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Тема: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kbg_dnepr пишет:

Колись від прабабці чув, що у роду мого прадіда-поляка, були німці. Але ні документів, ні прізвищ, ні точних підтверджень немає (

Так найточніше підтвердження - ДНК-тест. На рівні 5-6 коліна (батьки або діди прадіда) повинно б піддаватися виявленню. А німців вже протестовано чимало.

У меня ситуация обратная, так как ДНК-тесты есть, даже из двух лабораторий: FTDNA и 23andMe, генетические совпаденцы на уровне шестиюродных братьев и сестер (3rd-5th Cousins), предки которых были немецкими колонистами из Волыни и Польши, тоже имеются, а вот документов у меня, это родство подтверждающее никаких нет. А все только потому, что против немцев на Волыни были репрессии, и моей бабушке и ее родителям, если они были к этому моменту живы, пришлось делать поддельные документы, чтобы скрыть свое немецкое происхождение. А не будь этих генетических тестов, то я бы никогда и не узнал бы, что моя бабушка была никакой не украинкой, а немкой. И спрашивается, как мне теперь распутать этот клубок, если на мою бабушку нет оригинальных документов? Умерла она рано в возрасте 45 лет в 1953 году и никого из ее родственников я не знал.

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, iromko2

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Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kijko Если сможете, ответьте, пожалуйста, на три вопроса: 1. Откуда Вам известно, что предки были немцами и они подделывали документы? 2. Вам нужно доказать, что бабушка была немкой или неукраинкой? 3. В какой стране Вы живёте?

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Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Ярематойсамий пишет:

kijko Если сможете, ответьте, пожалуйста, на три вопроса: 1. Откуда Вам известно, что предки были немцами и они подделывали документы? 2. Вам нужно доказать, что бабушка была немкой или неукраинкой? 3. В какой стране Вы живёте?

Для меня принципиально важно разобраться в той трагедии, которая произошла с моей бабушкой и ее родителями, поскольку это история моей семьи и моего рода. И по большому счету я здесь никому ничего не должен доказывать, это мое личное дело и мое собственное расследование. Я всего лишь не терплю вранья и темных пятен в истории моих предков. И как Вам понравиться уличить свою мать во лжи, когда ее уже нет в живых, когда невозможно посмотреть ей в глаза и выяснить, чем была вызвана эта ложь? Могила бабушки оказалась заброшенной, поскольку ни мой дедушка, ни моя мама за ней не смотрели, да так что место захоронения уже обнаружить на кладбище невозможно. Зачем смотреть за могилой врага? Со слов соседки по дому в Полтаве, она помнит меня хорошо с тех пор, как я приезжал вместе с мамой на лето к дедушке, стало известно, что, оказывается, маминых старших сестер в Германию никто не угонял, они ушли сами с немецкими войсками. В то время, как соседи во время немецкой оккупации жили голодно, у моей бабушки всегда были продукты, так как их ей приносили немецкие офицеры.
У моего отца тоже сдан ДНК-тест в той же самой лаборатории, что и у меня, так вот у него никаких немцев на уровне шестиюродного родства (3rd-5th Cousins) среди его генетических совпаденцев нет И получается, что искать немцев среди его родителей не нужно, так как они могут быть только среди родителей моей мамы. А такой уровень родства как 3rd-5th Cousins предполагает, что общий предок жил в 1780-1820 годах, уже есть такие прецеденты, когда  такое родство документировано доказано. А у меня таких совпаденцев целых 8 человек и никаких русских или украинских корней у них нет. И понятно, что не надо искать немцев среди предков моего дедушки Мусия, так как с его происхождением все ясно, все совпадает с его партийными и военными документами. А то, что он пытался скрыть, что его предки были казаками, это как бы особого значения и не имеет.  И вот по методу исключения остается только моя бабушка Ксения, у которой с документами не все было в порядке, Диканьский район Полтавской области указан, а вот населенного пункта никакого нет. Да и само имя Ксения как-то не прижилось, так как звали ее несколько иначе.

Спасибо сказали: Ярематойсамий, kbg_dnepr, gennadii5408, iromko4

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4

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kijko Всё же я не понял, с чего всё началось? Как Вы узнали о немецких корнях бабушки? Ведь немецкие офицеры приносили продукты и моей матери и дядьке. Молодой унтер иногда последним делился, потому что у него в Германии тоже "цвай кляйне киндер" осталось. И словаки их кормили и на машине катали. Но из этого нельзя никаких генетических выводов делать. Обыкновенная человечность. А немецкие гены могут у многих из нас присутствовать по причинам иного рода.

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Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Наш пан Ярема - ярый противник ДНК-тестов, а вот я их очень люблю и давно пропагандирую. Правда, пропагандировала я до недавнего времени 23эндМи sad Но я не об этом.

У меня тоже ОЧЕНЬ много совпаденцев среди немцев на уровне 4-6-юродных (на 23эндМи их называют 3rd to 5th cousin). Я склонна думать, что это значительно более дальнее родство, чем 6-юродное, но я и не об этом тоже.

Когда я сделала тест себе 6 лет назад, то думала, что все они идут по линии моего отца-белоруса (типа географически ближе), но потом протестировала маму-волжанку - и все они оказались по ее линии. Мамина чисто крестьянская родословная известна мне до 6-9 колена, никаких немцев там нет и в семье об этом ничего не известно.

Конечно, никогда нельзя исключать то, что сейчас прилично называется NPE (Non-Paternal Event) и что англичане сроду описывали как mother's baby, fathers maybe (перевод латинского принципа "мать достоверна, отец недостоверен"). И дело не только в женской неверности - женщина могла быть изнасилована (это хорошо показано в фильме "Жила-была одна баба"), крестьянка могла быть вынуждена стать наложницей владельца - в общем, ситуации могли быть самые разнообразные.

Но я склонна думать, что все это было (если было)  не позднее середины Х1Х в., т.е. не ближе 7-8 колена (я считаю от себя).

Мне кажется, это действительно очень интересная тема, желаю Вам успеха в Вашем исследовании.

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: Bragida, gennadii5408, iromko3

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6

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kbg_dnepr пишет:

У меня тоже ОЧЕНЬ много совпаденцев среди немцев на уровне 4-6-юродных (на 23эндМи их называют 3rd to 5th cousin).

Я сейчас и пытаюсь через совпаденцев, у которых есть взаимные пересечения и Family Finder FTDNA указывает, что у нас должен быть общий предок, отыскать этого общего предка, а точнее их пару, по их фамильным древам. Идея очень проста, чтобы уже после отыскания этой пары общих предков, можно было по поколениям двигаться по боковым линиям вниз. Конечно, не все документы сохранились и не все удается найти, но это шанс по фамильным пересечениям и по общим местам проживания предков докопаться до правды. Например, до декабря прошлого года мне вообще ничего не было известно о волынских немцах, а теперь у меня уже есть версия, когда и по какой причине моя бабушка из Волыни оказалась в Полтаве. И на данное время уже есть на Волыни населенный пункт, откуда имеет смысл начинать поиски - это Недбаевка. Раньше было это название, а ныне Малиновка Новоград-Волынского района Житомирской области. Информация постепенно накапливается, так как количество людей, протестировавших свой ДНК, неуклонно растет и как следствие появляются новые совпаденцы в базах FTDNA и 23andMe. Остается ждать и действовать, исходя из открывающихся новых обстоятельств и возможностей.

