher, was being taken in a cattle car as a powerless slave to an unknown place for eight endless years, all this became secondary, as she could only imagine the bitter experiences of heartache that her dearly loved Joshka was now feeling under the weight of monstrous lies and grossly fabricated allegations. How should this be understood? How can it be understood? What was this all for? Over and over in Braina’s mind spun the same questions, to which there were no answers. And her thoughts switched to the other pain in her soul – the children.
The train is racing along, the wheels tapping rhythmically on the joints of the rails, and in that tapping, Braina easily picks up a phrase that won’t get out of her head:
Where — are — you — kids — now?
I’m — waiting — for — news — from — you.
After a month of this travel, in early February 1938, the convoy of prisoners arrived in Akmolinsk, a small town within the vast steppes of Kazakhstan.
The weather was cold and windy, the frosty air scorched the face and instantly blew the heat out of the prisoners’ miserable clothes, causing uncontrollable shivers throughout their entire bodies. The women, among whom were even a few nursing mothers with infants, helping each other, climbed into the backs of open trucks, lay down on the straw, hiding from the piercing wind, and headed for their final destination.
It turned out to be a women’s concentration camp under the conventional name “26th settlement, mailbox number 12” (later known under the acronym ALZHIR, Akmola camp of the wives of traitors to the motherland), consisting of more than two dozen residential barracks, several auxiliary and service buildings, a sewing factory which produced clothes for prisoners and for sale to the public, and also hospitals and catering facilities. The entire area was fenced with two rows of barbed wire with watchtowers, evenly spaced around the perimeter. The camp used to hold political prisoners, and only recently became a women’s camp, so it began to be expanded and rebuilt. Among the new facilities was even a nursery-kindergarten.
The new arrivals were met by several energetic, orderly women. They, too, were prisoners who had arrived in this camp from Moscow a few days earlier. Now they were assigned to meet the newcomers and help them get settled in.
Normal human treatment instead of the angry shouts of the guards, came as a pleasant surprise for the women who were exhausted by the long journey. The newcomers were assigned to barracks and fed with lunch. After a long time of dry meals, a hot soup made of fresh cabbage seemed to them like a long-forgotten, almost homemade food.
The head of the barracks, an older woman who had been serving her sentence as a political prisoner for more than a year, introduced the newcomers to the rules of the camp. They were simple and harsh. The basic official principle of camp life was: “Who does not work, does not eat.” According to this principle, the daily portion depends directly on the fulfillment of the norm in the workplace. Those who are lucky enough to get a job in their profession will be able to meet the quota relatively easily and, therefore, ensure themselves a tolerable existence.
Non-professionals however, end up on the general laborer team and will not have an easy time earning their bread. At this time the camp needed construction workers, medical workers, seamstresses, embroiderers, tailors, shoemakers, and agronomists.
This information did not reassure Braina. The only place where she could show her skills and knowledge could be the kindergarten, but it was still under construction. So the likelihood of the inevitable enrollment in the brigade of laborers exacerbated her already bleak mood. In the morning, on the eve of the upcoming placement procedure, a distraught Braina walked from the canteen to the barracks, thinking about other possible options for her employment. A man, who was a freelance employee judging by his clothes, was walking toward her on the path. As he came closer, Braina unexpectedly recognized one of her old acquaintances from Bobruisk. The man recognized Braina and was also stunned with amazement, “You are Gershon’s wife. Could it be that Joshka was imprisoned, too?” Receiving an affirmative answer, he sympathized reservedly, and then inquired about Braina’s situation in the camp and spoke briefly about himself.
It turned out that he had been arrested as an active former Menshevik, had served his five-year term in that camp, and was now free and had even been invited to serve as acting deputy camp commander for supplies. Having learned from Braina that several other former residents of Bobruisk had arrived with her, he promised to find suitable jobs for her countrywomen.
What unexpected luck! Braina rejoiced, she could not believe that this really happened in such a timely manner!
On the same day, a list of the women who had arrived from Belarus was drawn up, and soon they were all employed either in their professions or in jobs that did not require a firm rate of production: workers in the laundry and warehouses, cleaners in the canteen, in the kitchen, in the administrative offices, or in the workshops.
When, according to the list, it was Braina’s turn to go to the commandant’s office for her appointment, her new patron sat her down opposite him, inquired about her health, wished her to keep strong and not to lose hope, and informed her that he had managed to find for her an “obvious” place. Her job would be to distribute the daily ration of bread to the prisoners per the coupons that they received from their work groups. The position is called “bread slicer,” and is part of the food service work team; it requires exceptional honesty, integrity, and incorruptibility. Otherwise, you can’t hold the position, it’s in plain sight of everyone – the inmates as well as the superiors. He himself has not the slightest doubt that Braina fully meets these requirements, so he is doubly pleased with his choice.
Among the prisoners, the job Braina received was valued as one of the most desirable and privileged, yet even there the labor process was very strenuous and tedious.
