The Secret Holocaust Diaries: The Untold Story of Nonna Bannister Page 3

  The baby was crying, and we knew that we had to find some way to feed her, but there was absolutely no way. We had no milk or anything to put liquids of any kind into. Some of the women tried to nurse the baby, but it was impossible. We thought that if we could keep the baby quiet until the next train stop, one of us could take her to the wooded area close to a road, and leave her there with a note written in Polish, making it look like some Polish woman had abandoned her. Then perhaps some Polish people would find the baby and adopt her, or at least take care of her. Everyone was trying to think of some idea to handle this situation.

  * * *

  “WE HAD NO MILK” • The Germans required qualified women workers to be between ages 16 and 35, and though infants were not allowed, it was certainly possible that some women had recently given birth and might still be able to nurse.

  * * *

  However, there was a young woman in our car who absolutely refused to go along with any of it. Her name was Dunja—she was from the same town that Mama and I were from. She kept saying that she would tell the Germans about the whole thing and that no way would she take part in protecting or saving a zydowka (a Jew girl), even if she was just a baby. She would not agree to our ideas—the only one she wanted to save was herself. Of course, everyone was worried about her—especially Mama, since Dunja had directed all her threats toward Mama.

  Suddenly, when we did not expect it, our train began to slow down in the middle of the fields, and the train was coming to a stop. The baby was crying, and we were all absolutely terrified. The German soldiers jumped out of the cars ahead and rushed to all the cars yelling, “Raus! Raus!” There was a truckload of German soldiers near the track ahead, and we knew immediately that these were SS men. I tried to listen to the Germans and figure out what they were saying so I could know what was going on.

  It seemed that we were coming closer to German land, and this was an inspection of all the train cars and occupants. The Germans wanted to make sure that there were no Jews smuggled out of Poland. I looked back and saw Mama holding baby “Sarah” in her arms, and terror struck me all over again. What happens now? But we didn’t have to wait long to find out, as the baby let out a cry, and the German soldier that had ordered us out of the rail car looked at us with disbelief.

  Before anyone could say anything, Dunja yelled, “It’s a baby Jew—the Jewish woman threw it into our car at the last stop!” She could not say it in German very well, but it was good enough for the German soldier to understand. He motioned for other soldiers, and they rushed toward us. Mama held onto the baby very tightly and would not let go as the German soldier tried to take her. I started to beg Mama to give the baby to him before he used force. Finally another soldier grabbed Mama by her shoulders, and the German soldier took the baby.

  The soldier handed the baby to an SS man who carried the baby away—holding her body in his one hand, and letting it hang down by his side. Mama broke into tears, and with terror in my heart, I watched the SS man carry the infant to the truck. He raised up one of his knees and with a swift motion brought the baby’s body down against his knee.

  I no longer heard the baby cry, and when I tried to move, I could not. I felt the blood leaving my head, and I was feeling sick and dizzy. When I came to, I was standing by the door of the rail car, throwing up violently. Mama was kneeling beside me, and she was saying over and over again, “They killed my Taissia, my sweet baby!” I realized that she was still in shock, and I put my arms around her and held her very tightly.

  Life Before the War

  3: Family Background

  * * *

  GRANDMOTHER’S FAMILY • Nonna’s mother’s family, the only extended family Nonna knew, was very important to her; she cherished their memories until her death. At the end of her diary transcription, she included more background information on Yakov and Feodosija’s life and family.

  Nonna’s maternal great-grandfather, of whom she and her family were very proud, was a Russian count and a Cossack—a member of an autonomous people group in Asian Russia or Eastern Europe whose name means, roughly, “free person.” Nonna’s maternal grandfather followed in his father’s Cossack tradition.

