Soviet Mass Deportations – June & July 1940

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The next, third mass deportation took place at the turn of June and July 1940. It started in the early morning of June 29. Due to difficulties in detaining people designated for deportation and transport problems, the operation extended to almost a week. It covered (in accordance with previous arrangements) primarily refugees from central Poland rejected by the German resettlement commission.
In this case, most of the deportees were of Jewish, Belarusian and Ukrainian nationality. According to NKVD sources, Jews constituted over 80% of the total deported contingent. According to NKVD data for the second quarter of 1941, among the 76,113 exiles there were 84.56% Jews, 10.95% Poles, 2.26% Ukrainians, 0.24% Belarusians and 0.16% Germans. The final number of exiles, who in Soviet documents are referred to as spiecpieriesielency-bieżency, and who are also referred to as “the contingent of people who were to go to Germany but were not accepted by the German authorities”, amounted to 80,653 people. 22,879 were deported from “Western Belarus”, 57,774 from “Western Ukraine”. Data from the NKVD Convoy Troops indicate that 76,246 people were transported on 57 trains (52,617 from “Western Ukraine” and 23,629 from “Western Belarus”). The Soviet authorities did not manage to implement their plans until the end. Initially, it was intended to resettle as many as 102,683 people (83,207 family members and 19,476 single people) in “Western Ukraine”, and at least 23,057 people in “Western Belarus”.

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Written Accounts

Helena Kliś-Niemira, deported from Rusnów in the province Volhynian:

Our journey was much better than those who were deported in February, because it was warm and we did not freeze on the way. None of the elders were allowed to look out the window of the freight wagon, only we, the children, sat in the windows without glass, there were two of them, closed with a wooden flap. We looked through these windows and told the adults what we saw. I remember driving through long tunnels in the Urals. The smoke from the locomotive was eating our eyes, there were probably four of them. They opened the wagons only far beyond Moscow. I also remember how at some small station, children and elderly people, emaciated, ragged, with bast-covered hands, approached the wagons asking for a piece of bread, and the guards drove them away, shouting: “You can’t run away!” Our skin crawled at the sight of these people.

We were driving through the fields once. A shepherd was grazing a herd of cows, we had some bread, we saw him standing barefoot and ragged looking at us, we threw him a piece of bread, he jumped at it as if he hadn’t seen it for a few months and immediately took it to his mouth and started eating it very much. greedily. This image has always stood before my eyes. A cold chill ran through us because we knew this would happen to us too.

They took us to Novosibirsk, where they took us to the baths. They ordered us to take a bath, took our clothes to steam them, and then drove everyone back to the wagons. They took us to Assina [near Tomsk], where they landed us on the bank of some large river [Czuly]. They gave us neither food nor drink and told us that there were fish in the river and plenty of water. […] After a few days, a ship arrived.

Russian FSRS, July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 2, Warsaw 1990

Barbara Hebrowska, deported from Lviv:

On June 28, 1940, in the morning I gave the children breakfast as usual and went to church. I didn’t notice anything special. However, when I reached the halfway point of Krasińskiego Street, I suddenly saw a peasant cart loaded with suitcases, women with children and a few men on it, all crying, and NKVD guards next to them. It was as if lightning had struck me. I heard about Poles being deported deep into the USSR. Since the first deportations, I had things packed, clothes ready next to the children’s beds, food for a few days, and some money. I understood that Krasińskiego Street was half cleared of “bieżeniec” [refugees from the German occupation zone], i.e. Poles who did not have permanent residence. The deportations took place at night, so she still had some time. I ran to the church of St. Nicholas almost semi-conscious. I fell in when the priest was giving Holy Communion. I went to the railings, it seemed to me that I was taking viaticum – I started crying terribly and felt weak. I went to the sacristy and asked for water. An old man-priest approached me and asked what happened. I told him, he blessed me and calmed me down. Resigned but calm, I returned home, entrusting my children and myself to God’s care. […]

I waited, thinking and praying. Finally, after midnight, a truck with a few soldiers stopped in front of our villa. A sharp bell rings for the janitor, and he’ll call us in a moment. I opened it – a soldier came in, demanded papers, checked his notes. When he entered the room and found the children sleeping, he said to me: “Let them sleep, I will go upstairs first.” He was always quite kind towards us. However, I woke them up immediately because my sister-in-law was warming up the coffee. We had a warm drink and ate something. The soldier helped me carry out my things. When I was sitting on the truck bed, my sister-in-law Jadzia brought out two mattresses, and when I was wondering whether to take them, the soldier said: “Take it, everything will be useful there.”

