Isa's diary

CW: Refugee trauma

Isa's diary

January 6th, 1920

Both the War and the Revolution are over. We have survived. We have peace at last. But now we are refugees.

We pick our way down the steep, ridged, shaky gangplank, holding tight on to the rope railing. Father has pushed us ahead so my older sister and I would be the first to place our feet on free land. He has given Tamara his small but weighty box of valuables to carry, as he has the heavier bags. I shuffle down sideways, holding onto the swinging handrail. Tamara hugs the box close and has only one hand to hold with. Her lips are pressed tight in concentration. Mother tries to steady her, placing a hand on her shoulder, but she shakes it off,

'Don't Mama, I'm OK.'

We had survived the of terror of the Bolsheviks as they approached our Odessa. The Black Sea had saved us. We arrive today as refugees in Germany on the German steamship Arta[i] together with remnants of the defeated German Army, that the Allies have determined should not be left to fester in a Communist Russia and perhaps further their cause. This was the last German-captained ship that the Allies were allowing to leave Odessa. All through our sail we are escorted by either French or English frigates. I must get used to the fact that our Russia, our Ukraine, our beautiful Odessa on the glittering blue Black Sea is gone for ever.

Our voyage has been into and through the Sea of Marmora past Istanbul and the Dardanelles to the bliss of warmth on our backs, as we take our turns on deck peeling potatoes in the Mediterranean. A bliss that is shattered as we pass Gibraltar and encounter the Bay of Biscay storms. Now after a full month's sailing we have arrived at dock 5 in Hamburg harbour.

We are safe, safe, safe! No more Bolsheviks and Cheka secret police. I try to grab Tamara's hands to dance round in circles with her but this does not go smoothly, as she still has that precious box under her left arm. Papa nudges us gently on.

'Come on girls, you’re blocking the way, others want to get off too.'

A nasty shock awaits us as we leave the dockside. The family is separated, men to one side, women and children to the other. We are shepherded into a large hall where to Mama's shock we are instructed to undress completely and to place our clothes in the sacks provided. They have labels attached and we are invited to write our names on them. Somehow, Mama has the needed pencil in her little handbag and carefully writes FRITZ in bold capitals. We stuff everything from all of us into two canvas bags.

We are six, sister Tamara, Mamma, and I, together with Aunt Nellie and her two boys, Witold and Nikolai. Having landed so gleefully in Hamburg harbour, now we stand naked and shivering in the fumes of the de-lousing hall, coughing and spluttering in the choking disinfectant fumes. We are surrounded by strangers. Aunt Julia and her boys are alone. There is no father standing lonely in the other hall, desperate to meet them again outside. Her husband, our Uncle Carl, Papa's older brother, had been shot in his own cellar by the Cheka. We are lucky. We still have our Papa who must now also be standing naked with strange men around him. Mama naked, holding her handbag, makes a sad image that I shall never forget. I have never seen Mama naked before. I thought she looked quite good for someone so old. I have never seen anyone naked, except Tamara. Witold, who is my age, is obviously feeling awkward to be undressed among so many naked females. I give him a smile, staring him straight in the face, not looking down. He gives me a sheepish grin in return. I like Witold. We are good friends. I then think how brave he is. With his father dead, he is now the man of the house. I don't know how we would have survived without our Papa.

I am relieved and so proud of Papa that he has managed to rescue us from the evil Cheka. They would have murdered Papa for sure, as they had Uncle Carl, had they caught us. And even if they did not murder Tamara and me, they would have 'educated' us to become Bolsheviks. Mama, they would have made to sweep the streets and would be spat at, or worse. But I am also worried, what will it be like here in Germany? We will have to speak German all the time. In Russia Tamara and I had been lazy and avoided doing so as much as we could. Only Oma (Grandma) insisted, and she had remained behind. I want to cry when I think of her all alone, being pestered by the Bolsheviks. Tamara and I preferred speaking in either Russian, like our school friends in Odessa - or, if we wanted to show off, French at which we were perfect as we had spoken it with our governess Mademoiselle Voutaz since we were babies.

