| Leben & Wirken (Englisch) |
My father, in the Red Army, took part in the liberation campaign in Western Ukraine and liked Lviv. Across from the Brigidki prison was a jewelry store, and my father paused to admire the watches—those were rare in the USSR. The jeweler, seeing a Jewish Red Army soldier, invited him to lunch and asked what to expect from the Soviet regime. My father candidly explained that they’d take his shop, his apartment, and maybe even exile him. “But this is my shop! My apartment! How can they take it?” Father advised him to sell what he could and flee. Whether he followed the advice is unknown.
My father happened to be in the guardhouse of the Kyiv Tank School when the war broke out. He had gone back to the barracks wearing his uniform and carrying an umbrella—after forging himself a weekend pass (he had access to a typewriter, and Vanya had carved a stamp). Back then, Red Army soldiers didn’t walk with umbrellas. When the bombing started in the morning, he and the guards stepped into the yard to watch—it was fascinating. [2] |