Lviv, June 28-29, 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 8, Warsaw 1994

Piotr Michalewicz, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

What shall we do? Should I sit here and wait for who knows what, or wander to the Bug River? You can’t stay here because there’s nothing to eat, and suddenly there’s a new rumor that, yes, repatriation will continue, but through a repatriation camp that is being built for refugees just beyond the former border with the USSR. We hear that the authorities decided this in order to organize the procedure, taking into account the difficult situation of refugees and the permanent population of the town. In the camp, refugees will receive food and will be systematically sent back home – across the Bug River.

The above information was neither provided by an official nor formally announced. It just spread among people. People tired of the constant ambiguity of the situation, uncertainty, hunger and, finally, concerned about the liquidation of the commission, were relieved to hear about the repatriation camp.

Before we recovered from our stupor, having learned that all roads, exits and exits from Vladimir had been closed by the army and militia, someone had already distributed the news that there was nothing to worry about, because the authorities only wanted to stop the further influx of refugees [from German occupation zone] to the town. We had no choice but to believe every rumor that reassured us.

It must be said that the process of psychological incapacitation using false-bad or false-good information, rumors, etc. – including filling out personal questionnaires for the NKVD by ourselves (also at the instigation of gossip and on forms distributed by the NKVD) – was carried out masterfully. We were so absorbed in the disinformation fed to us that no one noticed that, during the commission’s actions, the spare tracks at the station gradually began to fill with a large number of empty sets of freight trains, and the empty military barracks with NKVD and militia units. Meanwhile, young and single men were still arrested in night roundups, carried out as secretly and quietly as possible. It was a well-thought-out precaution – removing people who were active, unrestrained by anything, more prone to escape or resistance.

The invasion of the town by NKVD and militia units took place around two o’clock at night – on one of the last days of June 1940. Refugees not only camping outdoors but also from private apartments were taken away. People were driven out into the streets, in groups of a dozen or so, under a convoy of two soldiers for each group, and rushed to the reserve tracks; there they were loaded into wagons and, after filling, the wagon doors were closed from the outside. The operation lasted until approximately 7 a.m. When it was already light, the boys, sitting up to the barred windows of the carriage, informed that on all sides of the town, along the streets, paths, and across the gardens, there were militiamen and soldiers armed with rifles and plainclothes types (auxiliary militia recruited from among the local Ruthenian [Ukrainian] youth). , Jewish and Polish) – armed with guns – drove men, women, children and the elderly. Some people walked empty-handed, others carried their luggage with difficulty. Everything happened calmly, without any disturbances. Nobody rushed anyone. People walked alone.

Once started, the machine works blindly and mercilessly: random passers-by, local residents who had nothing to do with the commission, were also rounded up from the streets. A man with the appearance of a worker struggles and shouts: “Let me go, I’m here! My wife and children!” Niczewo – the machine replies – you’ll tell me on the spot that it’s local – and they drag him to the wagon. The poor people did not yet know the Russian mentality – the stupid Asian cruelty.

Włodzimierz Wołyński, June 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 5, Warsaw 1991

Piotr Michalewicz, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

There was silence in the carriage. We reflected on the ordeal of last night. None of the refugees put up any resistance. We walked humbly under bayonets to the train that would take us to the “repatriation camp just across the border.” We were surprised that it was at night and that there were so many militia and army people there. But we reassured ourselves – if they said they would take us to a repatriation camp, we had to believe them.

There were no more than 35 people in the carriage. We could sit on the floor. We were interested in a small rectangular hole cut in the middle of the floor. The children realized faster: “Mom, this is for peeing!” Our potty stayed in Warsaw. The conversations weren’t going well. What is there to talk about? We’re going! In a few or a dozen or so hours everything will become clear. But a doubt crept into the void of thought: the authorities said they would take him to a repatriation camp. But what power? Where and to whom did the authorities say this? Who do we know this from? Everyone said: after all, we filled out surveys. Yes, the poll held everyone together and meanwhile the military took positions. There was no written announcement, no information from any official person. So what? Hoax? Fraud? Can the authorities be accused of lying, perversity and deceit? The authorities guide us, that is, they take care of us. We were terribly tired.