There is a commotion at the far end of the hall, as attendants dressed in white bring the sacks of clothes and start shouting out the names on the labels. We hear the name Fritz and before Aunt Julia can say anything Witold dashes off through the confused crowd of naked standing bodies. Tamara and I follow. We return to our weakly smiling mothers - they are amused at our enthusiasm - lugging the two heavy hessian sacks between us. Both the sacks and the clothing inside are damp and warm. Papa says later that he assumes that our things had been steam-treated to kill any lice.

He is waiting for us as we emerge, and is as uncomfortable and dishevelled as we, in his crumpled suit and very misshapen trilby. Our damp clothing and the breeze flowing through the narrow alleys between the tall warehouses of the harbour, makes the January chill even sharper. Outside the harbour gates we pile into a taxi with our bags, still shivering. Aunt Julia and her boys hail a separate taxi to join different friends in town.

We have been invited to stay with the Schlesingers, Papa and Mama's friends in Hamburg. They live at Schrödingerstiftstraße, 6, near the Innen Alster, in the best part of town. Although they did not know at what time of day to expect us, they are ready and make us so welcome when we knock on the door. Kafe und Kuchen straight away. They offer Tamara and me milk but I choose milky coffee. I nestle into the soft warm sofa. I hug my children's mug close, take a deep breath, relax and look around the beautiful living room. We are back in the sort of surroundings we are used to. We are no longer running for our lives.

January 7th, January

Next morning, only one day after our arrival, I already feel so much better. Warm, clean clothes and a good breakfast make all the difference. Frau Schlesinger says we should call her aunty. She had arranged for our dresses to be cleaned and ironed overnight so we felt smart again. Aunty has plans to take Tamara and me to Hamburg Hagenbeck Zoo, while Papa and Mama make contacts and decide what to do next. Papa, will be sending a telegram to Mercedes in Stuttgart to see whether they will give him a position. His hopes are high, as he had founded, owned and managed the highly successful Mercedes agency in Odessa, before it was destroyed by the Bolsheviks. Papa has already been busy on the phone and is waiting for telegrammic replies.

The Zoo is amazing with elephants, camels, lions and tigers. It is scary at first, as there are no bars and it seems that the tigers can come and tear us to pieces if they wanted. But as we nervously get closer, we could see they are separated from us by deep moats. This does not stop the elephants reaching across with their long trunks, begging to be fed. I am given an apple and hold it up to a huge grey beast who takes it from my hand so gently for such a large animal. As we walk on to the monkey compound, I try to imagine what it must be like to pick everything up with your nose. I surreptitiously wipe my hands on my dress and wonder whether it was snot or spit I am removing. After spending a full two hours touring between the many animal enclosures, including getting face to face with sharks in the aquarium, Aunty suggests we might like to have a snack before returning. This is an unexpected addition to our treat. She takes us by taxi to the Hotel Vierjahreszeiten, a very grand hotel, so I am pleased we had dressed properly. Despite the posh surroundings, we have a snack. It is Krabbentoast, which is toasted bread rolls filled with small brown North Sea shrimps. This, Aunty explains, is a Hamburg speciality. That with a salad and an Apfelsaft, is a novelty for us and a great treat. From the hotel we walk back to the apartment, thanking Aunty all the way and saying what a fantastic morning we had had. On hearing of our adventure Mama rightly says we have been spoiled but is clearly happy that we can now relax and think of the future.

After such a great day Tamara and I are sorry to be told that we are going to leave for Stuttgart tomorrow by an early morning train. Mercedes has offered Papa that job. What great news! The Revolution had destroyed the Mercedes businesses in Moscow and St Petersburg, as well as in Odessa. Both Papa and Mercedes have lost money and property to the Bolsheviks.

Next morning we leave Hamburg for Stuttgart. Papa does not even have to pay for train tickets, as he is given a free Red Cross travel voucher. The German authorities are doing all they can to welcome refugees like us, who have fled the Russian Revolution. We headed for the Cannstatt area of Stuttgart, where the headquarters of Mercedes are located. Papa has already organised a hotel for us to stay, and after only two weeks he rents a large house in Cannstatt at Teckstraße, 92.

I will be ten next month and Tamara fourteen in September. I can hardly believe it. We had been so busy running and hiding from the CheKa that we didn't celebrate either birthday in 1919. This year I am sure Mama will let us both have parties. What will it be like in a German school? Will we make friends?