A Major Catastrophe

May 1936

We travelled uneventfully across the Polish border into Russia. Villages flanked by military installations of some sort and huts with guards armed with rifles peppered the way. When we arrived at the station in Minsk we had time for a quick rest and a light meal.

We approached the next train that would take us to Moscow with amazement. Its enormous locomotive was resting at the platform, breathing a steady tempo, expelling bursts of steam from its sides and iron chimney. Paps noted, “There are many more cars, Lorechen,” he said pointing to the locomotive, “so the power needed to pull them is much greater.”

We made our way along the train looking for the railcar assigned to us on our tickets. Railway personnel were assisting passengers looking for their appropriate boarding locations. On his own, Paps discovered ours. We found seats at the front of the car. No sooner had we put our baggage down than two Russian soldiers entered through the doorway. They stopped in front of us. Both were dressed impeccably in tailored uniforms but I cannot recall if they were carrying weapons. Just then one of the soldiers said something to Paps.

Father was bewildered. Of course! None of us spoke Russian!

Paps asked him in German if he spoke German. The man replied, “Nyet,” which we obviously gathered to be the Russian word for no. Then Paps asked both of them in French if either spoke French. “Nyet.” Paps made one last effort, this time in English. Both responded, “Nyet.” I felt my insides cramping. I was petrified that we would be escorted off the train, orphaned in the middle of a wilderness, wrestling with the prospect of having to retrace our steps while the train departed without us.

Mutsch stepped toward them. She used two fingers to draw a small square in midair. Then she placed her palms together, then opened them slowly as if they were covers of a book. The soldier’s eyes opened wide. “Dah!”

“They need to see our documents,” she said.

The soldiers checked our papers. Within a few minutes they left us to proceed along the aisle. The three of us watched as they reviewed the papers of a middle-aged couple in the seats next to ours. They’d seen what had transpired with us so they knew to present their documents. The soldiers finished with them, continued down the aisle, and then exited into the next car. We never saw those two soldiers again, not once during our trip between Minsk and Moscow. We never saw them get off the train at any of the stops. We never knew where they stayed while on the train, if they were on it at all. It was a mystery to us.

I was worried that our inability to understand and speak Russian would pose problems along our nine thousand kilometre journey from Moscow to the eastern terminus. The train would make dozens of stops along the way with those soldiers, or others, checking everyone’s papers frequently. “There’ll be interaction with the police. I’m sure of it,” Paps commented.

There was a slight jolt when the locomotive came alive. It slowly started to churn its wheels, strenuously pulling at a snail’s pace until the train reached a leisurely speed, the engine and its long line of railcars clearing the station. We were on our way.

Paps stood up. “I’m going to walk along the aisle. I won’t be gone long,” he said.

Mutsch closed her eyes. I was not sleepy so I opened my rucksack to retrieve my book. I was flipping through it just as father came back. Mutsch opened her eyes. Both of us noticed that Paps had a peculiar look on his face.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Mutsch asked.

He sat down and said in a low tone, “You won’t believe it but of the people with whom I’ve chatted . . . it’s incredible . . . they all speak German!”

Immediately Mutsch and I perked our ears as if we were hunting dogs. Up until that point the bellowing locomotive had rendered all conversations into unintelligible rumblings and undertones that we assumed were spoken in Russian. With the police expected to patrol the train frequently we thought everyone was whispering so they would not draw attention to themselves. Now with careful scrutiny we heard the distinctive sounds of our native tongue! What a fortuitous circumstance!

I asked Paps, “Do you know if any of them speak Russian?”

“No, I don’t, Lorechen,” he said. “A man told me there’ll be a meeting in the club car for passengers occupying the first three railcars within the hour.”

Anxious still, I asked, “Will this make it easier for us to get by without understanding Russian?”

“Let’s not worry, Lorechen. Not everyone on this train speaks German and certainly not everyone speaks Russian. Perhaps we’ll be fortunate enough to meet people who speak both languages.”

When we entered the club car an hour later there were people all about. I heard music in the air! Everyone was speaking German! It was extraordinary! As we walked down the aisle father conversed with many of the passengers—it was as if he knew everyone but of course he did not. I’m sure all of the travellers were relieved to be able to understand one another.

We learned that some passengers were running from the Nazis just as we were. But I also recall two couples seated together, dressed in magnificent clothing, wearing what surely was couture. They could have been German aristocracy. As we passed by, they bragged in stilted authoritarian tones that they were on their way to the Orient to vacation for a few months. Others were not as favoured. There were some who were obviously tired and beleaguered, most likely from prolonged travel. Those with temporary visas hoped to reach their destination before their expiration condemned them to alien status.