Bread rations, with an indication of the weight, were given to each prisoner when they showed coupons, strictly into their own hands. The brigadiers had the right to reduce the portions of those who did not meet their work quotas. Those engaged in particularly heavy work were entitled to an increased portion of bread. This variety of portions demanded more attention and more time to prepare the rations. Every day in the morning hundreds of different rations had to be issued quickly, so their basic preparation was done at night, and in the morning there were only some additional adjustments made. All small pieces and even crumbs were used as extras add-ons, because the bakery, when giving out bread, took almost no account of its shrinkage.
There were six women in the group of bread slicers with Braina, headed by the oldest woman. It was a friendly team of honest and conscientious workers, and it was easy for Braina to establish good relations with all of them.
Today, years later, it seems surprising and illogical to many that even in a special concentration camp for “family members of traitors to the Motherland” (“cheseir,” as they were now called as an abbreviation), women forcibly driven behind barbed wire who were forced to abandon their former professions and become carpenters, painters, seamstresses, shoemakers, cleaners, or laborers continued to show in their work the best qualities of free people, conscientiousness, and mutual assistance. In fact, the explanation for this phenomenon is simple. Almost all of them were indeed among the best, the ablest and hardworking, so even under forced conditions they worked creatively, sparing no effort, trying to perform any work as best as possible, in the firm belief that thus, even in a concentration camp, they provide benefit to their country. In addition, in the depths of the souls of many lived the hope that their selfless work would serve as additional proof of their loyalty and devotion to the country, the Party, and Stalin.
Thusly more than a year and a half of camp life passed. A fellow countryman from Bobruisk, who had provided protection to Braina and other countrywomen, resigned and left. And she continued her work as a “bread slicer”: she learned to quickly understand the coupons, to meticulously weigh each ration, to tactfully treat everyone, even the notoriously rudest ones. Therefore, the prisoners and superiors treated Braina with kindness and trust, and this somewhat brightened the humiliating conditions of camp life.
However, morale remained heavy. The ban on correspondence with relatives continued. This savage torture continuously, day after day, month after month, subjected mothers and wives to unbearable mental suffering, painfully longing for their children and husbands, about whose fates they were told nothing without any explanation.
Luckily, there was one compassionate and fair person among the cruel, heartless, and harsh camp commanders: Deputy Camp Chief Mishin, whom the inmates amongst themselves nicknamed Valeryan
Valeryanovich, in an analogy to a sedative medicine. If there was even a little free time, the camp women stood in long lines to ease the soul with a frank conversation with the deputy political officer, to hear from him words of hope. Until that time Braina had gotten along without such consolations, but the moment came when she too had to turn to Mishin in the hope of finding protection from slander.
The normal working atmosphere in the group of bread slicers was maintained until, under someone’s protection, a comely, rude, and unceremonious Estonian woman named Elsa appeared. Not even a month later, she had flattered with offerings the head of the Marapulis group, also a former resident of the Baltic states. Their offensive innuendos, dirty gossip, antisemitic remarks and anecdotes soon caused a rift and alienation among the other workers. In addition to this unhealthy atmosphere, cases of ration shortages and general shortages of bread were suddenly discovered. It was suspected that someone from the bread cutters was hiding bread coupons and handing them over to their friends. Elsa, without thinking twice, blamed it on Braina, basing her confidence on the fact that she had many friends, and that it was well known that the Jewish religion obliges one to help co-religionists.
At first, Marapulis doubted that Braina was capable of such a thing, but Elsa insisted, and then they decided to do a surprise check. On one occasion after the night shift, when unsuspecting Braina was sleeping soundly in the barracks, Marapulis and Elsa searched her bread sack hanging on a nail at the head of the bed. But, of course, there was nothing there except a piece of bread and Braina’s own coupon.
Upon awakening and learning of the secret inspection, Braina realized that it was she who was suspected of stealing the bread. Outraged to the core by this brazen accusation, she rushed to find Marapulis and soon found her in the company of Elsa. Braina demanded an explanation, and Elsa, unwilling to admit her lie, looking away somewhere off to the side, mumbled that she herself had seen Braina sneaking a coupon to one of her friends.
From no one, not even from the malicious Elsa, did Braina expect such an accusation, her breath caught instantly, her legs buckled. Barely able to control herself, she returned to her work, but she still choked on tears of resentment and despair. In the camp, among the slandered people, she was once more a victim of libel! This was unbearably painful to realize. In addition, she felt that if she could not defend herself this time, her children in the orphanage would also suffer from slanderers.
It was necessary to expose Elsa. But how? Suddenly she had the idea of telling Mishin everything. With the strongest excitement, still flooding with tears, she hurried to the commandant’s office. As usual, there was a line of camp girls in front of the deputy political officer’s door, but Braina bypassed them without any explanation and burst into the office. Looking at Braina, Mishin immediately realized that at this moment she needed him more than anyone else. After handing Braina a glass of water and sitting her across from him, he asked her to take her time and give a detailed account of what had happened.
