On the ill-fated 13 April, late at night, I heard a knock at the door and a voice: ‘ Otkroy dveri!’ [open the door!]—then three NKVD officers together with six militiamen came in and, having read the order of the Supreme Council that we were to be deported Siberia they began to carry out a detailed search, taking whatever they wanted. That’s where our Polish money, rings and tableware went.
After the search, they gave us two hours to pack our things but no more than 100 kilos per person. An hour had not yet passed when they ordered us to gather and load up our luggage onto a cart that stood in the street. We carried out our things under the threat of being shot, then locked the door and headed towards the train station. I was escorted by three militiamen all the way to the station. At the station, they loaded us into stinking cattle cars, with horse manure on the floor. It was two days before we left. We were cut off from people and the world. On the third day we set off in the early morning on a long transport, consisting of 140 wagons, with at least 25 people in each.
We traveled without water until the last station on Polish territory, Mikaszewicz, where we changed train and there was a second search. After moving everything, all the men were forced to shunt the wagons at rifle-point. Raging thirst, but no water. The next day they handed out buckets and allowed us to get water, after which the transport set off and we began to approach the border. At 10:00 a.m., we crossed the Polish-Soviet border, and at the first station we heard some boytsy [fighters] taunting us, saying: your capitalist and bourgeois Poland is over. That’s how we arrived in Homel, where, for the first time, we received some hot food and 100 grams of bread. From there, we received water every other day. After three weeks of travel, we came to the “Shmirshovo” [?] station, where they threw us out into the open and left us in the hands of fate, giving us neither food nor water.
We waited three days for trucks to arrive, and they then loaded 20 people and sent them 200 km from the station to various collective farms, where the persecution and harassment began. Initially, they threw us into a smelly cattle barn, and then it was possible to rent living quarters for a fee. The initial period was hard and all we could do was grin and bear it. It was tough to listen to the various brutal insults and expressions, but over time, they began to soften when they saw they were having no effect, but they forced us to work on the land, without any remuneration for our work.
After some time, they summoned all the Poles to the ‘NKVD office’ and ordered us to sign up for Soviet citizenship. This met with our refusal—none of the Poles fell for that nonsense. So, they showered us with various curses and meted out a new wave of persecution. They forbade the Poles to leave the village without the permission of the NKVD. Over time this ceased to be a threat, because we had to live on something, so we brought clothes and things to exchange with other collective farms, and then we went to work for the farmers and could earn at least a few rubles, and more importantly live for a few days. A little later, an order was issued to take on Poles for work, so everyone was looking for wherever was better, and fortune shone upon whoever had strength, health and could work physically. But whoever was weak was condemned to starvation because the authorities provided no care at all. Therefore, people were ravaged by diarrhea and other illnesses, and there was nothing to bury the dead in and they were not even willing to allocate some space in the cemetery.
A cruel winter came in 1940/41. Snow and freezing temperatures took a terrible toll on people. Those who did not endure were forced to die in a foreign and inhospitable land. This is the fate that befell Łukawski the landowner, Jankowska the teacher, Nimiryczowa and others. Then came the spring, the melting snow caused floods, and people could not find a safe haven for themselves, even in the attics.
We breathed a sigh of relief when the day of the amnesty came. The head of the NKVD read out the act of the agreement and from that time we felt a little freedom: we could walk or even ride wherever we wanted. But it was not so good when it came to the army. When the authorities learned that a Polish army was being organized, they threatened us with imprisonment if we wanted to sign up, so there was nothing we could do but wait. We waited out the summer, autumn and winter, and we had our work to take care of. I worked as a pimokar (I made Siberian felt boots) until 30 January 1942, and the order came to make my way to the army recruitment commission. On the second day we left Petropavlovsk and on 22 January [sic!] I arrived at the Chokpak recruitment station and there I was drafted into the army.