Chapter 8

The community has seen to it that hot tea, bread, and milk for the children is served to the deported right at the station. A most timely measure! Many of them had had no time even to take food along; they were deported on short notice, and, besides, a family is allowed to carry no more than forty pounds of luggage. What is forty pounds for a family often very large? They can hardly afford to take some underwear and warm clothes.... Behind each family there remained a home, probably a store, a stand, a workshop or simply a sewing-machine, the sole source of income.... All are equal now in this dreadful train, which carries them away from home, naked wrecks of humanity, torn from their customary course of life and deprived of the daily toil, which fed the family. And what a terror it is to look into their eyes. It is plainly written in them: "This is nothing, the worst is still to come."

They sat down on the benches in the waiting room, and started drinking tea, and eating.

"Well, you are feeding your spies, eh?" suddenly remarks a porter, addressing a representative of the Jewish community. The latter grows pale, shivers, and quickly moves away. What, indeed, could one answer? How does this great migration of a people impress an unsophisticated brain? If the entire population leaves a district the matter is clear; the place must be evacuated before the enemy. But the trains loaded with Jews do not come from districts already occupied by the foe. How else can a plain man construe this fact than that the Jews are spies, dangerous people, in short, our internal enemy? And so this one-year-old baby whose puffed-up, tiny hand hangs down from its mother's shoulder is also an enemy, just as is this sad girl wearily skulking in a corner, and this old man with his shaking head and wrinkled hands,--all these are our enemies, otherwise why should they have been deported before the arrival of the foe? Why such a peculiar selection of the passengers of the dreadful trains? I go from one porter to another, asking them who was brought on. The answer is the same: "Jews, spies...." The very arrival of such a train engenders an ill feeling toward the entire Jewish nation,--and how many such trains have arrived here lately! And if you were to stop and ask who established the guilt of these people, and whether it is thinkable that all these tens of thousands of men, women, and children should have been caught red-handed, no one will stop to listen to you. A Jew is a spy,--this is the only impression that becomes indelibly branded in the brains of the Russian population which witnesses the new tragedy of the Jewish nation. The effect of the passage of these trains is truly terrible, it is a series of systematic object-lessons of hatred....

When the crowd has quenched its hunger and thirst, a new problem presents itself: how to transport all this mass to the town and give them shelter. For this purpose a number of carriages are kept in readiness. The coachmen, all of them Jews, load the miserable luggage and try to accommodate the old, the sick, and the children. Now and then a bearded, husky driver would wipe away a tear; to one side, Jewish women weep frankly. The sorrowful procession sets out for the town. There the refugees will once more have to meet the Russians and endure questionings, insulting remarks and slaps in the face.... Will the Jewish nation stand all this?

Yes, it will undoubtedly stand this frightful trial. There is something in its inner nature that enables it to hold out under the most terrible conditions.

At the house of a representative of the Jewish community, I find several people who handle the transportation and distribution of the deported Jews.

"How many people have passed through your hands?"

"Several thousand. We get word by telegraph from the centres of deportation as to how many people we should keep and how many send further."

"Where do you get the means necessary for these operations?"

"The entire Jewish population of our town has imposed upon itself a systematic refugee tax. This source furnishes us 3,000 rubles monthly. Of course this is very little, ours is a poor town. Then we get financial aid from the Jewish communities, which do not have to help the deported directly. We have received several thousand rubles from Smolensk, Petrograd, Moscow, and elsewhere."

"And how about the Russian population, does it render you any assistance?"

"No, its attitude toward the deported is at best indifferent, and at worst hostile."

"And the Jews, do they not protest against this new tax?"

"Oh, no, not in the least. You have no idea to what an extent the feeling of solidarity grows among us in such cases. Here is an instance. A train with the deported arrived here yesterday. It was Saturday. That is, as you know, a sacred day for the Jews. Nevertheless, all our Jewish coachmen came to the station to take the newcomers to the town. We have asked them to come to-day to get paid for their services. Not one of them appeared. And so it has been all along. There is not a Jewish coachman in the town who would take money in such a case. On the contrary, they would be insulted if they were not asked to do their bit. When the first train arrived, the present self-taxation was not yet in existence. We received the telegram suddenly. Nothing was in readiness. Our young people got busy and started canvassing the Jewish houses. And at once people brought all they could: tea, sugar, eggs, milk. We met the hungry ones with full hands. No, we cannot complain against the Jews; they do all they can, even the poorest."

The representative shows me a heap of telegrams. Their contents are brief: "To Rabbi so-and-so. Meet 900; meet 1000; meet 1100." Only the numbers differ....

"And where do you house those who remain here?"