She burst into tears again, and bitter words sprang forth about the many experiences and grievances, undeserved, unjust, and intolerable. It was only at the very end of her spontaneous confession that she spoke of the slanderous accusation of stealing bread.
Mishin listened attentively to Braina’s confused speech without interrupting and stated that he would begin the proceedings at once. He ordered the other visitors to be rescheduled for another day and immediately summoned Marapulis and Elsa to his office.
Braina was sitting in the corridor when Elsa appeared in the commandant’s office. When she saw Braina, she turned pale and asked, “How should I behave, what should I say?” “That is your business, but you had better tell the truth,” Braina replied.
Then in his office, Mishin seated Elsa and Braina face to face, Marapulis waited off to the side. The deputy ordered Elsa to tell what she was accusing Braina of, with the exact facts and the names of all the people involved in this matter. Hearing such a harsh demand, Elsa became confused, mumbling uncertainly about her suspicions and conclusions. Mishin interrupted her abruptly, “To whom exactly did Gershon give the bread voucher? Tell me the name!” Lowering her eyes and stammering, Elsa answered hoarsely: “I can’t give you her last name, but it’s not for nothing that all her Jewish friends hang around her.” “And what do you say to that, Gershon?” Mishin turned to Braina. “I can only say that these accusations are filthy lies and slander!”, Braina replied, barely holding back her sobs.
Mishin was silent for a few minutes, then, turning to Elsa, said firmly, “You slandered Gershon only because she is Jewish! I am removing you from your job as a bread slicer, and Gershon will continue to work there. You, Marapulis, will hold a meeting in the canteen tomorrow and announce my decision to everyone.” After that, the deputy general called the doctor on duty and ordered him to check Braina’s state of health and give her all necessary assistance.
Later, the whole incident was discussed in detail in the barracks, and it improved the mood of many women because they greatly wanted to believe that if there were people like Mishin even in the camp leadership, then justice, no matter what, would prevail in the whole world and in their own fates.
As best they could, the women tried to brighten up their monotonous, drab camp lives. They organized an amateur art activity, but the rare concerts in the club did little to entertain and distract them, but more so intensified their longing for all that they had been separated from. And correspondence with those who remained on the outside was still prohibited.
Meanwhile, the political situation in the country had gradually begun to soften. The illiterate, short-sighted, and cruel Commissar of Internal Affairs, Yezhov, an unconditional and zealous executor of Stalin’s planned mass repressions, was replaced at the end of 1938 by the no less cruel and cynical, but more experienced and cunning political schemer Lavrenty Beria, who was also a confidant of Stalin.
The official press even reported about information that the former leader of the National Commissariat of Internal Affairs allowed illegal arrests, separate cases of abuses of power, and the use of unlawful methods of interrogation. In March 1939, at the next party congress, Stalin spoke directly about the serious mistakes of the National Commissariat of Internal Affairs: they say that a large number of innocent citizens in the country were illegally repressed, about which the Political Bureau and he personally, allegedly, became aware only recently, and now urgent measures are being taken to correct the discovered violations.
In fact, the Chekists simply carried out Stalin’s plan to smash the old Leninist guards by physically eliminating the former active party figures who were replaced by others, young party members who were selflessly loyal to the new leader. And this meant that it was time to “hide the ends in the water”, i.e. to deal with those who had carried out the previous mass repressions.
This is what the new People’s Commissar Lavrentiy Beria18 did, as a start suddenly freeing hundreds of thousands of miraculously surviving prisoners from concentration camps at the same time. The state press, fully subordinate to the authorities, enthusiastically welcomed the “wise instructions of the great leader”. Henceforth, Soviet people everywhere greeted and welcomed him with prolonged standing ovations and cheers. The authority of the country’s leader finally degenerated into a personal cult of Stalin. However, no indulgences were intended for family members of “enemies of the people”, and in the camp, where Braina was held, there was still a strict ban on correspondence with relatives and friends. Two years behind barbed wire in total unawareness of the fates of her family and children severely damaged the psyche of the emotional and impressionable Braina. At times she was seized by a feeling of unreality about everything that was happening, a deep apathy was heaped upon her. The only thing that saved her were her faithful friends in misfortune, who gave Braina “emergency psychological aid” sometimes with persuasion, sometimes with jokes, and sometimes with strong foul language or even with a sensitive slap in the face.
18 On November 25, 1938, Beria was appointed the People’s Commissar of Internal Affairs of the USSR. With his arrival at the head of the National Commissariat of Internal Affairs, the scale of repression decreased. From 1939-1940 about 150 — 200 thousand people who were not convicted in 1937-1938 were released, also there was a release of a portion of those who had been convicted and sent to the camps.