Between Włodzimierz Wołyński and the Polish border station of Sarny [in the border district with the former Polish-Soviet border], the train had only a few short stops, during which the doors of the carriages were not opened. In Sarny, our train was moved to spare tracks and the wagons were opened. Right opposite ours was a long freight train on a widened track. Several Soviet railway workers announced along our train that we should quickly change to the carriages standing opposite. Neither the militia nor the NKVD were visible (it turned out that they were hidden in the convoy wagon). What to do? Let’s change trains if we have to.

People reluctantly, slowly, as if reluctantly, looking at each other, loaded onto the Russian train. I guess everything’s fine – everyone thought – the camp is supposed to be just across the border, and yet the railway tracks here are wide.

My wife and I looked inside the carriage – a hole cut in the floor, and bunks. Yes, there are bunks on both sides of the carriage. What for? Long journey or what? What to do? What does all this mean? We were about to follow the others into the wagon when a man’s terrifying scream was heard a few wagons away. Four NKVD members, including one an officer, knocked the struggling old man to the ground, then lifted him up and threw him into a Russian wagon. The man shouted with all his might: People, don’t get into these wagons! You won’t come back! I’ve been there before! I’ve been there before! Run!”

Włodzimierz Wołyński, Sarny; Ukrainian SRS, June-July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 5, Warsaw 1991

Piotr Michalewicz, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

We did not know yet that we were in the hands of the authorities who, thanks to an agreement with Hitler, treated us as the property of the Soviet Union. At some stops, wagons were opened to give bread and water and then closed again. Only deep in Russia did they stop locking the doors from the outside. For longer stops, the train was moved to tracks distant from the station buildings. There were no contacts with the local population. During almost three weeks of transport, not a single Russian approached the train, which surprised us greatly.

We were escorted by a platoon of NKVD soldiers. The escort wagon was located approximately in the middle of the set. As we moved deeper into Russia, bread was distributed less and less often. We didn’t feel too hungry – we lay motionless on the boards. It was worse with children. At one of the stops, mothers gathered next to the guards’ wagon and demanded bread for their children. The officer explained that it was not up to him and dispersed the women with his fists.

When a person is incapacitated and does not know what will happen to him next, his thinking function gradually begins to weaken. Someone in our wagon says to a crying woman: “They don’t give us bread because they are obviously having difficulties – the war is going on.” After a while, the same man jumps up from the bunk, shouting: “What am I talking about? There’s no war here – why aren’t they fed? “Hitler, you see, they are feeding him!” – says the woman consciously and continues to sob.

Ukrainian SRS, Russian FSRS, June-July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 5, Warsaw 1991

Piotr Michalewicz, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

Adults tried to use the hole in the floor of the carriage at night, if possible. Those who had to use it during the day under the cover of a blanket or a rag held by another person. Some suffered from some kind of nervous inhibition – they could not use the hole in the presence of others. Hunger obstruction oppressed people. A few people developed intestinal disease. They screamed so long and so terribly that the others couldn’t stand it and started screaming too. They were finally taken away.

[…] In almost three weeks, no one from the Soviet service or Polish doctors-prisoners appeared in front of our wagon to ask if there were any sick people. And many children were dragged on the train, there were also pregnant women, and there were sick people. We reported seriously ill patients to the convoy commander – they were taken away, but their families were not allowed to accompany them. Then people stopped reporting seriously ill people.

Ukrainian SRS, Russian FSRS, June-July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 5, Warsaw 1991

Piotr Michalewicz, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

Initially, there were 30 people in our wagon. Railway workers from Poznań with their families, miners and officials from Silesia – with their families, people from Krakow and Warsaw – officials, workers, soldiers, and two Jewish families. Silesians, Poznań residents and Jews consciously left their homes for fear of persecution or revenge from the Nazis. The rest were people evacuated from the capital or otherwise pushed to the south-east of the country by war.

