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

ack to our road. Our youthful female guide was over¬ joyed. We all found it amazing that the animal intuitively knew where to go. If we could not keep up the horse actually stopped to wait for us. Never once did it stray from the trail. Some only saw an intelligent animal, I saw the gracious finger of God .... Now we journeyed leisurely and without too much concern. It was a lovely April day as we happily went our way. Late after¬ noon we saw a large group of people coming towards us. There were several brigades of prisoners armed with spades and shovels who had been sent to open the roadway for us ... . They were surprised that we had managed to traverse the thick forest and deep snow. We reached the second camp before dark .... Next morning early we prepared to leave for our final destination .... We still had ninety-nine horses. We left two healthy ones on a collective farm and had to shoot one en route .... In order to get to the third camp we had to cross another river .... None of the authorities wanted to authorize the crossing, since no one knew whether the ice was firm enough. I rode on to the ice, made my inspection and then ordered the teams to slowly cross .... I sent many a prayer to our Creator and everyone safely arrived on the other side. Quickly we drove to our destination .... I was walking through the barracks waking our men when someone called my name. Several deeply unhappy people informed me that survival here was extremely difficult. Food and clothing were scarce and the camp administration brutal. Their faces and clothing told me they belonged to the least fortunate in the world. Now the last day of our journey began. We reached our des¬ tination late in the afternoon .... They were expecting us. After the horses were unhitched ... we were escorted into the camp under double guard. We were again among prisoners and had to adjust accordingly. It was back to misery, suffering, grief, spiritual and mental agony. Perhaps one's last, eternal rest lay somewhere in the surrounding forest. * * * * Now a new chapter began in my life. During my life in the Gulag Id heard of such penal camps, but had never been in one until now. Only people who violated camp rules or refused to submit to camp life were sent here. Compared with normal camps, MEMOIRS OF ARON WARKENTIN 209 these were very strict. There were twice as many guards and work norms were strictly enforced. One stayed on the job until the quota was filled even if it meant going without sleep or food .... It was difficult for a virtuous person to survive here since such camps were usually run by hard, ruthless men .... The camp stocked a lot of sawn lumber, but lacked the horses for transport.... After I signed over the horses ... I was placed under strict guard like everyone else. I was as helpless as all the other prison¬ ers. I had no freedom of movement even though I was placed in charge of all the barns and horses