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

.. Fortunately our girls Maria, Lenie and Annie were in school at the time of my arrest. It began on September 1. Our five-year-old son Aron, or “Bubi” as we called him, was playing with his friends. He ran home when he saw the truck coming. He pressed through the crowd of strange men, climbed on my lap and asked whether I had brought him some candy. It was such a moving scene that some of the men could not hide their tears. Hilda, our little doll, was at our Uncle Johann Reimer. They lived with us for a while, then built a little house across the street. I was told to hurry. It was very difficult to say goodbye to my wife, for we had no idea how long this forced separation would last. 176 JOURNEYS 7 I said my last goodbye to the piece of land which I not only treasured but loved. I walked by my beloved horses for the last time. I shook the hands of those with whom I had worked during the past years. There I was, a young man of thirty-three saying goodbye, ready to hand over the keys in my pocket. My own will, my own striving had to submit to the new realities. I was no longer a valued and respected member of society. From this mo¬ ment onward many who were supposedly my friends will turn away from me and never again think well of me. Others, usually belonging to the poor and the powerless, will remember me with compassion. In the village the truck stood ready. Several other men from our collective farm were added to the group, among others the brother of our chairman, Gerhard Harms, then an old man and our parents’ neighbor, and Mr. Froese. En route we picked up my school mate, Jakob Tjart. By the time we left the German villages we had collected over twenty men .... When I was already chained to the truck and surrounded by armed soldiers I saw a familiar and respected man. I tried to wave to him but he ignored my greeting and turned away from me. Everyone feared contact with people who were regarded as enemies of the people. This was the first great hurt I carried with me into my new life. By contrast, my mother whom I had warned to stay away, came right up to the truck, touched my hand for the last time and gave me a last kiss. If we would not meet here again, she emphasized, we would meet in the house of our Father where there was no parting. My brother Peter, just out of the army, also squeezed my hand. They had already taken his father and now it was his brothers turn. There was such confusion. Both Peter and my younger brother Jacob had served in the [Red] Army for two years. They learned about the new political structure and believed what they were taught. More new experiments, then everything was thrown overboard .... Yes, those years were full of insecurity and contradictions. Only fifteen weeks ago I sat in the cab of the same truck now taking me into an unknown future. Then I was on my way to our district capital in order to attend to business and governmental matters. Now m