Ukrainian SRS, Russian FSRS, June-July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 5, Warsaw 1991

Piotr Michalewicz, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

The further we went into Russia, the less bread we were given. It seemed that the organization was limping. Perhaps she was limping – too many human trains were rushing in the same direction. When, after leaving the camp and gradually regaining my memory, I began to think about these matters, I became convinced that few things happened due to chance or organizational deficiencies. Most of the situations and moves we witnessed looked well-thought-out and deliberate. You cannot effectively manipulate individuals or masses if you do not use well-thought-out and proven methods of conduct. The Soviet government and its agencies for moving human cargo have proven methods of mentally and physically incapacitating people at the time and to the extent necessary for the success of the intended operation.

After crossing the Urals, we received a small cube of bread once every two days. This was supposed to stimulate our desire to finally reach our destination, no matter where, it would be better and more normal there. In this way, we were prepared to accept with abandon what we would find at our destination.

This is how a dozen or so freight trains loaded with starving people headed east from Vladimir alone. The Urals are behind us. The guards opened the locks of the wagons. There are no illusions anymore – we are in Siberia. We read the names of larger stations: Chelyabinsk, Kurgan, Petropavlovsk, Omsk, Novosibirsk. Train stops are longer at some stations. Traffic has probably thickened on the Siberian main road. Trains with people kidnapped from Poland converge here with other trains carrying “goods” from various corners of the Soviet empire.

Russian FSRS, Kazakh SRS, July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 5, Warsaw 1991

Piotr Michalewicz, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

The conversations in our carriage had long since died down; now they have stopped completely. What were we thinking? About nothing. My thinking was frozen with anticipation of what would happen next. With difficulty and reluctance, fragments of self-regrets slipped through our minds: Why didn’t we resist in Sarny? Why, when we were already deep in Russia, didn’t we all get off the train in some place and demand to be taken back? They wouldn’t shoot at us, they would just use some trick.

The third week of riding begins. We passed Novosibirsk without stopping. Tomsk – stopover. It’s morning. After an hour, the carriage doors were locked from the outside again. The train is moving. It passes the station tracks, but it does not pick up speed, it moves slowly. We lie on the bunks. Depression creeps across the bearded faces of men and the sunken cheeks of women and children. On the opposite side of the bunk, a girl pressed her face against the window grate. Mom! What’s that? What’s that? The mother reluctantly pulls herself up to the window: God! What is this? Everyone is pushing towards the window cracks. I crawled to the other side of the bunk. I look. After a while, I realize that our train has left the higher-lying Tomsk behind and is slowly rolling from the highlands onto a lonely railway branch with a steep slope. All around, the entire area was covered with a motionless, gloomy shroud of dense dark green mass, blackening more and more towards the distant horizon. Here and there this mass rose with small bulges, and here and there it sank. Other than that, nothing. Only this dark green mass fascinates with its terrifying enormity. There was a sob somewhere in the corner, not a single word was spoken. People silently moved one another away from the window slit and looked.

Tomsk Oblast, Russian FSRS, July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 5, Warsaw 1991

Irena Szablińska-Żurawska, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

One day there was a riot in the wagon. Our starosta rebelled, declaring that he was resigning because he was unable to cope with all the duties that we had kindly entrusted him with. And it must be admitted that our “commander” had to show considerable heroism to control every situation. First, he had to be a good organizer. Someone will think – what kind of organization, what? And yet he had to establish the duties of the so-called meal carriers (there were many volunteers) and the cleaners of our unfortunate toilet (there were fewer people willing to do so). And that was quite a problem. In addition, he had to be patient, understanding and physically strong. Unfortunately, he lacked this last advantage. So he stayed, but got a midfielder with a fairly good athletic build. This midfielder had to tactfully and properly use the advantages of his body. So he carried the sick, children and even the dead (there were two such cases here), and he also had to separate those in conflict. He performed his duties well.

Russian FSRS, July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 1992

Irena Szablińska-Żurawska, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

The Ural Mountains were getting closer – the mysterious, dangerous humps of the mountains, shimmering with pink and purple, were frightening. Anyone who could, rushed to the window and to the gaps between the boards of the carriage. Everyone was curious about this different world. We finally made it through these mountains. I had the impression that we had passed through a prison gate. I looked at the receding mountains – both terrible and beautiful – and thought: “God! Will we be judged to return through this hellish Ural gate?”