"Well, we accommodate them in the Jewish school, in private homes, in rooms hired for the purpose. But here we met with a new obstacle. Our town is situated on the left bank of the river Dnyepr. Now a new order was issued to the effect that the deported should settle exclusively on the left bank. We had trouble enough, I warrant you. Fortunately, the local authorities have shown us some consideration and postponed the second deportation.... But to entrain worn-out people and send them anew into the unknown,--it is painful even to imagine it. Think of it: to grow accustomed to the place, to the people who take care of you,--and then again a train, a flashing of a station, and the final outrage of the arrival. Many say: 'Better to die than to resume our road again.'

"But we are forced to send them further, although nowadays it is hard to place the deported; all the towns are crowded, the congestion leads to diseases. Here, too, we have had several deaths...."

"Tell me," I said finally, "but you know, at least approximately, why these people are deported? It is impossible that this should be done for no earthly reason, simply because they happen to be Jews...."

How great was my repentance that I put this naïve question! I shall never, never forget the eyes which turned on me. There was in them a burning pain and another question: "Yes, for what crime? If we only knew it.... Perhaps, you will tell us? You are a Russian, you are in a better position to know...."

I got up quickly, shook hands, and left in silence, with a feeling of repulsion for myself and shame for my helplessness....

* * * * *

THE HOMELESS ONES

_Sergey Yakovlevich Yelpatyevsky is a popular writer of realistic, and humanitarian tales and sketches. In his youth he was exiled to Siberia, and in 1910 he was imprisoned. He was born in 1854._

THE HOMELESS ONES

BY S. YELPATYEVSKY

I

A party of Jews was brought to the province of Tavrida. Officially they are called "the deported"; the newspapers refer to them as "the homeless ones." At first came three thousand Jews from the province of Kovno. They were followed by Kurland Jews, and now about seven thousand Jews have been settled in the government of Tavrida. Other parties are expected....

They had wandered a long time before they reached their new place of residence. Obviously, the authorities who handled the deportation thought only of how to get rid of the Jews, and those on whom the newcomers were thrust had not been informed in time and did not know how to arrange to take care of them.

The first party, three thousand strong, stayed a while at Melitopol, then they were transported to Simferopol where they remained five days, and were finally distributed over the towns and townlets of northern Crimea.

It is told that one of the parties was assigned to Yekaterinoslav, but the authorities refused to accept the people and ordered them to proceed further. The local papers report that a group of deported Jews was transported from Pavlograd to Jankoy, then, according to an instruction from the Ministry of the Interior they were shipped to Voronezh....

There are many old men and women, many girls and mothers, and a large number of children in the party which has been brought here. All of them are miserable and exhausted, a number are ill, either because they had been sick when the catastrophe overtook them or because they fell ill on the way, and there are many pregnant women among them. As a result of their long wanderings, wives have lost their husbands and mothers their children and they eagerly question everybody about those dear to them.

Little has been written in the newspapers about the Jews deported from the zone of military activities, and so far little has been heard of either the state or the social organisations coming to the assistance of these "war sufferers," who feel the burden of war even more heavily than those who fled from the war-stricken districts on their own account. There was a vague statement that the Pirogov Society is aiding the Jews deported to the Government of Poltava and that meagre sums were contributed by the Union of Towns and the Ministry of the Interior,--that is all the newspapers have so far reported.

The burden of taking care of the newcomers fell entirely on the local Jewish communities. It was a heavy burden, for there are no more than about twenty thousand Jewish families in the entire government of Tavrida. These twenty thousand families had to take care and to support seven thousand homeless people, mostly small tradesmen and peddlers who had had no time to liquidate their businesses and who could not take along any property, for bedding was the only thing they were allowed to carry.

They had to find housing facilities in all haste, to organise transportation and medical aid, and to solve the food and employment problems. An attempt was made to utilise the deported in agriculture, in which labour is nowadays exceedingly scarce in Crimea. But the old people and the children are not fit for agricultural work and it would take too long to train the able-bodied women. On the other hand, the largest and more prosperous Crimean towns, such as Simferopol and Sebastopol, Yalta, Yevpatoria, and Theodosia, where the deported Jews could easily find employment, are closed to the newcomers. Only the smaller and poorer towns and townlets where even the local Jews can scarcely get employment, are put at the disposal of the newcomers as their places of residence. There was even a project to settle a portion of these people in the city of Perekop. This town counts only one Jewish family among its population. It consists of a prison and several deserted shanties, and reminds one of that legendary Siberian town, which was made up of a single pillar erected as an indication of the site where the city was supposed to stand.

The local Jewish communities spend about fifty thousand rubles monthly on feeding the deported. This sum does not include the expenses of transportation and housing. The local communities applied to the Petrograd Committee, but it took upon itself only fifteen thousand rubles. The remaining thirty-five thousand are contributed by the Jews, who have also to support their specific cultural institutions as well as municipal institutions of a general character.

