Hello dear readers! “Farewell to Moscow” is a story about how a little girl went through the hard hungry years of the war in the Baby House.
By the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, I had already been living in the Moscow Infant House for five years. The state assigned me there, after having selected my family. The father, who held a responsible post, was recognized as an enemy of the people, after which he was sent to the Magadan region for logging, then into the mine, and then completely shot.
Mom was left with four children in her arms. As a result, she became seriously ill, was hospitalized for a long time, and the authorities scattered us to different shelters. The baby house, where I ended up, was located in the center of Moscow.
Oddly enough, we were very well treated and not punished even when we deserved it. We were often examined by a doctor who lived with his family right in the building of the Baby House. Before the war, we knew no slaps, no slaps, no swearing – only persuasions, promises, caresses, treatment, attention. They were very well fed.
And suddenly, at some point, they began to put us to sleep in outer clothes, in boots, because the heating was turned off. That was funny and fun! We did not understand that the war had begun …
Once we were taken to the city. We walked first along Pushkin Square, then along Gorky Street – these are the places next to which the Baby House was located. Where are they taking us?
“We are saying goodbye to Moscow,” the teachers said in response to our questions. They didn’t explain why.
– And where is our aunt Lida? – we asked about one of the teachers, who for some reason was not with us this time.
– Her house was bombed by German aircraft at night!
Farewell to Moscow ended, soon we were loaded into a train. The train rushed and slowed down. Through the windows we saw running soldiers, explosions of shells. The words “war”, “fascists”, “aviation” were incomprehensible to us.
Fight for survival
Then we were taken by steamer along the river. Delivered to the remote village of Uralskaya. There wasn’t even a radio. But the war did not interest us: this is for adults! We were more concerned with the issue of nutrition.
No food was supplied from Moscow, and the locals themselves were malnourished. The cattle were taken from the peasants for the needs of the war. We, I remember, were given a hot stew of yellow stinking turnip and a thin slice of bread. I cried and screamed:
– I won’t eat it!
– Well, don’t eat! Well, die! – shouted in response nannies and educators.
And some children did die of exhaustion in their arms …
I remember we were taken for a walk to a clearing near the forest. What a joy it was! We learned the taste of every blade of grass, flower, bug, worm. Some even ate fly agarics and died after being poisoned. Sometimes it was possible to crawl through the cracks in the fences into someone’s garden. Having pulled out the first vegetable we came across from the ground, we immediately gnawed it along with the ground.
From time to time, local residents came with complaints about our robberies. Thin, pale teachers covered us with themselves, cried and shouted:
– Well, grab it! Hit them! They’re hungry!
In the terrible Ural frosts, clothes did not warm us, but they still drove us out for a walk. Many children fell ill. Oh, where are you, our kind Moscow teachers! They returned to the capital, and evacuated women were recruited in their place.
They stole meager food from us for their children and punished severely for everything – they beat us on our naked bodies with boots and put us barefoot in the cold corridors.
For some reason, two teachers loved me very much: Aunt Katya and Yusefa Frantsevna. They were evacuated from Moscow. The women often held me on their knees, hugged me, caressed me and took me to spend the night in the village, where our staff lived in the houses of the locals. There I was sometimes fed with baked potatoes, which were considered a delicacy.
Then everything got really bad in the orphanage. We, orphans, were handed out to local residents in order to save at least someone from starvation …
Among the survivors
In the fall of 1943, we returned to Moscow. We are 25 kids out of 120.
The authorities found my older sister and gave me to her. At school, I fainted from malnutrition. I didn’t even have underwear, I wore a school dress over my naked body. The head was constantly itching from lice, and the body ached from bug bites. Everyone in the class tested positive for TB. I don’t know how I survived …
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