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii54082

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7 (16-11-2016 16:39:55 отредактировано kijko)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Ярематойсамий пишет:

kijko Всё же я не понял, с чего всё началось? Как Вы узнали о немецких корнях бабушки?

Со сдачи ДНК-теста, когда среди моих ближайших совпаденцев вдруг оказались немцы, затем среди тех же совпаденцев стала мелькать Волынь, как место проживания их предков. Стали возникать такие странные вопросы: "А причем здесь Волынь и немцы?". И наконец, в декабре прошлого года среди моих ближайших совпаденцев появилась такая женщина - Ирмгард Хейн Эллингсон, у которой все ее дедушки и бабушки были родом из Волыни. Вот она и рассказала мне, что многие волынские немцы в поисках работы и вследствие репрессий против немцев на Волыни 1934-1935 годов перебрались жить в Полтаву. Ее родственники жили в Полтаве где-то с 1938 по 1941 годы. Вот вся картина и сложилась. Прилагаю здесь историю Ирмгард о ее родственниках и предках, кому будет интересно. От себя добавлю, что ее рассказ - это краткое пособие, где и как нужно искать сведения о своих родственниках - волынских немцах.

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Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Я не затятий противник генетики, ще раз кажу. Просто виявляються деякі пікантні нюанси. Ще простіше - були гулящі жінки. Або усиновлені діти, про яких ми не знаємо. Мені не хочеться такого знати. Саме генетичний крен і зруйнує генеалогію.

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9 (16-11-2016 11:51:59 отредактировано kbg_dnepr)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Пане Яремо, Ви, звісно, праві - правда буває дуже важкою, і навіть нестерпною. Наприклад, я дуже добре пам'ятаю, як страшно мені було їхати дивитися справи мого репресованого діда. Але я схильна думати, що здорова людина повинна бути здатною дивитися правді в очі, бо як спиратися на ілюзії?

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: gennadii54081

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10

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Якій правді? Що може сказати генетика? Що так було і так є. А чи дійсно хтось був німцем, чи яка дівка гульнула з німцем, чи її зг'валтовано - цього через вік і більше ніхто нікому не скаже. Вона, народивши дитину від дурисвіта або г'валтівника, може, в хвіст і в гриву кляла тих німців, але потім хтось виявить у собі німецькі гени... Пане Кійко, це я не про Вас.

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Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Та правда, яку може сказати генетика. Наприклад, в родині мого батька є легенда, що прапрадід? не пустив невістку до поміщика в першу ніч, за що той його висік.

А якщо подумати, що в нього було 14 дітей, то постає багато питань - на інших невісток або дочок поміщик не зазирався? В його батьків були не такі сексуально активні власники? Тобто я про те, що я цілком свідомо цікавлюсь не тільки записами в метричних книгах, але ще й власниками "моїх" сіл, бо виключати "покращання" геному селян ними не можна. 

Ну й що? я перестану поважати когось з своїх прщурів, якщо жінка була вимушена йти до поміщика, а потім чоловік її за це все життя бив та лаяв? Не виключено, що таким байстрюком був Тарас Шевченко, і що? він перестає бути видатним поетом, якщо його предки не зовсім співпадають з його офіційним родоводом? Знаєте, коли мені років в шість у дворі розповіли, як "роблять" дітей (причому все це відбувалося з відчуттям великої соромної таємниці), то я заявила, що ні, мої батьки такого, звісно, не робили. Так ось мені здається, що переконання, що мої предки не здатні на адюльтер, дуже нагадує моє переконання у шість років, що мої батьки не могли займатися такою брудною справою...

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: gennadii54081

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12

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Для тех, кто интересуется историей немцев Волыни, есть такая статья Дональда Миллера о депортации немцев в 1915 году из Волыни. Там есть поименный перечень депортированных лиц, может быть кто-то найдет имена своих родственников.

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Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, Алёна, litar Л, gennadii5408, Т.В.5

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13 (16-11-2016 17:38:14 отредактировано Ярематойсамий)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kijko Спасибо за разъяснения! Теперь понял. А наука генетика с тестированием-совпаденцами и пр. применительно к генеалогии отныне меня вообще не интересует. Чистый безнравственный бизнес!

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14

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Всем, кто ищет своих родственников и предков среди немецких колонистов Волыни и Польши, рекомендую этот сайт, где есть обширный алфавитный перечень фамилий familyresearch.ca/genealogy/surnames.php . Это пример того, до каких размеров могут разрастись два фамильных дерева.

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii54082

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15

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Предлагаю для прочтения историю одной семьи волынских немцев, которая затрагивает их депортацию из Волыни в 1915 году, о том как они затем вернулись обратно в 1917 году и что после этого произошло. История записана на английском языке:
"

Robert Kienert – Autobiography

 

My dear listeners,

 

It was an ordinary day when I had
the idea to record my life story on tape – my memoir, as they say. I
believed that this would be a very interesting story. After all, I had plenty
of adventures in my life. But first, let me introduce myself: My name is Robert
Kienert – I am sure you have already recognized my voice. Today, I want
to take you on a stroll through the story of my life. The individual stations
of this story and its course have shaped my personality to this very day.
Meanwhile, I am well over seventy and you must know that I always ponder
everything when I am alone. Especially at night, when I cannot sleep, I begin
to ponder, and the past returns once again. And that is what I want to share
with you today.

Of course, I am no longer able to
explain everything in great detail. It has all been way too long for that and
some things I have forgotten, too. I would say: This is more like a summary of
my experiences, as far as I am able to remember them. Still, I believe my story
will certainly be interesting and give you a bit of an idea of my adventurous
life.

I want to thank you in advance for
listening so patiently. I have one more request: It is too exhausting for me to
speak these words myself. Please forgive me if you hear someone else's voice
below.

 


 

When I first saw the light of day, it was May 8th,
1902. It was spring and the country turned green and flowery as it does every
year. Of course, I did not yet notice much of that. But I can imagine that this
day was not particularly pleasant for my parents, especially for my mother. At
that time, women still gave birth at home, and most of the time they were on
their own. And that is what it was like during my birth. You must know that my
cradle stood not in Germany
but deep in Russia.
And things there were not so easy. Now, don't think this made me a born
Russian. No, no! I am German, and my parents are, too, of course.

So, I was born on May 8th, 1902, in Fasova, a
larger village with about 2000 inhabitants, near Zhytomyr. All of this is in
Volhynia, near Ukraine's
northern border, a beautiful and exceedingly fruitful country. Volhynia was
primarily inhabited by Germans, especially emigrants from Germany who,
since they tended to be hard-working people, were not doing badly at all
– but that does not mean that it was the land of milk and honey! When,
and for what reason my grandparents came to this country, I do not know.
Surely, they were told – to put it in a funny way – that bananas
are growing straight from the trees into one's mouth there. To this day, I am
surprised and sometimes I cannot even believe that they found the courage to
emigrate. And to Russia
of all places, where an uncertain fate and a certainly hard life was awaiting
them. But no matter. They were young, after all. They were enterprising and
daring enough to step out into the world! That is how our family's adventure in
the expanses of Russia
began.