Russian FSRS, July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 1992

Irena Szablińska-Żurawska, deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

Finally we stop at a siding at a station [Asino]. They said there were no tracks any further. Screams: “Get off with your luggage!” We climb out of the wagons with our belongings. We stand unsteadily on our feet. We inhale the fresh air with pleasure. We look around and see the dark water of the [Czuły] river in front of us.

After checking some census records, they let us set up camp. We light fires along the river bank, boil water, pour biscuits and eat them. We scrub our dishes with sand for a long time, which are terribly dirty due to this journey. We wash, but only at the shore – the water is wonderful, refreshing, what a relief. We would love to dive in, but somehow we are afraid of this strange river. We lie down on our beds, but we cannot sleep. Soldiers are circulating around. Apparently it’s already night. We’re surprised, it wasn’t dark after all. Someone says that Siberian nights are white.

The sun is rising. Steamboats and barges pulled by cutters approach. They’re loading us. My father and I were put on a steamship into the hold. We are packed like herrings in a barrel. We’re sailing away. We children sneak out onto the deck. We watch the river. It is wide, even very wide in places, somewhat dark and alien, with amazing cliffs at the edges. We preferred not to look at her. She terrified us. We were more interested in life on the ship. There were passenger cabins. Russians ate dishes that we had not seen for a long time. We looked at them hungrily. They looked at us like we were some overseas creatures. They asked where we came from? Why are we dirty? Usually, we didn’t have time to answer because the guards chased us away, telling us that we were “children of mean bourgeoisie” and that they should not associate with us.

Tomsk Oblast, Russian FSRS, July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 1992

Irena Szymkowiak, deported from Schodnica in the province. Lviv:

We have been deceived in a perfidious way. It was announced that anyone who wants to go west to Poland [to the German occupation zone] must report to the municipal office and register there, because the border to the west will be opened three times and those willing will go there. We waited a long time and wondered whether to register or not. We decided to go to Żydowo. It didn’t take long after registration, maybe four days. At that time, we lived in a palace belonging to the Polish director who worked in an oil mine. The door opened and an NKVD entered the apartment with a Pole who was still temporarily working at the commune office. We heard the following sentence from the mouth of an NKVD: “Ms. Szymkowiak, we came to your place to look for weapons.” And our mother replied, “I, a woman with children so young, am I supposed to own a gun?” He laughed and said: “Pack your bags and go to your husband.” And outside the window you could already hear the snorting of horses and the clatter of carts. We were given little time, about 30 minutes.

We were loaded into carts and drove to an unknown direction. After a few hours of driving, we arrived at the station. There we met all the Poles who had registered with us for the trip to Poland and those who had been caught in street roundups. Such roundups were organized day and night. The train headed east. Everyone now understood what they had registered us for. But it was too late. The train ran all day and night. People in the wagons went crazy with despair, they realized how perfidious they had been deceived.

Skhidnytsia, June 29, 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 1992

Kazimierz Kaniewski, deported from Schodnica in the province. Lviv:

At night, my mother, sister and me were woken up by a loud knock on the door. When I asked who was there, the owner of the house spoke up and opened the door for him. When my mother opened the door, the owner and two soldiers with rifles and so-called caps on their heads came in. budionówka. They searched for weapons and found nothing but their father’s razor. They told us to get dressed and go with them, and when our mother asked where we were going, they told us that we were going to “Germany”, i.e. to Germany. My mother wanted to pack something, but they wouldn’t let me. Under the convoy of these soldiers, we were taken to some cargo transport. All the wagons were filled with Poles, mainly Jews. The wagons were designed to transport people, they were double-decker to accommodate as many people as possible, so we had to lie down and, to stretch our bones, we went to the middle of the wagon, i.e. to the aisle, where the doors opened. These doors were locked from the outside during the journey and were opened by guards only at stations during longer stops, when we were sometimes given some soup or dry food, i.e. some groats or stale flour. During longer stops, we cooked in pots placed on bricks, stones, wherever we could. We often cooked the same food at two or three stations because it was undercooked, which is why we suffered from stomach pain and more.

Skhidnitsa, Ukrainian SRS, June-July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 1992

Irena Gołębiowska-Jabłońska, deported from Podbuże in the province. Lviv:

In May, the passporting of all Russians under the rule was announced, except for those who were on the list of people willing to return to their homes west of the San. These people were called “biebiecki” – fugitives. We signed up for this list, believing that we would meet our father sooner. It happened differently.

