JOURNEYS Mennonite Stories of Faith and Survival in Stalins Russia, John B. Toews, 1998

he had for¬ gotten a sketch and wanted to hurry back to get it. He told a guard and hurried off. A shot was fired. The verdict: “shot while seeking to escape.” All my dearest friends were dead. I alone was left. I came home exhausted and depressed. For several days I couldn’t even leave the house. Slowly I began to think of my re¬ turn to the Karaganda camp. I felt insecure and unhappy. I had only a few old friends in the village: a Ukrainian Schevelyov and a white Russian Karpovitsch. They had lived in our village since 1917. One day we were together and strong drink loosened their tongues. They were waiting for the Germans even though there was no talk of war. They wanted dissolution of the collectives and a return to private land ownership. I was uncomfortable with the conversa¬ tion and quickly left. I knew of too many cases where released prisoners were arrested. My leave lasted until February 22, 1941. It was only early February but a family council decided I should leave. Saying goodbye to my loved ones was difficult since the future was dark and uncertain for all of us. It was the last time I saw my beloved mother and my sister Lena, but I did not know it at the time. ISLAND IN THE STEPPE 133 During my stopover in Moscow I purchased such textbooks on genetics, biology and animal husbandry as I could find. We were warned of severe snowstorms in Kazakhstan which had closed all the railways and so I purchased as many provisions as possible for the long journey. The journey went well until Petropavlovsk. From here all the rail lines were blocked and had to be cleared by hand. My provisions dwindled and soon I stood in line at the railway buffets .... I was standing in line at a town called Borovye . . . when I noticed a familiar figure in a short sheepskin jacket. He had difficulty keeping his place in the line-up. It was my friend Butz. I ran to him and filled his pockets with buns. Tears rolled down his dirty cheeks. I found out which car he was in and joined him once the train got underway. The poor chap .... He was freed in 1940 after serving ten years. He was offered a position in the camp which he rejected. He only wished to be free. Unable to return to the Ukraine he crisscrossed Siberia and Kazakhstan. He was curtly rejected when¬ ever anyone saw his documents. These indicated he had been sentenced under article 58:2 — “armed insurrection.” It took us ten days to reach Karaganda, a journey which normally lasted twelve hours .... I wanted to leave Butz in Karaganda since he was very weak. He wouldn’t hear of it. “I want to go home,” he insisted. We all chuckled at the irony of fate. The camp had become his home .... It all ended well. Our supervisor Serikov, a good specialist and administrator, welcomed him back personally and even sent a doctor to examine him .... Late on Saturday, June 21, 1941, I returned from my inspec¬ tion trip of the various farms. I was determined to sle