My grandparents (my grandmother's name was Dorothea but we
always called her Dora, and my grandfather, whose name was Heinrich just as my
father – Heinrich was a very popular name in our family, by the way),
they came from West Prussia. It wasn't that difficult to acquire land in Russia. You
could take as much primeval forest as you wanted. There was plenty of it, after
all, and it didn't cost much, either, almost nothing.

My grandparents had taken over a large field at the time. I
don't remember exactly how large it was, they always said it was approximately
100 hectare – 100 dessjatine, as they say in Russia. That was quite a large
piece of land.

Grandfather, a hard-working man, had opened an oil and grit
mill where the area farmers had their harvest products milled. A lot of
rapeseed, poppy seed, false flax and linseed were grown for personal
consumption. This way, my grandparents were able to earn some money.

They lived this way for many years; they may have had to work
very hard but they lived quite well. My father was born there and my mother,
too. Her parents – their name was Zandern –  lived in the same
village. Later, they moved to Emelufke. Even though land and primeval forest
were available almost for free, it was initially very difficult to farm all of
it. Large trees had to be felled in the forest, almost all of them oaks, sometimes
more than two meters in diameter. The kind of machines we have today were
unheard of at that time. All work had to be done by hand and with human
strength. For my grandfather, all of that was much too hard. He was soon
entirely exhausted, and I remember that he died in his 65th year.

I was just a few years old then. Later, when I was about six
or seven years old, my father purchased a lot in Piserufke. That's about ten
kilometers from Fasova. The plot was good but small, and so father sold it
again after three or four years in order to buy a new piece of land in Emelufke
where my mother's parents had since moved. Again, he sold his land after
several years and purchased a new lot of about 100 hectare in Anderejufke. That
is where we stayed.

The new plot was a very good piece of land. It had three
little houses on it and a small stable, too. One of the houses was a
workers’ house, which means it housed people who worked for us. My
mother's parents later moved into the second house, and we moved into the third
house ourselves. We lived there for many years. I spent my childhood there.

The climate in Volhynia is very good. Very mild and easy to
tolerate. Of course, we didn't live as comfortably as we do here and as we are
used to it here, where one can buy anything ones heart desires. We only had
cake here and there on a Sunday. "Bake something wheaty," Father
would say to Mother – and most often, that was streusel cake. That was
all we knew there.

But we all had enough to eat. There was always plenty of meat
and even more fruit. We ate fruit summer and winter – fruit is naturally
plentiful in Volhynia. The harvest was almost always abundant. Fruit was dried
or candied or canned by the sack-load and so there was plenty even in winter.

Vegetables were scarce and almost never for sale. At the
most, vegetables were grown for one's own consumption. The fields bore mostly
grain, just like here, but we also grew millet. Like I said, we ate a lot of
meat there. So there were ample pigs, horses, cattle – and small livestock,
too. We never lacked meat.

Thinking back, I have to say that the time we spent there was
not so bad. At least, for me. Well, I was still a child, after all, naive, and
I lived happily and carelessly for the moment, just like all children do. Of
course I had to work hard to help my parents – as did my four younger
brothers, Ephraim, Daniel, David and Adolf. And often that was hard for us. But
it was still very nice.

We lived well; Technology as we have it today was not around
back then. I remember the time well when Father traded in livestock. We didn't
transport cows or cattle like we do today. That was not possible. When I was
ten years old, I often had to lead cows. Ten to 15 kilometers, always three
animals attached to one rope. Believe me, it was not easy. But still, we did
fine and were content.

It was 1915, one year into World War I – which mostly 
took place in the west – when we, along with the other Germans who lived
there, received orders from the German consulate to sell everything and return
to Germany, if possible within the next six months. Of course, there was a lot
of upset. After all, many believed that the Word War was now starting up in Russia, too!
Several people were afraid of what was to come and so they followed the
consulate's request and moved back to Germany. But most people stayed,
and we did, too. Father said: "Let's wait and see. I'm sure it won't be
that bad." And that is how most people thought at the time. But if we had
known what was to come, we surely would have moved back, as well.

But God had different plans and so we stayed, and fate took
its course. Soon after, there was no turning back. For now, things were still
peaceful but the war with Russia
was starting. On July 10, 1915, we suddenly received orders from the Russians
to leave our property. Within ten days, they said. We were all deep in shock.

We tried to sell as much as we could to earn some money
– of course, at knockdown prices. Our only goal was to get rid of it. The
Russians who bought from us made good deals. A cow sold for five or six rubles.
Anything that stayed behind was never seen again.

When the deadline was up, the Russians put together a trek.
Thankfully, we were allowed to take horse and cart, which we filled with
anything that was worth taking. Then the displacement began.

The Russians accompanied our trek from village to village
– first to Kiev, then via Chaniov to Saratov, more than 300
kilometers with horse and cart in four weeks. The suffering was immeasurable.
No home, no roof over our heads. We could neither cook food nor properly wash
up. We were driven further and further. The cries of confused children and the
moaning of the old and sick were pitiful. They were the worst off. Thankfully,
war was still far away and we were not followed by tanks and gunfire. But that
was no real comfort. Considering that the Russians themselves had nothing and
considering how impoverished they were in their own country, one can imagine
how appalling our own situation was. I can still see those people with their
sad and haggard faces, trying to relieve the distress as much as possible. But
what could be done? We lacked everything and the Russians kept driving us on
and on.

Meanwhile, it was bitterly cold. If you know winter in Russia, you
know what that means. The great dying began. Weakened by weeks of stress and
strain, people started dying off like flies. Anybody old, sick and weak
succumbed. The misery grew and grew.

In this situation, the Russian government sent a new order:
They stopped our funeral procession and forced us to sell or simply abandon
horse and cart and anything in or on it. Now we only had left what we could
carry with our bare hands.

Our journey now continued by railroad. What a drama! And
impossible to think of the terrible revelation at the end of this ride!

 The Russians had put together a train of cattle cars and we
were loaded into those. It was already evening and everybody ran into the cars,
head over heels. Everybody wanted to get in as fast as possible – for
one, it was bitterly cold, and for another, everybody believed that we would
now proceed faster and the misery would soon be over. The Russians had put up
potbelly stoves in the cattle cars along with some wood and so we were at least
able to fend off the bitter cold somewhat. But that was all. Human beings must,
after all, relieve themselves here and there, especially the children, who were
still very little, and the women who are in particular need of hygiene. But
there was no place to wash. All we had for a toilet was a bucket that was
emptied each time the train stopped. The stench was terrible, of course, as you
can easily imagine. But nobody concerned themselves with this. The Russians
simply locked the doors and didn't care about anything anymore. No wonder, the
stench of sweat and waste – and along with it the mood in the cars
– became worse and worse as time went on.