The representatives of the Simferopol Jewish community applied to the Governor of Tavrida for financial help. I do not know whether they were successful. Meanwhile, other parties of deported Jews are expected here, and how the Jews will be able to handle them, is more than I can tell.

The War has ruined many homes and made many men, women, and children homeless. But it would hardly be an exaggeration to say that fate has been most ruthless to these deported Jews. The so-called "refugees," after all, acted freely; they brought with them, if not what they wanted at least what they had time, what they were able to take; they could go wherever there was work. The refugees were everywhere welcomed and helped by both the authorities and the public organisations. Special days for the soliciting of donations were appointed and large sums collected. Wherever they went people tried to alleviate their sufferings. But the deportation of the Jews took place as if on the sly, without attracting any one's attention, without engaging the sympathies of the people at large to the degree which might be expected.

The deported proved a heavy burden not only for the Jewish but also for the Gentile population of the humble villages of the government of Tavrida, which were flooded by the newcomers. The prices of food, and the rent soared up, and competition among tradesmen and small merchants grew more ruthless,--in a word, life here became much harder than the War alone would have made it.

II

As one observes these throngs of old men, children and pregnant women who are deported and tossed from one end of the country to the other, simply because they are Jews, one wonders to whom it brings profit or happiness. It is clear that it does no one any good and no one finds this wholesale deportation either just or necessary.

"In discussing the deportation of Jews the Minister of the Interior pointed out that this measure was not justified by the actual behaviour of the Jewish population, which is in general loyal to the country and cannot bear responsibility for the actions of criminal individuals, of whom unfortunately no nationality is free" (_Yuzhnyia Vyedomosti_, No 10). The same communication contains the following statements: "It was asserted that the wholesale accusation of the Jews as traitors is wholly groundless.... In view of this the council of Ministers, by an overwhelming majority, decided to make intercession to put an end to the deportation of the Jews."

Whether the Council of Ministers has interceded and whether its efforts were crowned with success,--I know not. The papers published several orders whereby separate groups of deported Jews were permitted to return to their former places of residence,--for instance, the deported Galician Jews were allowed to return to Galicia,--but there was no general rescript which would put an end to the deportation....

The wholesale deportation of the Jews caused a great perplexity among the population of Crimea. Even people who are not over-sensitive to problems of truth and justice and whose sympathies are far from being broad, show signs of being stirred up. Suppose the Council of Ministers is mistaken, they say, and the presence of the Jews in the governments of Kovno and Kurland is really a danger for the State, but then do not Germans live in those provinces, in even larger numbers than Jews? Time and again we read in the newspapers of the friendly reception of the German armies by the German population of Kurland. There were also registered cases where penalties were imposed on individual persons who either showed too great an enthusiasm for the German troops or rendered them material services. Nevertheless, nothing was heard about the German population of the Government of Kurland being deported in a wholesale manner,--at least, not a single train with Kurland Germans has reached Crimea.

On the other hand,--so thinking people keep on arguing,--if the Jews have proved to be more German than the Germans themselves, and the Teutonic population of Kurland act like loyal Russian subjects, why then liquidate the land owned by the Crimean Germans, who have been living in Crimea for more than a century, who have never shown any disloyalty to Russia, who, furthermore, are separated from the German frontier by thousands of versts and who are, therefore, by no means able to inform the Germans from Germany about the movement of our troops in the provinces of Kurland and Kovno.

And once more rises the question: "In whose interests is all this done?"

The matter has also another aspect. How many Jews were deported--tens or hundreds of thousands--no one knows exactly; but seeing the large masses which are being shifted from place to place, people wonder how many cars were necessary to transport all these throngs. And then it occurs to them that all these trains could bring in enormous cargoes of coal, sugar, kerosene and other wares which are so badly needed here, and carry away grain and fruit, which are needed elsewhere, thus making life more livable in many corners of our vast country.

And people who have the enviable capacity of not losing their equanimity under any circumstances, remark that in this fashion the Jewish problem is being settled and the Pale of Settlement removed.

"Here already the provinces of Voronezh and Penza are opened to Jews.... Little by little all of Russia will be opened up...."

* * * * *

THE JEW

_Mikail Petrovich Artzibashef, the author of Sanine was born in the year 1878 in Southern Russia. He is widely read both in his own country and outside of its borders. In 1905 he took part in the revolutionary movement, and was indicted, but escaped punishment because of the temporary success of the popular movement at the end of that year._

THE JEW

(A STORY)

BY M. ARTZIBASHEF

It so happened that the second platoon of the third squad of the Ashkadar regiment found itself completely cut off from the main body of the army, and this without the loss of a single cartridge or soldier.

