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

the wheels of the railway car clicked on the rails the noise re-echoed a hundredfold, yes even a thousandfold, in my soul. I never had difficulty sleeping in all my life, yet now my tired, grey eyes could only stare. My difficult struggles, my prayers of faith, my renewed hope — all to no avail. The endless distances, the impenetrable vastness! A never-ending journey through the night and fog. Across from me lay the calm and, as it had always seemed to me, pious minister Bernhard Wall. When our suffering began he felt obligated to comfort wherever possible, even though I cau¬ tioned him that such activity would get him into further trouble. Now all my self-confidence evaporated and I was at the point of collapse. I was a person whose soul was exhausted to the point of death and welcomed the words of comfort which brother Wall quietly whispered to me. I felt better for I was no longer alone. It was difficult to comprehend, but hundreds of thousands of peo¬ ple were experiencing the same thing during these months. It was not really a judgment of individuals but the speaking of a silent God .... There are simply things in the human story which cannot be understood or explained .... From this point onward my fervent and innermost desire was to get through, to survive. My exhausted limbs revived, my stay¬ ing power renewed and I learned to reaffirm my faith. When one loses the last ray of hope, life is like a rudderless boat tossing about on the wild, stormy sea. Once more I belonged to those who refused to give up hope. Celebrating life in even the most difficult circumstances became my never-ending desire. I changed my dark glasses for a lighter pair. Our prisoner train arrived in Moscow. We were further and further from home, yet closer to God and our real home. I be¬ friended some of the other prisoners in our car — there were five 180 JOURNEYS Germans, many from the Caucasus .... I also met a former police chief to whom I became indebted in my struggle to survive camp life. He was elected as one of our first leaders in camp and we were able to help each other on a number of occasions. There was also a Russian who had spent five years in the camps and he instructed us as to what we might expect. Later I sometimes wished I had paid more attention to what he had said. We spent two days in Moscow. Things are easier if one adapts to difficult circumstances. Here the expression “accept what you cant change” applied. Our journey continued north from Mos¬ cow. Though uncertainty about our future life plagued us, we were nevertheless curious about our new surroundings. Dense forest lined the railway track. Here and there were towns and small settlements. Periodically we saw the so-called work camps. They were surrounded by spiked poles ten to sixteen centimeters in diameter and four to five meters high. There was only one entry and exit door, which was naturally guarded .... During those years a h