  Nonna never met this charismatic grandfather, but as a child she looked at his portrait above the fireplace mantel at Grandmother’s house with great love and admiration and loved to hear her grandmother’s many stories about his good looks and courage. Nonna wrote, “My Grandmother, Feodosija Nikolayevna Ljaschova (born the daughter of Count Nikolai Andrevejevich Kozlova and Countess Maria Fedorovna Kozlova). Beyond this point, the true names escape my memory, if I was ever told. There are no written documents about them in my possession.” It is likely that the Andreyevich spelling was intended instead.

  Nonna also mentioned her grandmother’s grandmother, who lived to the age of 114 years, and who, according to Nonna’s grandmother’s stories, climbed up on a roof at age 114, fell off, broke her hip in two places, and died from infection and gangrene.

  * * *

  Novorossisk, Russia, 1917

  My great-grandfather’s name was Alexander Alexyevich Ljaschov. He was a count and also a Cossack. He fought in the war with the Tatars around Odesa near the Azov Sea. He was killed in the war somewhere near Odesa. His son, Yakov Alexandrovich Ljaschov, was to become my grandfather.

  * * *

  YAKOV ALEXANDROVICH LJASCHOV • Nonna’s transcript gives her grandfather’s name as both Jacob Alexandrovich Ljaschov and Yakov Sergeyevich Ljaschov. Because Yakov’s father’s first name was Alexander, Yakov’s second name was most likely Alexandrovich, so we have used that name. It is possible that the Sergeyevich Nonna mentions belonged rather to Yakov’s father, whose name she gives as Alexander Alexyevich Ljaschov.

  * * *

  I never knew my grandfather but was told many stories about him and his life when I was growing up as a child. My grandmother had an oil portrait of Grandfather, and she would hang it above the mantel over the large fireplace in the Great House when the family was all together. When the family left, she would take the portrait down, carefully wrapping it in blankets, and would store it in the attic due to the political changes that had taken place during the Bolshevik Revolution.

  Grandmother would gather all her family around the fireplace in the evenings and tell the stories about Grandfather and his life, and about what a loving, kind man he had been. My, he looked dashing and courageous wearing his white Cossack uniform, with his sword hanging down by his side.

  * * *

  GRANDFATHER’S PORTRAIT • Grandmother hid the portrait of Grandfather, who had served the last Tsar, because at the time of Bolshevik rule, Nicholas II sympathizers were in grave danger. Feodosija wanted her children and grandchildren to know the family’s past, but she instructed them to keep it secret.

  * * *

  My grandfather married the daughter of a wealthy landowner whose name was Nikolai Dezhnev, and her name was Feodosija Nikolayevna Ljaschova. From this marriage, six children were born: Ivan, Xenja, Anna (my mother), Leonid, Antonja, and Zhenya. My grandfather was a wealthy landowner, and he owned seven grain mills scattered in southern Russia and the Ukraine. His land holdings were huge, and at each grain mill there was a dacha with a hired hand to take care of it when my grandparents were away at the other mill sites. I know that the favorite place of all was in Konstantinowka, where they had a thirty-seven-room house referred to as the Great House.

  My grandfather grew up steeped in the Cossack traditions, and it was natural for him to follow in the footsteps of his father and become a Cossack. He was accepted into the Imperial Cossack Army in 1907, and in 1909, he was named to a post in the Imperial Guard Staff and was honored by Tsar Nicholas II as a faithful servant to the Tsar. In 1916, Grandfather assumed a post in the Imperial Protection Unit to protect the Tsar and his family during those troubled times when the Bolsheviks were preparing for the Revolution. The beginning of World War I was imminent, along with the internal struggles that were going on i
nside Russia. My grandfather was engaged in transporting people of influence out of Russia, where the center of the revolution was taking place. The revolution reached its peak in the fall of 1917, and everything in Russia was in chaos. It was late fall, and my grandfather and grandmother had made plans to leave their home and to flee from Russia and attempt to sail from the Black Sea to Romania or some other safe place.

