Bombardier Cadet Karol Kijowski, student of the Cadet School in Lwów.
On 12 April 1940, at night, the NKVD authorities arrested me along with my mother, my two sisters, and my brother, and took us away to Kazakhstan. At around midnight, we received an order to immediately prepare for departure far into Russia. We were only allowed to take underwear, bedsheets and some food. We were traveling for 18 days in freight wagons before we reached Kazakhstan, our destination point. There were from 30 to 35 people in a single wagon on average. During the journey, they would give around three loaves of bread and several spoons of sugar for each wagon. Warm meals weren’t provided at all, and even if they were, it would be at two or three at night.
Forced labor site: Kazakhstan, Semipalatinsk Oblast, Ayagoz region, sovkhoz Myn Dulak [Myn Bulak], farm no. 1. The farm was 90 kilometers away from the railway station and was situated amidst the mountains of the Kazakh steppes.
Living conditions were horrible. Around 13–15 people would live in a small room with clay floor, no stoves, and with tiny windows, usually without glass panes. The roofs of the mud huts, covered with clay, were leaking, so that during heavy rains the room would fill with water and everything got wet.
Hygienic conditions were terrible. There was no medical assistance and no medications. Maintaining hygiene was impossible. Drinking water was fetched from a stream, which was also used for washing underwear and bathing. There was no soap. Self-made lamps were used as lighting. Manure was used as a burning fuel. There were no lavatories. In winter, during snowstorms, the snow would cover the mud huts so that we couldn’t leave them for 24 hours, until the neighbors would shovel it off.
The exiles were usually army and State Police officers’ families.
There was a little store at the farm, where you could buy communist books, matches, and bread (800 grams per day).
In summer, we worked on haymaking or on plowing with cattle. We worked from sunrise (2.00–3.00 a.m.) until sunset (9.00 p.m.), with a short dinner break. We slept under the stars, often more than a dozen kilometers away from the farm. Even children, as young as eight years old, were put to work. We would spent the whole summer in the steppe, away from home. Food was scarce: hot water in the morning, noodle soup for dinner (that is, hot water and a few noodles), and hot water with bread in the evening. Those who worked could buy 800 grams of bread [daily], and only 500 grams by the end [of our stay]. Non-workers couldn’t buy bread. In summer, we earned from 50 to 200 rubles. It was very little, considering that 16 kilograms of black flour would cost 120–160 rubles.
In winter, we worked on cleaning the stables and shoveling the snow. The maximum you could earn in winter was between 10 to 50 rubles. The temperatures reached minus 50 degrees [Celsius] in winter.
There was no medical assistance at all. About 30 kilometers from our farm, there was the so-called centrala, where a medical attendant worked in a kind of hospital (two small rooms). There were no medications in that hospital, except for iodine and potassium permanganate. Every two months, the attendant would arrive with a Polish doctor – but what could they do without medicines? Many people were ill with scurvy. Their gums would rot and teeth would fall out, and they would have ulcers on their bodies. The only remedy that the hospital attendant gave them was potassium permanganate, to rinse their mouths. Among 80 Poles, six died, that is: Maria Kaliszczuk, about 50 years old; Stefan Graf, about six years old; Soroka. I don’t recall the surnames of the other three.
Communication with the country was fairly good. The letters would arrive within 10–15 days, though not all of them got through. It was possible to receive parcels with food and clothing, and Polish books were often sent, too. In many cases, however, a parcel would arrive open, with all valuable items (shoes, clothes) stolen. Some parcels were lost on the way.
I was released on 30 September 1941. One day, the NKVD came to the farm and informed me that we were all freed under the Polish-Russian agreement. They explained why they took us from Poland in the first place, that is to drive us away from the Germans and save our lives. Soon after they said it would be better if nobody left anywhere, as common work needs to be done to achieve victory together. They said nobody would get any means of transport to the station, which was 90 kilometers away. They said if somebody wanted to go, they could rent oxen and a cart (how can you rent such things, when everything is owned by the state?) and set off to the station, but they wouldn’t let us into a train anyway, as wagons were meant for the army exclusively. It was true. For two following weeks nobody could leave, but gradually, they started to allow departures. Many families stayed, as early winter made it impossible to set out.
I joined the Polish army on 4 March 1942 in Kitob.