A thin woman in her late twenties entered the car. Quietude descended upon everyone. She was wearing a police uniform. Her brown hair was straight as nails, her shoulders perfectly level, unmistakably perpendicular to her tall linear frame. She was very attractive.

“Good afternoon. My name is Katya. Is there anyone who does not understand me?” she asked in less-than-perfect German. “Raise your hand.” No one did. She continued. “Very good. I’m your tour guide and travel companion.²⁰ Feel free to consult with me when you need information or if you have problems or concerns. Now I need to remind you of procedures.” Her voice suddenly changed from warm and compassionate to frigid indifference. “You may not leave this train without me nor wander off by yourselves at the stops we will make. Carry your travel documents and identification papers on your person at all times. Never let your valuables out of your sight.” Then she smiled. “We’ll become friends. When we arrive in Moscow you will detrain. Those continuing on will find assistance locating connections. Passengers ticketed for the Trans-Siberian Railway have an approximate ten-hour wait until its departure. For those passengers, during that time I’ll provide you occasions to become familiar with the train and your compartment, give you an opportunity to freshen up and escort you to supper. After your meal, you will retire for the evening. Tomorrow, I’ll take you on a sightseeing tour lasting perhaps an hour or two. I’m here to make your time with us as pleasant and comfortable as possible. I’m available at all times to answer questions and help in any way. Consider me not as an official but as your companion. I promise to do my best to continue to speak German though I’m sure I will need your help with vocabulary and pronunciation.”

I whispered to Mutsch, “Doesn’t she look like Gerta?”

She didn’t answer me.

Katya then said, “You’re free now to return to your railcar or,” raising her arm and pointing to the windows, “remain here to view the scenery. Avail me any time. Thank you for your attention.” She left the car.

For the next few minutes no one said anything. Then everyone seemed to rise at once to leave. Paps turned to Mutsch. “Something’s not right here,” he said with concern in his voice. “We must figure out what it is.”

I had many questions for Katya. What were those buildings with armed soldiers as sentries I saw dotting the countryside? When will we get to Moscow? Is that going to be the only stop where we’ll be able to leave the station and venture out?

Mutsch knew what I was thinking. “You’ll wait for an appropriate time to pose your questions to Katya and only when one of us is with you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, mother.”

We made our way back to our coach. As the train rumbled on I daydreamed about our arrival in Moscow and Katya’s promise of sightseeing in the fresh air. I was anticipating the variation in our routine that had been rather monotonous up until this point.

For a while we read, played word games, and watched the scenery as it flashed by. We passed more villages and military installations. We saw lush farmland worked mostly by women wearing babushkas and long skirts, their sad-looking donkeys milling about nearby. At crossings, people waved to us. What were they thinking? Did they wish they could join us?

By now Paps had established acquaintances with several of the passengers. His charismatic personality and outgoing manner made it easy for him to strike up conversations with strangers.

I closed my eyes for a moment and the next thing I knew Mutsch was waking me up.

“We’re in Moscow, Lorechen. Get your things ready.”

When the train stopped everyone scurried to gather their baggage. We were the last people off. On the platform we saw Katya waving her arm. Thirty passengers huddled around her. Railway personnel escorted us to her.

She spoke loudly, her voice carrying above the din of the station, “The Trans-Siberian connection is on track three. I’ll take you there right away. Before we board, you will ready your documents and tickets. They will be reviewed. We allow you one hour to enter your compartment, stow your things, and freshen up. Then we’ll proceed to the dining car. After supper you will return to your compartments and retire for the evening. At eight o’clock tomorrow morning we’ll meet on the platform for our sightseeing tour. When we return there’ll be a short wait. Then the train will continue on through the city of Moscow, making several stops before arriving at its final station in the city’s environs. It will depart from there for all points east.” She surveyed the group waiting to see if anyone had any questions. “Very well then. We proceed to the train.”

The Russian police evaluated our documents then we entered our compartment. The coach was brand new, the interior luxurious. In the main room, there were royal blue upholstered daybeds and mahogany panelled walls. Everything was polished and spotlessly clean. Our quarters even had a separate room for my parents and a smaller room for me with a lavatory in between. Indeed, the accommodations were deluxe! Mutsch and I put away what little clothing we had in a beautiful credenza below the window in the main room of our compartment.

Paps looked at his watch. “It’s time. We should go to supper.”

In the dining car, waiters in tuxedos stood ready to serve us. We introduced ourselves to the other passengers as we walked by their tables. I noticed that the conversational music made by the other passengers was different this time. Not only did I hear German but also French and English. I recognized Italian and then guessed that the lilting guttural utterances emanating from one table was Czech. What we gathered from the bits and pieces of conversations we heard was that many of the passengers were refugees, as we were, bands of harried transients distancing themselves from the spread of the Nazi web in Europe.