  Feodosija Nikolayevna Ljaschova (my grandmother), along with her six children were waiting impatiently and with much anxiety for her husband and their father, Yakov, to return. The trunks were packed with as many belongings as they could risk taking along. It was all planned carefully that as soon as Yakov returned, they would take a long journey—perhaps across the sea into a safer location. Yakov was about two hundred kilometers from home with just one more train (perhaps the last one) with the few lucky ones that would make it. Yakov could not abandon these people—after all he was a Cossack and was proud to serve his country—Mother Rossija—and His Majesty Tsar Nicholas II. He was a man of strength and courage, and it would not be long now that they would cross the most dangerous zone, and he would fulfill his duties and return to his own family. However—the last train did not make it, and it was there in the darkness of the woods that the Bolsheviks were waiting. They had the power now, and the “dogs” had to die, since anyone that was not one of them was surely a threat to the “New Society” and had to be destroyed.

  Feodosija Nikolayevna and her children were waiting, but Yakov was not coming. It was near dawn when Dimitry Ivanovich (Yakov’s friend) arrived with Yakov’s jacket covered with blood. He also had his pocket watch, which was crushed. You could see the hands stopped at two o’clock—which could have been afternoon or morning; no one knew for sure. Feodosija was stricken with grief, but she had to remain strong and could not panic—now she had to think fast—the Bolsheviks would surely come to get her and the children. Dimitry Ivanovich was strongly encouraging her to take the children and flee—but the decision had to be made quickly, and they had to leave as soon as possible.

  * * *

  FALL 1917 • War, hunger, and angst caused Old Mother Russia to toss and turn in chaos in 1917. Nicholas II, the last Romanov Tsar, was a weak ruler. After three hundred years of Romanov rule, the Tsar’s foundation crumbled. Hunger, poverty, and the Bolsheviks proved stronger than Nicholas’s imperial government. His empire finally collapsed at the hands of the Bolsheviks. The Tsar abdicated, putting his friends and followers at great risk.

  Feodosija, the maternal grandmother Nonna loved so much, waited in vain with her six young children for her husband to return and take them to safety. Feodosija was a strong, courageous woman and an active member of the Russian Orthodox Church. She made sure each of her children, and later her grandchildren, were christened as infants by a priest in the Russian Orthodox Church.

  * * *

  Yakov and Feodosija owned several villas that were scattered across the south. There were dachas and windmills (or water mills) along with some fine houses. However, there was one place in the Ukraine, an area untouched by the troubled times, and it was close enough to Poland and the rest of Europe to perhaps provide an escape route. The name of the place was Konstantinowka (Santurinowka), where Yakov owned a mill along with a fine house; it was a large house where they had spent many summers. The Ukrainian people there were not involved in the changes that were taking place in the rest of the country. There was a big orchard at the estate—large enough to grow fruit for a profit. The friend who had brought the sad news about Grandfather was willing to help Grandmother make a quick move.

  Feodosija was a woman of courage, and she had to save her children. She decided that no one should know about her husband and how he lost his life. Now it was a matter of survival for her and the rest of the family.

  There were four horses and a carriage still in the stables, and this was good news. Now they could travel through the woods and use the narrow roads, since they had 250 kilometers to travel. God must have been watching over them, as they made the trip safely.

  When they arrived, the place was still locked up and was quiet and undisturbed. It was good to find it just the way they had left it the last summer they had spent in it. It was a big and comfortable home with lots of furnishings, and the curtains were still in place. The keeper of the estate, Petrovich, had kept the gardens and the yard in good shape.

  He cried when he was told of the sad news about his “Master Yakov.” He had a great respect for him and never wanted to leave and go anywhere else. Yakov and Petrovich used to talk about “Mother Russia” and her oncoming downfall, and they shared good feelings about the Tsar. There was no news about the turnover and the chaos that was happening in the rest of the country. The people in this small part of the Ukraine were too busy with their lives and paid little attention to the big changes that were taking place all around them.