Night fell. Darkness and cold added to the fear and misery.
It was bitterly cold despite the potbelly stoves. The train did not depart
right away, however, but stayed in the station for some time. As fate willed,
my mother's parents, the Zanders, were separated from us and loaded into the
car behind us.

It was around 4 am when we finally felt the train move.
Nobody knew the destination. Most people slept – what else was there to
do? There was nothing to see. Everything was closed up and shut, and sleep
makes many a burden easier to bear.

The train drove hour after hour. We had long lost any sense
of time. It was a long time before we finally stopped. We were simply put on
the holding track and the Russians came and opened our doors. It was 4 o'clock
in the afternoon and we were allowed to leave the cars so we could move our
legs and get wood and water and other needed supplies.

Father immediately went to the car behind us to see how his
parents-in-law, the Zanders, were doing. But something terrible had happened!
The Russians had simple uncoupled the car that held the grandparents! Or maybe
simply left it somewhere, who knows! Instead, they had attached a car with
Russian refugees from the front. We never saw the Zanders again.

It wasn't until many years and much research later that we
found out from acquaintances that they had been transported to Tashkent,
or Samarkand,
which is at the Chinese border. That is where they died later on, both within a
fortnight of each other. I will leave it up to you, my dear listeners, to gauge
how shocked we were. The loss of our loved ones hit us very hard. Surely, war
brings millions of such separations. But believe me: the terror of those
affected never decreases.

The Russians did not leave us any time for conversation. We
had to get back into our cars and soon the journey continued. After about three
weeks – during which we often stopped for one or two days when we were
simply parked on a holding track – we arrived in Chelyabinsk. Chelyabinsk
is a large city in Siberia, just behind the Ural Mountains.
Here, too, we were immediately placed on a holding track and simply ignored.
Each car held approximately 50 people and you can imagine what was going on in
there!

We had been parked a week when Father simply went to the
Russians and asked if we couldn't just stay here. To his surprise, they told
us: "Yes, you can stay here." I am sure I don't have to tell you how
happy we were! Finally, pain and misery had come to an end. We were able to
take our destiny into our own hands again.

Since nobody cared about us anymore, Father immediately went
and tried to find an apartment for us. And he did find one. There was a house
that stood empty because the Russian inhabitants had died of cholera six months
prior. It was supposed to be disinfected but since there was a war, nobody
asked too many questions. We rented the house together with some neighbors from
back home and moved in.

We had one room and a small kitchen for us: Father, Mother
and five boys. It was a bit tight, that's true. But no matter, the train cars
had been tighter – and after all, we didn't own anything besides what we
carried with us.

The Russians who lived there were very friendly toward us.
They held no grudge or anything – after all, we were Germans, who were at
war with them! But all that happened in far-off Europe;
here, nobody cared. People simply said: "You are poor refugees!" and
that is how they treated us. They brought us straw, too, with which we covered
the floor in the room that was available to us. That is where we settled down.

There was also an oven in the room, a real, big oven with
room to sleep on. I should mention that Russians always sleep on such a stove
during winter, the entire family sleeps on it. A petch is what they call it. It is heated with wood, which is
usually plentiful. This kind of oven is a true Russian tradition. It belongs to
Russian farmhouses like cold and winter belong to Siberia.

Speaking of winter: Winter in Siberia
is a truly terrible thing. Especially when living under primitive conditions as
we did there. Overnight, everything freezes and is soon buried deep in snow.
Temperatures go down to 40 or 50 below zero, and life itself freezes. It all
begins around mid-September and lasts nine months. Once over, summer returns
equally quickly. Within a few days, snow and ice disappear – the cracking
of the ice on the rivers and lakes sounds like distant gunfire.

Almost overnight, the sun burns hot from the sky and causes
millions of flowers and blossoms to appear. Nature's awakening from her icy
sleep is quick and without hesitation. Speed is essential: Summers in Siberia are short and hot. After only three months,
everything is over again. Winter begins anew with the first nightly frosts.

That is how hard and unforgiving the Siberian climate is. And
a man who did not plan ahead was in deep trouble! People who were in captivity
in Siberia can tell you a thing or two about
it.

The next morning, father went with a few others to buy
groceries. We had some money – that was not the problem. Besides, we also
received some help from the Red Cross: About five rubles and sometimes also
food or a soup from the Russians. It was bearable.

After we had lived there for a short while, Father went
looking for work. He found a position with a Russian who lived about three
kilometers away. He could work for five rubles a month there, which was sorely
little but at least it was something. Thankfully, food was cheap. One ruble
bought quite a bit of groceries. One day, Father came home and told me:
"Robert, you have to come with me to the Russian. He wants you. You will
work for him and care for his horses."

And so I went with him. The Russian owned about six horses,
and I was supposed to feed and care for them. But that was not an easy task,
especially when it came to drinking! The water had to be fetched from a place
about 200 meters away, and since it was winter, everything was frozen about one
meter deep. I had to hammer a hole through the ice and carry the uprising water
to the stable in a bucket. The animals also got hay and oats, which I brought
in from outside. Of course, I also had to keep the stable clean.

When evening came, I asked the Russian: "Where should I
sleep?"

"Come with me," he said. I went with him and he took a sack and
stuffed it with straw and took me to the kitchen. There was a bench where I
laid down to sleep. He gave me two blankets. My God, what a night! It was about
40 below zero. While he slept on the warm oven, I lay on the bench freezing
terribly. But what was I supposed to do about it? I simply had to get used to
it.

Of course, I had enough to eat. As usual, there was a lot of
meat and also other meals. Only no vegetables. Each day, I was given more than
enough fruit, dried or canned; there was no lack of it. But as I said, I never
laid eyes on any vegetables.

The people were very kind to me, too, I cannot complain, I
wasn't doing badly. And yet, when I came back home one day, I said to my
father: "I will not go back. I am afraid. There are so many rats in the
stable, it's unbelievable. Those animals are enormous and so bold, they scare
away the horses and eat their food straight from the manger. When you've killed
a cartload full of them, new ones show up the next day to take their place. I
don't even know where they all came from. I don't want to go back there!"

And Father said to me: "Okay, my boy, stay here. I am
fed up, too. The wages are too low and the work is way too hard. Lugging heavy
sacks all day for five rubles a month is more than anyone can take. The wages
are too low. Let's be done with it."

Shortly thereafter, Father found a new position at the
butcher’s, and I was allowed to work there, too. We did very well there.
There were 18 employees, and we made mostly sausages and smoked foods. One day,
the butcher's wife said to me, "Goluptchik",
that means boy, "you have to come with me. You have to herd cattle for
five or six days." The butcher had bought cattle from a farmer and they
had to be tended until they were picked up for butchering. So we left by sled
– it was winter, after all. Suddenly, it began to snow. The snow was so
thick you could not see your own hands. Since there are no streets or paths in Siberia, it was very easy to get lost. This was
particularly dangerous in the winter because of the wolves which are quite
numerable there and which you could often hear howling at night. Those beasts
don't have much to eat during the winter, and with their pack they attack
whatever they can get a hold of. So, losing your way is quite bad, especially
when night surprises you. What could we do? We had to stop half-way at a farm
and wait for the next day.