How this came about, and why a group of men, fifteen or twenty strong, had suddenly become an independent fighting unit, none of them could tell.

At the outset, the entire Ashkadar regiment zealously trudged throughout the long autumn night along an interminable road, leading no one knew where, into the dark, damp, and hostile distance. To smoke or to converse was forbidden. In the dark, the black mass of the regiment, bristling with its bayonets like some huge, porcupine-like creature, crawled steadily onward, filling the air with the shuffling of innumerable feet. The men kept stumbling over each other, and swore viciously in half tones; they slipped in the mud and sank knee-deep into the wheel-tracks filled with cold water. "Some road!" they sighed quietly.

At dawn the regiment was brought to a halt and was stretched along the edge of a wide potato field, which the soldiers had never seen before. It was drizzling with sickening persistence, and the dark-blue distances, mildly sloping and mournful, were blurred in the haze of the rain. On both sides, as far as eye could reach, ranks of grey officers and soldiers were wretchedly soaking in the rain. Water was dripping from their sullen faces and it looked as though they were all weeping over their fate--the fate which had cast them upon this strange, unknown, God-forsaken field. In a few hours many of them will perhaps be lying dead amidst the half-rotted potato stems on the wet soil with their pallid faces upturned to the cold heavens, the very ones which now weep also over their dear, distant country.

Behind, a battery crew was vainly attempting to set the cannon which were sinking into the soaked plough-land. One could hear the hoarse angry voices, the cracking of whips, and the heavy, strained snorting of horses. In front of them lone officers wandered in drenched cloaks in the rain; still farther behind the curtain of rain and the thick fog there rumbled cannons and it was impossible to tell whether they belonged to the enemy or not. At times the shooting seemed to come from afar-off on the right. Then the rumble of the guns was deep and muffled like the sound of heavy iron balls rolling over the ground; at other times, the discharges were quite near and rent the air with a crash, bursting over the men's very heads, as it were.

The commander of the squad stood right in front of his men and kept lighting cigarettes shielding them with the skirts of his cloak. He did it so often that it seemed as if he had been vainly attempting to light the same cigarette for the last three hours. The soldiers were attentively looking at his back and were all morbidly anxious to help him. It was cold and damp, and they felt an incessant, nauseating gnawing in the pit of the stomach. It was not fear but an indefinite anguish, a sort of _the-sooner-over-the-better_ feeling.

Several hours passed in this manner, but towards noon it all changed abruptly. Though the sky was still as grey as before and it drizzled continuously, it grew lighter, the clouds in one spot became white and shining and one felt that the sun was somewhere behind them. But amidst this cold white light a disquieting feeling pervaded the atmosphere and the gnawing anxiety was turning into unbearable agony. Suddenly, an aide-de-camp dashed past on a horse, covered with froth and fuzzy with dampness. Officers began to scurry back and forth; sharp commands were heard; and the bugles resounded.

"Well, comrades!" ... said some one in the ranks in a high, false tone of voice. Every one heard this exclamation and understood it, but no one turned around to see where it came from. The grey mass of people suddenly stirred, gave a sigh, surged like the sea whipped by a gale, and, sinking at each step into the mud, the entire regiment rolled forward, over the expanse of the shoreless fields which now suddenly looked strange and dreadful. The soldiers, their faces haggard and queer, were crossing themselves as they ran. They marched in disorder, and when they were stopped on the hill-crest, they turned the regiment into a confused mob of breathless and perplexed men. Some even forgot to lower their rifles.

Before them the hazy network of rain was still hanging and the distances stretched, strange and hostile. But now the fields were astir with flickering pale flames and a ceaseless scattered cracking of guns. In the grey sky a small black dot was discernible, seemingly motionless, but changing in size. When it grew larger, a faint buzzing was heard from above and made the soldiers turn their grey, ghastly faces upward.... Then a mighty buzzing suddenly resounded behind the regiment, and a Russian aeroplane flew over the heads of the men like a drenched bird. As the aeroplane rose higher and higher, the soldiers watched the distance between it and the small black dot far up in the sky grow smaller and smaller.

Voices were now heard from the ranks and when the black dot was rapidly beginning to grow smaller, sinking, as it were, in the sky and approaching the horizon, those voices became loud and gay.

"He don't like it, what! See him run for his life! Well done! Fine fellows!" ... was heard along the ranks.

The soldiers suddenly became lively and for a moment forgot about themselves and the uncertain fate that was in store for them.

"Why not put you on that aeroplane, Yermilich!... You'd be quite handy at it, wouldn't you!" the soldiers were poking fun at each other.