On the night of June 28-29, 1940, one policeman, one NKVD officer and one Ukrainian broke into our house. All with weapons in their hands. They conducted a thorough search, told me and my brother to wake up, and then told us to pack. As requested, we are going home – to Sanok. The entire “delegation” was quite polite and even suggested what else we should take with us.

There were two carts parked in front of the house. We sensed that something bad was happening. At 4.30, me, my mother and my brother, biding farewell to the family’s tears, accompanied by a policeman, left towards Drohobycz. We learned that we had a long journey ahead of us, but not to the west, but to the east. In Drohobycz, we were thrown into a cattle wagon with our luggage and the doors were closed. Darkness enveloped us, even though it was a beautiful, hot day. We were alone. But after a while, the carriage was filled with “lucky” people like us.

Podbuże, June 29, 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 1992

Irena Gołębiowska-Jabłońska, deported from Podbuże in the province. Lviv:

Hot nights and hot days. We ate what everyone had. Soon, regardless of differences in age or views, we became one poor family. I was no longer even surprised by the loud, groaning prayers of the Jews.

In Lviv, two people were let out at the station and after a while they brought a bucket of hot water and a bag of fresh bread. Regardless of the late hour, everyone started eating. A few more wagons filled with “poor people” were attached.

Next stop in Tarnopol. The weather was beautiful, cloudless. And again, as before, two people from each wagon went out to get cold water from the railway pump and boiled water from the locomotive. I was among these people. While I was filling the bucket and jug with water, a young man who was working on unloading the wagons approached me and said, “Ma’am, please stay here. I’ll take care of you. “This transport is going to Siberia, and you are so young.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t agree, I had to be with my mother and brother. The young man helped me carry water to the carriage and left with the words: “Please think about it, there are still a few minutes before the train leaves.”

In Kiev, the guards brought pearl barley with olive oil, bread and boiled water to the wagon. The same at the Kharkov, Voronezh, Tambov stations. One day similar to another. In the morning, relieving yourself in front of everyone, then washing yourself if there was water in the wagon, and having a modest breakfast. And then remembering home and loved ones and humming Polish songs. It was necessary to shorten this monotonous time somehow.

Ukrainian SRS, June 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 199

Irena Gołębiowska-Jabłońska, deported from Podbuże in the province. Lviv:

[City] Penza. Convoys of various nationalities – Ukrainians, Tatars, Buryats, Mongols – open the heavy door and shout “Faster, faster!” they drive everyone out of the wagons and take them to the baths. In the large hall, all women and children must undress and take their clothes to the delousing room. Clothes were hung on metal rings and handed over to the bathhouse staff through the window. The guards were sitting on the window and laughing at the naked people. There were young, old and very old women with sagging bodies. After bathing, the washed clothes were given away. And again, amidst the roars of the guards: “Come on, bystrej” – we returned to the wagons.

Mrs. Maria Ulewicz’s sister is feeling worse and worse. It’s hard for her to breathe and she’s sweating a lot. When we arrived in Kuibyshev [now Samara], all the wagon doors were opened, but the guards did not let us out of their sight. I sat down on the edge of the carriage and a Russian officer walked by. He became interested in the conditions in the wagon. I pointed to the sick woman. He called the guard and told him not to lock the wagon. He said to me: ” Dewochka , you will drive with the door open, but you respond with your head if someone runs away.” Everyone sighed and looked at me as a savior.

On July 14, 1940, we passed through the Urals. The train slowly climbs up and slowly rolls down. The mountains are bathed in beautiful shades of red at sunrise.

Ufa station. Cool, fresh air comes in through the open door. The train stopped in the open. We washed ourselves in icy water next to the wagons. After a while they roar again to get into the wagons, and whoever cannot jump in is thrown in like a dead thing.

