Colaj My Story

It was summer, after Easter; our first class, at 8 o'clock in the morning, was the history class, with Professor Neculai Vedichi. Our classroom was facing the street. Its windows were wide open because it was spring and hot. On Mihai Bravu Street, where our school was, a German unit was marching down. The first cities where the Germans arrived were Constanta and Galati because they were harbours; this is why we had the unit marching: thud-thud, thud-thudů During this time, professor Vedichi entered the classroom with the register under his arm; he put the register on the desk and said: "Gentlemen, I think you've heard the sad news: Paris has fallen, but I believe that France will prevail just like I believe in the Sun rising." Outside there was the German thud. I will never forget this act of courage. We arrived to that city, I told you I do not remember its name, close to Vienna. We spent a lot of time on the railway; it was a two or three-week trip. We were stopping in stations, and there were trains and trucks with Jewish prisoners in them, travelling with us too; they were taken out of the trucks, escorted by German soldiers of course, to get some exercise around the train, probably once a day. I saw it with my own eyes - this really touches me - when they were hungry I think, and they were bending down in between the railways to pick up bread crust and potato peel to eat. These are things I remember and have seen with my own eyes. 26-28 June 1940, Cession of Basarabia, the North of Bucovina and the county of Herta Image archive My friend Margareta who passed away last year never forgot the journey she had made. She used to tell me: "Do you remember when your brother was saying Go Neamtu! ?" They got there fast. When they reached the Albita bridge, they were not allowed to cross it anymore, and my poor mother begged that general: "Please let us go, we have children in Romania, please, think about what would happen if we stay here!" "Woman, listen!" - my mother never forgot what that general had said to her - "Woman, listen! In times of war there is no mercy!" "Please, sir, have mercy, let us crossů" "No, woman, listen! In times of war there is no mercy, only laws!" But my mother kept getting closer to him "But, pleaseů", so he tried to scare her and said "Soldier, take this woman and throw her in the Prut river!" He did not mean it, he just wanted to scare her, and she got back to her place; she understood it could not be done. And then he said: "Go through Tiganca", and we all went through Tiganca in the nick of time. He told us we had made it half or a quarter of an hour before the borders was closed. An industrial unit named "Sovromlemn" was built there, in which five of us, all males, got hired. The employees were given a number, a tag; we no longer had our family or Christian names, we only got a tag with a number. We were all registered as rafters; we were taking the rafts on water all the way to Dorna Arinului and we were giving them to the rafters on the Bistrita river. Because there were war casualties among rafters, an oath had to be taken: you were not allowed to leave your work place unless you needed to be hospitalized, and if you could not provide solid evidence that you truly needed to be, you were imprisoned. They were coming all the way to our work place to accuse us of sabotageů Sometimes we were saturated with water; there was no portion of our body that was dry anymore because of the sleet. The rafting was starting in February. We were breaking the ice on the dams for an entire week, and afterwards we were letting the rafts go. The Russians were always in a hurry to get the wood out of our mountains. One has always a lot to learn from the elderly. I have always treasured the things I learnt from them. For example, elderly people would gather in front of the village shop and sit on benches or chairs. They would tell about the war, some of them had been prisoners. Each and everyone of them had something to share. I always joined in. My father was also there and I would take a bootle of wine to them all. One of the villagers, God forgive him, always said to my father: " You have such a good boy" There are so many things I learnt from the elderly. This is why I am now able to tell you stories...