Overnight, the snow fell more than one meter deep. The next
morning, the weather was good again and we could continue our journey. The
farmer we traveled to had a house that was typical for the Siberian
countryside. In the city, the houses are built from beams and planks and
boards, and the roofs are covered with straw or – if you had enough money
– with tin. Roof tiles and shingles were unheard of. Also, there are
electric lights in the city. Out in the country, everything is different.
Houses are built by laying sod pieces on top of each other, about one meter
thick. The walls are caked with clay and furnished with small, smooth glass
windows. Wooden beams and boards are placed on top, and the whole thing is
covered with straw. And that's it. Petroleum lamps are used for lighting.

Most of these farm cottages only have one room. This farmer's
house was such a cottage. One corner of the room held the oven, the petch, and
the other housed a table with benches – all of them very primitive, of
course: The table and bench legs were simply poles that were driven into the
floor. Then boards were placed on top, and done. The man had covered the floor
with straw up to his knees. There was no toilet. There were no toilets anywhere
in the countryside – they were unknown. (In the city, yes. In the city,
it was like it is here.) If you had to relieve yourself you just hopped into
the bushes behind the house. There – like most everywhere in Siberia – you would find the Siberian wandering
toilet. It consists of two sticks – one for leaning on and one for
fending off the wolves.

And there we were. The butcher's wife drove off again and I
remained to care for the cattle with the farmer. The animals were outside in a
fenced-in paddock. And they stayed there through the night, despite the bitter
cold. But they tolerated it well. Once a day I had to let them out to drink:
first, snow had to be removed from the watering hole, and then a hole had to be
hammered through the ice, as usual. When the animals were satisfied, we drove
them back to the paddock. I fetched hay from a large pile there and laid it
against the fence for feeding. That was my entire work.

The evenings were terrible. It got dark early and it was
always very cold. And especially: bitterly boring. The Russian slept on his
warm often and, once again, I had to sleep on one of the benches. Despite fur
coat and felt boots, I suffered miserably most of the time. I was barely able
to sleep, it was so cold. A fortnight later, the butcher's wife came back and
at that point, I was very discontent. I cried and told her, "I am not
staying any longer, I want to leave." And she took me with her.

Father and I worked at the butcher’s for about half a
year. When the work became worse, we quit. Father soon took a new position
– we had to live, after all, and even in Siberia
that is not possible without money.

Father had heard that felling trees in the forest brought a
lot of money. And so we went into the forest. Everybody came along: Father,
Mother, my brothers Daniel, Ephraim and David and Adolf, and I, of course. Our
neighbors from back home, who shared our apartment, came too.

First, we had to walk two hours to get to the place where
trees were to be felled. We had arranged to stay for several days to spare us
the back and forth. We headed out, carrying everything we needed. Now, don't
think you can just walk into the woods. There were no paths. And the woods are
different from here – the forest is primeval, grown without management
for thousands of years. We were told the place and the direction and then we
had to figure out how to get there. Of course, there was much to behold:
Flowers and plants bloom in abundant beauty because the forest grows untouched
and undisturbed. Someone familiar with nature and interested in botany will
certainly get their money's worth here – as far as he has time for such
things. The road to the worksite is cumbersome and the work to be done is grueling.
I was just about 15 years old at the time, and the oldest of my siblings. I am
mentioning this so you can imagine how difficult it was for us to earn our
living back then. Primeval trees are, as a rule, very old and very strong. It
is not rare to find trees that measure several meters in circumference. Felling
such a trunk with axe and saw takes quite some time! But that was not the end
of it. The leaves and branches had to be removed, as well. That was not so
easy. We all had to work hard.

Soon it was evening. We set up a camp for the night where we
could cook and sleep. But there was not going to be much sleeping. Sure, a
summer evening in the Siberian woods is quite wonderful. Experiencing this, in
untouched nature, oh yes, when the sun sets and the heat of the day diminishes,
when the voices of the forest and the song of the birds get quiet, and when the
sky, aglow in every color in the face of the setting sun, slowly grows pale and
when darkness begins to spread bit by bit between the trees and one's thoughts
start wandering between day and dream – then, we can feel the freedom of
nature and the adventure that is our lives. After a day of hard labor, one
sleeps soundly in the forest under the open sky – or so you would think.
But as I said, there was not much sleeping that night. Night fell, and with it
came the dread and the fear.

For some time we had been hearing the rustling and breaking
of twigs and branches around us. And when darkness had fully arrived, we could
see them: wolves! There they were, and they had surrounded us. We had started a
large fire and in its glow, we saw the shadows of the animals as they rushed
through the underbrush. Their eyes shone like glowing embers at us,
threatening. We heard them yap, and their howls were dreadful in the night. For
them, we were prey and food for their hungry stomachs. The circle they had cast
around us became smaller and smaller. At this point, all of us were on our feet
and we had positioned ourselves in a circle around our camp – sleep was
unthinkable. Each of us held an axe or some other weapon, a hatchet or a knife,
ready to strike or stab mercilessly when the attack came. However, it appeared
that the wolves were quite afraid of our fire, which we fed again and again to
keep it shining brightly. They circled us tightly but they did not come any
closer. This is how it went until dawn, when the nightmare was over and the
animals suddenly disappeared.

Dead tired, we went back to work that morning. But since we
had not slept the night before, we didn't make much progress. When evening came
again, we went home. We had decided not to spend another night there. It was
far too dangerous.

We went back one more day and then we were tired of it. A two-hour
walk in the morning, another two hours at night, that was too much. We were
exhausted just from walking! We had lost all interest. And so we soon gave up
this work, as well.

After that, Father tried self-employment and succeeded. We
opened a butcher shop. An axe, a cleaver and anything else we needed was
acquired or purchased. It is not hard to run a business in Russia. No
permits were necessary – there are no trade offices like we have them
here. And nobody had to pay taxes. Back then – despite the war, the country
was still peaceful and quiet – you simply started to work. Nobody cared.
As long as there was enough money to purchase what you needed, all was well.
However, we needed a fire insurance policy – a private one, of course
– but there was no concrete requirement for this either. Where we lived,
life was quite uncomplicated, almost no comparison to Western
Europe. Especially, there were no official requirements, as there
are in Germany.

Even though World War I was raging in Western Europe and in
the westernmost parts of Russia,
we did not feel any of it. On the contrary, the Russians were very friendly
toward us. I have never seen them accusing us and we didn't experience any
reprisals. Surely, during a drunken brawl we may be accused of being German
– "You Germanskis!" they would say. But that was it. We were
never hurt. Not even the police cared about us. Everybody was free to do as
they pleased.

As I said, Father opened a butcher shop. The Russians came
and brought us living pigs and we slaughtered them and sold them by the pound,
especially to the many German refugees who lived there. But the Russians came,
too, since they were able to find things a bit cheaper than elsewhere. They
especially liked to buy bacon. There was always much demand for bacon. Later,
we mainly tried to purchase pigs that had already been slaughtered. That was
less work. However, the slaughtered pigs were frozen solid. Meat sales in Siberia are different from here. There are no halves
– the pigs remained whole. Only the innards are removed; and pigs are not
sold as halves or quarters or as ham or shoulder ham. No, they were sold by the
piece. We just chopped straight through the pig with our meat cleaver –
each piece as large as desired. As far as I remember, our business did very well.
Father earned well and we did not live poorly.