After we sat down I said, “I’m disappointed there are no other children my age. I can’t be the only child on this train.”

Paps said, “Don’t worry, Lorechen, there’ll be so many interesting sights! You won’t be bored. Just wait until we get to Lake Baikal!” I wanted to know about it right away but Paps had only heard about it so I would have to wait.

We ate a delicious meal. They served enormous portions. Mutsch, who had gained some weight during her convalescence, had a difficult time making healthy choices from the train’s menu. Since leaving Italy she’d been trying to monitor closely what she ate. She found what she thought would be a good diet choice: caviar! She would eat her way across Russia and Siberia on that comestible alone! Within a day or two the waiters remembered her fondness for it and, no matter what Paps and I ordered, a large bowl of the pickled sturgeon eggs would be placed at her setting.

During our meals, Paps would often eavesdrop on conversations at nearby tables. Mutsch and I would be gabbing and he would appear to be listening but his eyes would shift from left to right and up and down as if exercising them that way would make it easier for him to hear.

At dinner the next evening, Paps leaned toward us. “I understand there are increased tensions between Hitler and Stalin,” he said softly. “Matters of ideology, a likely point of conflict between the two men, will surely lead to a serious and prolonged confrontation.²¹ It sounds as if Spain will be the next battlefield of wills. Can war in Europe be far behind?”²²

Mutsch spooned a dollop of caviar onto a cracker. “I’m sure of it, too,” she said. “No wonder everyone in the club car spoke German.”

“What do you mean?” I blurted out.

“Lower your voice, Lorechen,” she said. “Don’t you see? We Germans are being watched.”

“Because we’re Jews?” I wondered aloud.

Paps snapped at me. “Don’t dare say that for all to hear!” he whispered harshly. “We’re travelling as Germans on this train not as Jews! This is a first-class passage. It’s assumed that we are business people, intellectuals, or perhaps doctors or lawyers.”

“Remember those two couples in the club car on the previous train?” Mutsch asked. “Their elegant clothing? Their sparkling jewellery? They are well-to-do, very important people. They’re being watched. We all are. Every German on this train is being watched because we’re seen as capitalists, as potential threats to the Russian proletariat. We’re being kept together.”

“You’re right,” Paps nodded. “Now,” he said to me, “finish your dessert because we’ll return to our compartment and then your mother and I need to discuss our strategy for whatever confrontations may be in store.”

On the way back to our rooms I made a silent vow that in the future I would think before speaking. I was terrified that I might be the cause of some trouble that would endanger my parents and me.

When we returned to our railcar a porter was leaving our compartment, holding our towels from the lavatory. He spoke to Paps in French. “Sir, for the entirety of your trip the windows will be washed at every stop. At night, the tables will be tucked away and your bedclothes turned down. Linens and,” he directed our attention to the towels draped over his arm, “lavatory cloths will be exchanged daily as well.”

Paps thanked him. Then the porter moved on to the next compartment. Mutsch and I went inside while Paps stepped onto the platform to enjoy a cigar. I asked Mutsch, “Won’t this be a wonderful trip, mother?”

“Yes, dear,” she said, “it’ll be fascinating to see Moscow in the morning. I’m sure we’ll have a splendid time. Now it’s off to bed, we have to be up early. Sleep well, darling.”

I kissed her twice, saying, “One is for you, the other is for Paps when he returns.”

In the lavatory I washed my face and hands. I thought about how much fun we’d have the following day. While drying my face, I stared into the mirror. I looked drawn and tired. “Well,” I whispered to myself, “everyone in Russia has been so nice. I only wish Gerta and some of my family and friends were here to share this with me.”

Once in my room, I settled into bed—it was so comfortable! I began thinking about Katya showing us Moscow tomorrow, seeing things I’d only read about in books. I closed my eyes and entered into a blissful slumber.

A jarring motion stirred me from my sleep and I got out of bed to see if my parents were awake. Paps was finishing dressing. “Good morning, Lorechen. Did you sleep well? Mother is in the lavatory and will be ready shortly. You should get ready. We’ll go for breakfast and then meet Katya for our tour.”

I felt another jolt and then a slight movement of the railcar. “What is that?” I asked.

Paps said, “The train is being shunted from its place here to a better position for fuelling and the loading of supplies for the long journey.”

When we entered the dining car it was nearly empty. Paps said, “It looks like many of the passengers prefer to sleep than to sightsee. Maybe with a smaller group Katya will be able to show us more things.”

For breakfast we were served crusty black bread, thick raspberry jam, eggs, a bowl of caviar for Mutsch, fresh fruit, and steaming tea served in a richly decorated silver samovar.