  * * *

  “ONCOMING DOWNFALL” • On July 17, 1918, the Bolsheviks murdered Tsar Nicholas II, his wife, and their children. They had earlier sent them by train to Siberia—to Ekaterinburg—and forced them to live in a house on Liebknecht ulitsa. Revolutionaries shot the family and speared them with bayonets. Then they cut up their bodies, soaked them with gasoline, and burned them in a bonfire. Thus ended three hundred years of Romanov rule in Russia.

  No doubt the deaths of the Tsar and his family upset Feodosija deeply. She and her husband, the Tsar’s loyal Cossack, had loved and respected Nicholas II and his family. It is likely that Feodosija’s life, as well as her children’s lives, were in danger from the Bolsheviks too. Nonna described her grandmother as “a special person,” “full of love and caring,” who made a tremendous impact on her life. “She, too, had many heartbreaks in her own life, but she never complained, and told us mostly happy stories.”

  * * *

  Petrovich had been with the Ljaschov family for many, many years. He stayed in Konstantinowka, taking care of the Great House and its orchard, the horses, and a dog and a cat. The cat’s name was Katja, and she lived her full “nine lives” to become an old cat. Petrovich was the caretaker of the estate while the family was living in other parts of southern Russia, where Grandfather would tend to his other grain mills. Grandfather was dependent on Petrovich to take care of the Great House, where the family would come to spend some time during the summer months. Sometimes they would arrive with a new baby that had been born in one of the other places where Grandfather owned grain mills—like my mama, who was born in another town—Novorossisk. Then others like Aunt Tonja or Uncle Zhenya—almost all of my aunts and uncles were born in different places. I really don’t remember which ones were born in the Great House—perhaps Uncle Ivan and Aunt Xenja.

  Petrovich did not have a family of his own, and he lived in a cottage that was located between the orchard and the stables. He was alone, and I don’t know where Grandfather found him or how he became such a trusted and beloved employee of the family. However, he was a kind man, and we all liked him very much, especially the children. We loved to visit him in his cottage because it was so cozy there. Petrovich would tell us some funny stories and play games with us such as checkers, cards, or even chess. When we came to visit Grandmother, we all looked for Petrovich as soon as we arrived.

  Petrovich had been working for my grandfather and grandmother for so long that he was just like a member of our family. Many of my fond memories as a child revolve around him and the time he shared with us.

  * * *

  PETROVICH • Nonna carried a photograph of Petrovich in her pillow during the Holocaust. She greatly loved and admired the caretaker of the Great House. It seemed that Petrovich became a sort of surrogate father and protector for Feodosija’s children after the Bolsheviks killed Yakov. Nonna described Petrovich as a “trusted and beloved employee of the family,” a “kind man . . . we all liked him very much—especially the children.”

  * * *

  4: Mama’s Family

  Yakov Ljaschov, my grandfathe
r, married Feodosija Nikolayevna. They had eight children, two of whom died as babies. The surviving children that I knew and remember were Ivan, Xenja, Anna, Antonja, Leonid, and Zhenya.

  Uncle Vanya (Ivan) married Olga Pavlova, and they had five children:

  Dimitry

  Halina

  Aljoscha

  Later two more children were born—their names escape my memory.

  Uncle Vanya and his family moved to Taganrog, the place we used to live and where I was born, into our old home, and it was there that he lived with his wife and children until his death. He was a test pilot, and his plane exploded over the Azov Sea in the late 1930s (just before World War II). His wife, Olga, and the children remained in Taganrog until the Germans moved in.

  Aunt Xenja married Vladimir Stepanovich, whose family were owners of many coal mines in and around Uralsk prior to the Revolution. They had no children. Aunt Xenja spoiled me in every way possible. She would have me over at her always luxurious and expensive apartments after they moved to Konstantinowka. She would tell everyone that I was her daughter. Uncle Vladimir would go along with her stories—and he looked like a “papa” too. Mama, however, did not approve of Aunt Xenja’s spoiling me and letting me do things without her approval. However, Aunt Xenja was my favorite aunt, and I loved her and all her sophistication.