In 1915, I celebrated my confirmation in Chelyabinsk. As I said, there were many, many
Germans there and we also had a German pastor who held services. His name was
Wasen. I remember that I was in a large hall with many other young people and
that I was confirmed by this pastor. But that is all I remember.

While we had the butcher shop, there was little work for me
at home. Whatever needed to get done, my parents were able to handle. That is
why I went to a flour shop where I delivered flour. I did earn a lot in tips
while I worked there, but otherwise my income was very low and I only stayed
three months. I was promised better pay in an apothecary shop. There, I had to
rinse out little bottles that were needed for medical purposes. But that, too,
did not go well. At first, I was supposed to earn well, but later, I wasn't
even given half of what I was promised. I was given just about two rubles a
month and that was too little. And so I went to find different work.

For some time, I worked as a hotel boy. I had to do all sorts
of little jobs, for example bringing something in or carrying something out,
making fires for the guests in their rooms – there was no central heating
– or running errands, and many, many other things that had to get done.
But my wages were pitiful. Here, too, I was only given half of my promised
wages – two to three rubles a month. Given the work I had to do, this was
nothing. Of course, I ate for free at the hotel.

 It all sounds so simple but reality was cruel. When, after
much searching, you finally found work, you could not impose conditions –
such as regular work hours or a fixed hourly wage or free weekends, vacations
or even sick pay and such. Those things only exist in modern-day Germany. In Russia, all of
this was unheard of, and nobody asked for it, either. If you didn't like the
work or somethings else, you didn't have to take it. Who cares if you had work,
money or the necessities for life? Nobody! Welfare was an unknown term. And you
had no rights! If, after a week or a month, you ask for your wages and the boss
only gives you half, you have to accept. Surely, you could sue but that costs a
lot of money, which you don't have. And even if you did, that doesn't mean you
would win. Bribery is the deciding argument in Siberia
– at least back then it was.

Once you accepted a position, you had to labor morning till
night without complaint and do whatever the boss tells you to. If not, you were
free to leave.

After I had given up my work as a hotel boy – again
because of poor pay – I found a job with a Russian Jew. I have to say, it
was not a bad position. The people were good to me and the work was not too
hard. The man had a kind of taxi service. Of course, not with a car, oh no:
Horse and buggy, as it was customary at the time. It is funny to think about it
now: Today, we have cars or we order a taxi, by phone, of course, and we can
quickly accomplish whatever we wish. Yes – now and here! Back then, in Siberia, all of this was very, very different. There was
no telephone, people didn't even know about it. Certainly, in the cities there
were phones but not in the country. If you wanted or had to travel, provided
you could afford it, you had to be content with horse and buggy. Either you
owned one yourself or you rode along with someone else or rented one. Nobody
was in a hurry. Everything was much more contemplative and stress-free.
Everybody had time.

But it was also less comfortable and more cumbersome. For
you, my dear listeners, the thought and idea of driving through the expanses of
Siberia in horse and cart is wonderful: past
never-ending fields, past tranquil, quiet lakes and through dark and silent
forests where nature reveals herself in her entire beauty. And especially in
winter, when rivers and lakes are frozen and villages, fields, and forests are
covered in deep snow. As you know, there is a lot of snow in Siberia.
Yes, gliding across frozen rivers in a sled with jingling bells, ice cracking,
white steam rising from the horses’ nostrils into the blue skies,
landscapes along the banks of the river appearing and disappearing like grey
shadows from the evening mists – I have to admit, fairytales could not be
more beautiful. Yes, but only in the imagination of those who have never experienced
it or only know it from romance novels.

But in Siberia, this is part
of everyday life. Who is familiar with the drudgery of such a journey, who can
guess which dangers are lurking? I have experienced such a sleigh ride with my
family. I will say more about that later.

I should mention that the only
way to travel in winter in Siberia is by sled.
Any cart would sink into the snow with its tires, plus there are no paths or
streets in the deep snow – those are sparse in this country, anyway. The
only travel paths were the frozen rivers.

But back to my new position. As I said, the Russian Jew had a
sort of taxi company. I was given two horses and a cab and was sent to drive
anybody who inquired from the railway station into town or the other way around
or to any other place. The cab fit approximately eight to ten people and it was
always well used. I did this work for an entire summer. The wages were
miserable here, as well, but I received many tips, which made it all worthwhile
– with five or six rubles a month, I earned my living.

When I returned home after a successful day and handed the
earnings to my boss, he was always very happy and became generous. He was good
to me, I cannot complain. I was given tea and white bread – kalach,
as it was called – and I did well, otherwise, too.

But one day, I had a bad experience. I was driving along
Bolšój Ulica
with a cab when two Chinese men waved to me. I stopped and they got in. They
asked if I knew where the brothel was. I am sure you are surprised to hear this,
but those exist in Russia,
too, though only in the larger cities, such as Chelyabinsk, not in the countryside. The poor
muzhiks had no money for such things. Desire and interest, maybe – after
all, even in Siberia, people are not made from
wood. But due to the lack of money, life in the country was a bit more
civilized. I told the men that I knew the place and they requested that I take
them there. It was about three kilometers away and I drove them.

When we arrived at the brothel, they told me to wait and went
inside. I waited outside for a long time and finally became restless and
worried that they would not come back. And so I went and knocked – I
wanted my money, after all! Soon they came out but they were very, very angry.
The pulled a sheath knife – a djendjal,
as it is called there – and they came after me. Surely, those scoundrels
had spent all their money on the whores and now wanted my money to pay the
bill. But I was quicker! I gave up on the fare, whipped my horses and took off.
I would have much rather whipped the two of them than my poor animals, but I
suppose it was better this way. When I later told my boss, he said I had acted
correctly.

I should add that Bolšój Ulica, the Grand Street, was not as grand as its
name suggests. Many Tartars lived there, who ate mainly dog, cat and horse meat
and who simply threw the animals' bones and heads into the street – and
nobody cared. Often, the stench was terrible, especially during the warm
summers.

When summer came to an end, I soon had to give up my
position. During those years in Siberia, I had
many different jobs but at times I was unemployed. In those times, I went with
my mother to the train station to unload coals. Sometimes, we took Ephraim
along. I often had to accompany Mother and my brothers, anyway, because none of
them could speak Russian. Only my father and I had mastered that language and
were able to communicate well.

The work at the train station was very hard. We had to unload
cars full of coals that had arrived or reload the coals into another car that
were then taken away by a locomotive. Those were not small, gravel-size coals
– oh no! Large pieces, sometimes weighing two hundredweights – what
drudgery! We were paid 50 kopeks per train car. That was not much, but on the
other hand, we could buy quite a few things with it. An egg sold for about four
kopeks at the time and a pound of butter for 20 kopeks. Or a pound of meat,
even, cost 20 to 25 kopeks. Food was cheap. But think of it: 50 kopeks for an
entire car – nobody here would even lift a finger for 50 kopeks, and
compared with today's local wages we slaved away for peanuts, as they say. And
sometimes, we didn't get anything. Exploitation was part of daily life and if
you wanted to live, you had to work very hard.