We slowly drive through uninhabited areas. We stop at larger stations to get bread and water. We pass through Chelyabinsk, Omsk, Novosibirsk. We stay longer in Krasnoyarsk. The guards herd everyone from the wagons to a large square in front of the bathhouse. Here’s an overview of the heads. When lice were noticed, the head was shaved bald. “Our” carriage was exceptionally clean and no insects were found on anyone. After the inspection, the bathhouse and again – as before – a “parade” of nudes in front of the laughing guards. For the journey we get bread, hot water, and pearl barley with olive oil. Ponderous wagons in the great heat move east – to Irkutsk. They’re unloading us here. You have to carry things on your back several hundred meters above the Angara to load onto the barges provided. We have a place below deck, squeezed one next to the other. There are three toilets on board for several hundred people. Drinking water is drawn from the river. People start getting bloody diarrhoea. There are no medications. Two Jews commit suicide by cutting their veins with a razor. They throw the bodies into the river. There is general dejection.

We sail along the Angara to Bratsk. Here we board the trucks that are taking us to Ust’-Kut, east of Bratsk nad Lena. We spend the night outdoors. In the morning they give us painful injections under the shoulder blade against typhoid fever. After a one-day stop, we get back on the barges and sail along the Lena to Zajarsk. I became seriously ill with diarrhoea. It was horrible, but after a few days I felt better. We reached the town of Bodajbo on the Witim River, the right tributary of the Lena. It was August 13, 1940

Russian FSRS, Irkutsk Oblast, July 1940

Source: Memories of Siberians vol. 6, Warsaw 1992

An anonymous man deported from Włodzimierz Wołyński:

To this day I don’t know how my father found out that we were on the deportation list in the next transport. He did not want to go to Russia and tried his best to avoid deportation. He learned that there was a mixed Soviet-German commission in Volodymyr-Volynsky and with its help he could get under German occupation as a refugee from central Poland. There was no time to think. We packed the most valuable and necessary things and, loaded with bundles, we set off as a family to Włodzimierz Wołyński. I didn’t expect then that a nomadic life like a gypsy’s would begin and that it would last for several years.

From the beginning of June, the commission did not accept anyone, and soon the fugitives were informed that the commission had ended its activities. Before the fugitives could decide what to do next and where to go, all residents of the city were announced to immediately report to the NKVD who the fugitives were from. At the same time, there was a threat that if someone did not register and they found runaways, they would be deported. In the face of such a strong argument, no one wanted to put themselves or their families at risk. The host with whom we lived told my father that he would not report us to the NKVD, but we had to leave his property immediately. There was no choice. We couldn’t endanger the owner and his family with our presence, and we had nowhere to go. The temporary hiding place was the bushes on the outskirts of the city, behind the square behind which stood the framework of a newly built villa. Few people visited this retreat, and the thick bushes provided a perfect hiding place. All four of them hid in them a dozen or so meters from their edge […]. During the day, my father carried out a reconnaissance and in the evening it was decided that the next morning we would go to the countryside, because it is dangerous to walk at night. That night was tragic for us. In the evening, the sky was covered with dark clouds and soon it started to rain. A strong storm with lightning and heavy rain lasted until midnight. We were all soaked, as well as the ground beneath us. It was already well after midnight when the father decided to go to the nearest farmer to bring a sheaf of dry straw for a bed. It was a dark night all around and after such a storm he didn’t expect to meet anyone at such a late hour. He calmly reached the framework of the villa under construction and when he passed it, he heard a loud “Stop! Hands up!”. Obediently, he raised his hands and looked back. Two NKVD men approached him from behind with reprimands in their hands. He immediately realized that he was caught and he couldn’t get away from them. He did not want to leave his wife and children, considering that they would not be able to cope with this difficult situation on their own, so he decided to reveal where the others were hiding. We were brought to a large red brick building and led into a spacious room with several people already inside. There was nothing to lie on or sit on. The only thing that was in this room was a sewer hole in the corner. Fatigue and sleepiness were so noticeable that, despite the uncomfortable positions, everyone quickly fell asleep. A dozen or so tenants like us arrived every day. It became cramped and stuffy. After a few days, the guard told me to gather all my things and go out to the courtyard. Here a column of four was formed and, under the escort of guards, we were taken to a railway siding where there were covered freight wagons with windows barred with barbed wire. There was no doubt that this transport was prepared for deportation to Siberia and we would go just like our predecessors from four months ago. Stuffing people in wagons like herrings in a barrel.

Włodzimierz Wołyński, June 1940

Source: Sybirak no. 13, Białystok 1995