Eugene's story - part 1

Tom Holloway (xuegx@csv.warwick.ac.uk)
Sat, 27 Jan 1996 12:02:44 +0000 

My Search for Freedom
By Eugene Halski as told to Rosemary Woodel
Department of Anthropology
University of Georgia

    Eugene Halski was born in 1919 in Makew, Ukraine.  He
    survived Stalin's famine, which killed 8 million Ukrainians,
    including his parents who died of diseases caused by
    malnutrition.  He fought in two wars, one of which was World
    War II.  In 1950 he came to the United States.  He has four
    wonderful children, who helped him raise hundreds of
    thousands of chickens and hundreds of beef cattle.  Gene is
    semi-retired, still raising cattle on his farm in Jackson
    County.  He has seven grandchildren and one brand new
    great-grandchild.  He says he is still learning English.

A few years ago I was taken as a guest to a Veterans club.
Someone asked me whether I was a veteran.  I said I was.  They
asked if I had been in World War II.  I said I had.  They asked
whether I would like to join the club.  "Yes, I would, but I
don't think I would be accepted."  They asked me why.  My
answer was, "I was in the wrong army."

When I was drafted in 1939 into the Russian army, I was 21
years old.  I was not a Russian.  I was born and was living in
Ukraine, a country to the west of Russia but part of the Soviet
Union.  The communists, who called my family "enemies of the
people" because we would not submit to the collective system,
saw fit to "pardon" me when they declared war on Finland,
"allowing" me to be a soldier.  Before I could return home after
the war on Finland ended, the new war against Germany began.

My part in the war began June 22, 1941 in Tula, near Moscow.
From then until 1945 I always had freedom on my mind.  These
are the things I did to become free.

In Tula my job was to help protect the second largest
ammunition dump in the Soviet Union.  The 72 mm antiaircraft
cannon I fired was out of date and not maneuverable.  The
horses were eaten and there had to move them by hand.  They got
stuck in the mud and wouldn't budge.  We had to leave them
there.  Deserters filled every prison camp and jail.  The army
sent them back to the front unarmed.  Communication was
destroyed.  There were no supplies, nothing to eat.  When the
Germans attacked we spread out in every direction.

A few of us came to a village near Orell and tried to look like
civilians.  But I was captured by the Germans and taken to a
nearby church with other prisoners-of-war.  We got no food and
carried hay bales for the German horses.  At my first chance, I
escaped into the dark, going down the church steps, turning
toward the side as if I had to go to the bathroom.  Then I
jumped over the stone wall and ran.  I was free from the Germans.

I found a house where two young sisters were willing to hide
me.  I did their chores and they fed me.  Although I managed to
fool seven German soldiers who came that night, I was afraid
the neighbors would report me so I left, trying to walk back to
Ukraine.  I had some frightening adventures on the road,
outwitting Germans as I traveled.  Finally I found a home where
they were willing to let me stay the night.  One man, about 50
years old, was there with his four daughters.  This man made
winter shoes out of sheep's wool, called valenkey.  They came
in real handy but you had to keep them dry.  He demonstrated
for me how he made these.  It was a very smelly job.  He tried
to adopt me.  He said, "Look here, all these girls, pick out
the one you want to marry."  I was not ready to leave so I
didn't say "yes" or "no."  After breakfast I just eased off and
left.  I was free -- from the smelly wool and a wife.

I met a Siberian blacksmith named Zakardonits, a soldier who
had just escaped from his command.  He wanted to walk to
Ukraine with me.  But the Germans had stripped down some of my
winter clothing and given me shoes one size too small.  We were
in danger of death because of the extreme cold winter.  Death
was not my idea of freedom.  We found a secluded village which
needed two blacksmiths so I said I was a blacksmith.  To stay
free from the Germans we stayed with a family who had six
children.  The husband, wife, children, Zakardonits and I, all
slept in one room.  Under the bed was a sheep with a lamb.
Because it was so cold the milk cow was brought inside to be
milked.  We had to keep our plates covered with our hands when
we ate because the cow's tail was wagging all over the kitchen
table.  There was manure everywhere, but we were free -- until
an order came to the village to report people like us.  We were
picked up and taken to Orell as prisoners-of-war.  That was for
the second time.

I will tell you more about that in another letter.

Eugene Halski