I never really experienced a cultural life in Siberia – such as a movie theater and the like. The
Sunday service was often the only place where we met up with the many Germans
who lived around us. We might see each other while swimming in the rivers and
lakes during the summer; of course, there were always many Russians present, as
well. They enjoy bathing often and feel quite free while bathing, not shy at
all. After all, this was often the only fun they were able to have, which is
understandable considering that Russian villages have no running water. Showers
were unheard of, as well, even in Hotels. At most, there was a tub to stand in
and wash. However, there are banyas everywhere – those are saunas, and
the Russians use them excessively, especially during the winter. In the
country, every farm has a banya, but there are some in the cities, as well.
Those are communal saunas, such as we find them here in public swimming pools.

It cost 10 kopeks to join the fun. I would like to add here
that 10 Kopeks are about 10 Pfennig if you compare the ruble to a German mark.
So, 100 kopeks are one ruble, and that means that 10 kopeks for a visit to the
sauna is quite a bit of money. After all, 20 kopeks can buy a pound of butter
or even a pound of meat. And as I said earlier, we only got 50 kopeks to unload
a large car-full of coals! You did not necessarily have to use the communal
sauna in these places – individual cabins were available for rent, as
well, but that was very expensive – you had to pay 50 or 60 kopeks or
sometimes even a ruble. I, myself, also frequented such saunas, of course only
paying 10 kopeks, and I enjoyed going as often as possible – by the way,
I still do to this day."

Спасибо сказали: Алёна, kbg_dnepr2

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16

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Продолжение:
"
One day, Father received the news that his brother Wilhelm
was supposedly living near Samara in Yekaterinenshtadt. Samara is a large
industrial city about 1,000 kilometers as the crow flies southwest of Chelyabinsk on this side of the Ural Mountains, i.e. in Europe. Chelyabinsk, where
we lived then, was on the far side of the Ural Mountains, i.e. in Asia. The town is situated at the southern edge of the
so-called Volga-Urals, also called the Second Baku, right at the shore of the
Volga river as it takes a massive horseshoe bend east on its northward journey.
Today, Samara is a city of more than 760,000 inhabitants. Since 1935, it has
been called Kuybyshev.

So, my uncle was supposed to live in this area, or rather, in
Yekaterinenshtadt. If you were to look at a map today, you would search for
Yekaterinenshtadt in vain. And so I must tell you about it:

Yekaterinenshtadt is a small town with approximately 5000
inhabitants. It is also situated along the Volga,
about 50 kilometers downstream from Samara. The name of this town – which
was founded by Germans, by the way – was dedicated to that German
princess Catherine von Anhalt-Zerbst, wife of the Peter III, successor to the
throne and later emperor. Following his assassination, she ascended the throne
and reigned the Russian Empire as Empress Catherine II. Certainly, many of you
will have heard of her lover and favorite, the Russian prince and statesman
Potemkin. In 1795, Empress Catherine called many Germans to Russia and offered them a large area along the Volga for settlement. Today, these emigrants are known as
Volga Germans. This area is now covered by villages, small and larger, and
everything is German: German churches, German schools, even the language
– it feels like you are in Germany there. Most people speak
Swabian, as it is spoken around Stuttgart.

So that was where Uncle Wilhelm was supposed to live, and of
course, we wanted to get there, as well. We packed up all our possessions and
the whole family got on the train in Chelyabinsk
to ride to Samara. The journey lasts two days and is an adventure in and of
itself. The cars of the Russian railroad have large compartments with fold-down
seats. Passengers are huddled closely together in each corner – single
travelers and entire families – with all their belongings, often also
with animals such as chickens or geese or dogs and the like. Real family life
takes place in those cars, right in front of the noses of the other passengers
– and without inhibitions. You can't be squeamish when the noise gets too
loud or when it stinks of all sorts of things. After all, we, too, were
traveling with a family of 7 and all that we owned. And it was certainly not
easy for my mother to provide the necessities for us. Two days and nights in a
train compartment is not an easy feat, but nobody made a fuss. First, the train
rolled through the Ural Mountains to Ufa, the
capital of the soviet province Bashkiria
[Bashkortostan]. Ufa
is a town with many oil refineries and you could smell that, too – the
stench was indescribable! Unfortunately, we were placed on a holding track and
left there all night.

But what could we do? When we got to Ufa, only half our journey was over. We were
all happy when we were finally able to exit the train in Samara, many hours
later. And then the big surprise: Yekaterinenshtadt was another 50 kilometers
further, and no train or anything led there! In the summer, you could take the
boat down the Volga, but now, in winter…
no chance! The Volga was frozen, and there we
were. What now? Father immediately went off to gather information, and he found
a place, a kind of trading place with many Russians from the nearer and wider
surroundings who had brought grain or cattle to Samara by sled. One of them
offered to take us to Yekaterinenshtadt by sled – for a good sum of
money, of course. My God, what a dangerous ride!

We sped along the frozen Volga
with its uneven surface. The sled swayed terribly from one side to the other
and we all fell across each other, sometimes believing the sled was rolling
over. For hours, we drove through this barren land and had covered about 25
kilometers when night fell. The Russian took us to a village at the western
shore of the Volga, which was inhabited by
Russians while the eastern shore was almost exclusively German. We spent the
night in that village. The people here were once again very friendly toward us,
gave us food and water and a room for the night.

The next morning, we got back in the sled and the wild ride
continued, harsh and uncomfortable and without a trace of romance, all the way
to Yekaterinenshtadt. But there, we found out that Uncle Wilhelm lived in a
village about 7 kilometers further. We asked the Russian who had brought us
this far to take us there, as well, which he did. Of course, for extra payment.
But that didn't matter so much. We had some money from our butcher business on
the Chelyabinsk
market.

When we finally found Father's brother, another issue arose:
Uncle wasn't able to house us. He lived with another family in a total of 3
rooms, and there were seven of us, including all our belongings. We could not
stay! Luckily, there was another relative in the village, one of my cousins,
who had married a German teacher. Their name was Schwanke. Her husband simply
led us into a classroom where we were able to spend the night. The next
morning, the people in the village offered us the bakehouse so we had a place
to stay. The bakehouse was a single room with a large baking oven in the center
where the village people baked their bread. So, for the time being, we had a
roof over our heads and also an oven where we could bake and keep warm, even if
only with straw. There was no wood. We lived there for fourteen days, and it
was bitterly cold. It was winter, in Russia and the snow was many meters
deep.

After two weeks, Father had secured an apartment in
Yekaterinenshtadt and we moved in. It only had two rooms but it was better than
the bakehouse. Not long after, Father was trading with meat again. He bought
living pigs and had them slaughtered in the slaughterhouse. That was the law in
Yekaterinenshtadt. They also stamped the meat like they do here but nobody
cared what happened to it after that. As long as you had product, you went to
market and simply sold whatever you could. Father had a good income and we
lived well.

