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

this list? I noted his barrack number and went over to find him. We greeted each other warmly .... Suddenly he stopped in the middle of our conversation. “Do you know your brother is here?” “What brother?” I responded. “Hans.” “Yes, I have a brother by that name!” “Come quickly.” We walked through the corridors. I carefully examined each face by lantern light. There he was - my dear brother Hans! He was lying on his back, eyes closed. I shook his leg and called softly, “Hans! Hans!” He sat up and incredulously stared into my face. I sat down beside him and we hugged each other. For a while we just sat there silently. Then came the questions and the answers. Hans informed me that all the administrators of the Svetlodolinsk (Lichtenau) butter factory were arrested. . .and that he was sen¬ tenced to ten years. He had nothing to report from home. (He was arrested in April 1936,1 in January 1936). I spent the night talking with him. Pavel Butz brought us boiled water and we ate together. In his travels Hans had not met any other of our acquaintances. I left warily in the morning and went to see Fortunatov who was just having breakfast. I told him of my brother. He gave me a pass to the central camp administration and told me whom to see. Thanks to Fortunatov my brother Hans was able to work in the butter factory in Dolinka .... He got a small hut to live in and was very happy. We often exchanged letters and even man¬ aged to see each other several times during the winter of 1936—37 though this proved difficult. I had no pass to visit the “capital city” of Dolinka. If the weather was bad I took a horse and, avoid¬ ing the guards, rode to see Hans. Hans was always concerned about me. If I had been caught my sentence would have been extended. It was a happy time for us - as happy as one can be under such circumstances. 120 JOURNEYS In the spring of 1937 many in the camp were arrested includ¬ ing my bother Hans. They were taken to Del-Del, near Lake Sasik-kul. No one knew why. Early one morning I rode to our sheep barn. A thick fog covered the step and I got lost. I soon met two other riders who were looking for their stray cattle. While we were standing and talking one of them suddenly said: “Look, there is something white.” We rode towards the object and found a blood stained towel. Then we found a few notes caught in the tall grass. On one of them was pencilled: “We are being shot. We are innocent.” There were large graves but we always believed only horses were buried there. We found another note also in pencil but it was illegible. No names, no addresses. Dear God what fear seized my heart. Was my brother Hans buried here? All three were dumbfounded. Quietly and quickly we rode our separate ways. I found no peace. The image appeared again and again — long, large, partially closed graves, the bloody towel, scraps of pa¬ per with some words obviously written by executed victims. In Dolink