Suddenly, father stood up. “I need to return to our compartment. Finish your meals. I’ll be back in a moment.”

I looked at Mutsch. “Is something wrong?”

“No, dear,” she said, helping herself to another cracker and lathering it with caviar. “Perhaps he prefers, you know, to use our own lavatory.”

We finished eating and then waited for what seemed like an eternity for Paps to return.

“Why is Paps taking so long?” I complained.

A fog of worry settled in the air. Mutsch stared down the aisle in the direction father had left. She glanced at me, then returned her gaze to the aisle. Just then Paps appeared in the doorway, his face frozen with fear. “What’s wrong?” Mutsch asked, wringing her hands.

He threw up his arms and yelped, “I can’t find my wallet! We have no money, no papers, no documents!”

This was a crushing blow. Paps and Mutsch were now among those passengers who were worried about their temporary visas expiring but in our case we had no documents at all. Suddenly we were foreigners in the most frightful sense, literally lost inside Russia.

“It must be in your jacket,” Mutsch sputtered. “Lorechen, where’s your pouch?”

I felt my neck. No lanyard. “It’s in my room, Mutsch.”

Paps patted his pockets, then rifled through them. “We must ask for help,” he said. Then he called out, “Waiter! Waiter!”

The maître d’ came to our table.

“May I be of assistance?” the elderly man asked in German.

Father explained the nature of our distress. At once, the man summoned three other staff members. The four of them began scouring the dining car, scanning the aisle, looking under tables and chairs, fluffing tablecloths, checking in plant pots, and pulling away curtains to examine windowsills. Paps and Mutsch rummaged the area surrounding our table and would do so a dozen times over the next five minutes. I stood paralyzed. I knew we couldn’t travel without documents. Not knowing what to do, I took three slices of bread from the serving tray, crammed two of them into my pocket and then began nervously eating the other.

Suddenly Paps and Mutsch interrupted their foraging. They were staring at me in disbelief. “Lorechen!” my father yelled, “What on earth are you doing? Don’t stand there and eat! Help us find my wallet!”

I stuffed another piece of bread in my mouth and dropped to my knees, crawling about underneath the tables in search of Paps’ wallet.

After about twenty minutes the maître d’ returned. “I’m sorry, Sir, there’s been no wallet found. Be assured my staff and I will continue to look for it.”

We rushed back to our compartment. Paps said, “Lorechen, you search the lavatory from top to bottom. Mutsch will look for your pouch in your room and I’ll begin here,” he said pointing to their room. After a few minutes of searching I saw Paps looking through his pockets again and I heard Mutsch raking drawers.

As I was turning the lavatory upside down I heard a knock at our door. Father opened it. It was Katya and three railway personnel. Evidently the news of Paps’ missing wallet had spread.

She pushed passed Paps into our compartment. “We’re here to help,” she said. Then, turning to the railway personnel, she barked orders in Russian. Immediately they began stripping the beds, turning over the cushions, looking in every corner, under the tables and bed frames, even lifting the mattresses. They checked the windowsills and behind the curtains. Mutsch was scouring through our valises and my rucksack.

It was obvious. Paps’ wallet and my pouch had vanished. And with them our identification documents, tickets, Japanese visas, and money.

After about an hour, Katya addressed the railway personnel. She must have told them to stop because they bustled to the door and left.

Mutsch panicked. I started to cry when I saw the fear on her face. She began to sob uncontrollably. “What’ll happen to us without identification and without money? What will we do?”

Katya was quick to comfort us. “We’ve done what we can for now. We’ll continue with our original plans. We’ll go on our sightseeing tour. I’ll take full responsibility for you. While we are on our tour all available staff members will persist in searching for your missing items. When we return, if they haven’t been found, I’ll make arrangements to replace your documents and tickets. I’m sorry to say I’m not sure what I can do regarding the replacement of your money.”

Even though we didn’t find the wallet or my pouch I thought things would be all right since Katya had promised to help. I was still looking forward to seeing Moscow but I could tell my parents were in no mood to go sightseeing.

Katya sensed that we needed some time as a family. “I see you need to discuss your preferences. I’ll wait outside on the platform. When you have decided what it is you would like to do then come out and let me know.” She closed the door behind her.

Paps said, “I’m doubtful that Katya will be able to help much more than she already has.” Then he lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “We won’t be able get new passports from the German embassy since we’re not who we say we are. We’re trapped. We can’t travel through Russia without papers and it is unlikely Katya can vouch for us the entire way. But worst of all, we’ve lost the visas that Herr Griesbach procured for us through the Japanese embassy in London.” My father shook his head. “Because of carelessness, our situation is beyond remedy.”