When summer came, I often sold Schnapps in Yekaterinenshtadt,
which Father brought home. I simply slipped a bottle into my waistband and went
off. Wherever I went, I'd ask the men: "Do you want Schnapps?" And if
they said yes, I gave them some. And so I, too, earned a good income. When the
bottle was empty, I fetched a new one from home and off I went again.

In the fall, it was now 1917, the revolution started and life
began to deteriorate. The Bolsheviks were roaming the country with their
propaganda and I, too, often went with them from village to village, spreading
propaganda. I was only 16 years old and thought all of this was so terribly
exciting.

One day, Schwanke, my cousin's husband, said: "We cannot
go on like this. We have to try and see if we can't get back to our properties
in Volhynia." But our attempt failed. After we, Uncle Wilhelm, and the
Schwankes had handed over all our possessions to the railroad, we ended up in
Prishib at the Black Sea, near Melitopol almost at the beginning of the Crimean Peninsula. And again, we had spent three
days on the railroad, riding almost 2000 kilometers. But that is as far as we
got. Not to our home, Volhynia. We moved into an apartment near the train
station, while Uncle and the Schwankes moved into a village called Hochstein.
Father immediately took up his business of buying pigs and selling their meat
again. Here, too, business was great. Eventually, we were even able to buy a
cow.

Since I did not always need to help Father, I went to look
for work at a mill, where I had to carry sacks of flour with a cart. About 100
meters lay between the filling room and the storage room. 200 sacks a day and I
was paid one kopek per sack. I did not do this for very long. I couldn't,
either, because we only stayed in Prishib for about six months. Father could
not let go of the idea of going back to Volhynia. One day, he left to scout
everything out while Mother stayed behind with us children. But he, too, did
not have any luck. The Russians simply wouldn't let him through.

Meanwhile, since we had run out of meat, I went to market
with my mother and bought a pig weighing three hundredweight. I drove it home
full of pride. We then sold the meat and when Father came back home after four
or five days, he was very happy for I had already earned back the money he had
used to buy his ticket.

One night, there was a terrible gunfight. The explosions of
rifles and machine guns surrounded us all night. We were all terrified. In the
morning, when things were calm again, Father said: "We must go and see
what happened." When we got to the train station, we were very surprised.
What joy! We saw German soldiers everywhere. German troops had arrived! Now, we
believed, our displacement at the hand of the Russians had ended and we could go
back home.

Father immediately spoke to a German officer who brought him
to the General Staff a bit further away. (The front had moved farther east.)
There, he was introduced to a German General. He questioned Father as to who we
are, where we came from and what we were up to. And finally, how many Germans
there were here. After the questioning, he ordered train cars to be made
available immediately to bring us all to safety – not to our home, but to
Germany.
That is what he preferred, he said. Father, however, didn't want this; he
wanted to get to Volhynia. Of course, he didn't tell the General and didn't let
on in any way. And so, once again, we packed our things and soon, the train
left for Germany.
First, it took us to Zhytomyr, which was exactly where we had wanted to go and
where we were at home. In addition, we were lucky enough to have the train stop
in Kosova, just before Zhytomyr, about 12 to 15 kilometers away from Fasova,
our home town.

Quickly, we unloaded our things and headed out to our
properties. But what did we find there!? Only one house was somewhat intact,
but entirely run down on the inside. All barns had disappeared; windows and
doors were smashed in everywhere. It looked awful, the Bolsheviks must have
raged terribly. But we were home again. We would later find out that it would
have been better to continue on to Germany on the transport. Over
time, we had built everything back up. The local Russians were eager to help
us. Life proceeded the usual way and soon, Father began trading with cattle
again, just as he had done prior to the displacement. It was summer, and there
was plenty of pastureland. Business started up well.

It did not last long, however. The First World War was over,
the German troops went west again and we found ourselves under Soviet Rule once
again. The time that followed was the worst of all. The turmoil of the October
Revolution had led to the formation of various Bolshevik groups that were
fighting amongst each other. First and foremost, there was a band of
Belarusians called Petliura after their leader. These bands roamed the country,
looting and pillaging, destroying anything that crossed their path and shooting
anyone who didn't follow their command. The police and the regular Russian army
stood by helplessly. Each night, there were terrible gunfights and stabbings
and the next morning, you could see bodies in the street, mostly murdered Jews.
If one group raged today, another one would show up tomorrow. Often, our father
was put up against the wall to be shot over nothing. The bandits were mostly
people who themselves or whose parents had been banned to Siberia
for committing murders or other crimes. They were driven only by the lust to
loot and kill.

One time, yet another gang entered our home to loot. But we
had hidden our money so well, they couldn't find it. And so they took Father
out onto the street and asked him about a different gang that was here the day
before and what they had been up to. Father told them: "I don't know. I
didn't see anything. What am I supposed to say? I don't know anything!"

"What?” their leader yelled, "You are on their side, aren't
you?"

And they wanted to shoot Father. My mother began to cry and wail loudly and my
brothers and I made a ruckus, too. Somehow, the bandits seemed to be impressed
by this and they let go off Father and took off. Of course, we took off
quickly, too.

As I said, it was a terrible time, and that is why we
decided, together with Uncle Wilhelm and the Schwankes, to sell our properties
and to return to Germany
for good. That was easier said than done. First, Father had to travel to
Zhytomyr to obtain emigration papers – but that was the least of it. Who
would buy our properties? We didn't find anybody. When we had gathered all our
papers, we had no choice but to lease it all to a Russian. We have never heard
from or seen it since.

We had hired a Russian to bring us in his cart to the train
station about 30 or 50 kilometers from the Polish border. It was called
Slavota. That wasn't all that far from our home. Poland's
eastern border at the time was still deep in today's Soviet
Union. It wasn't until Hitler's Invasion of Poland that the
Russians captured large areas in eastern Poland, which they never returned.
Having arrived at the platform in Slavota, we loaded our things into a train
car and rode through all of Poland
and into Prostki, a German town at the German-Polish border. Prostki is about
15 kilometers south of Ełk in Masuria, in East Prussia. Once arrived, we received aid
from the German Red Cross. First, we were put into a delousing facility! After
that, we were given a medical exam and finally, we were sent to a camp for
fourteen days or maybe three weeks, I don't remember exactly. Then, we were
transported to Konigsberg, where we had to
spend another three weeks, surely because of papers and passports or some such
thing.

Father remembered that he had a brother-in-law by the name of
Rudolf Klabun who was said to live in Koppelbude near Zinten. We decided to go
there. And so, once again, we boarded the train and drove to Zinten. We had
just arrived and unloaded everything, when a man came along and asked us where
we were headed. I am sure he felt pity for us as we stood there with all our
belongings and dressed in rags. We didn't have anything better – where would
we have gotten it? We told him our destination and he said: "You want to
see Klabun? Oh, I knew him well. He died two years ago. If I can give you
advice, take the train to Geierswalde in the Osterode district. There, in a
village by the name of Semen, lives his brother August Klabun. He has a piece
of land there, and I am sure he will help you."

He gave us the address. We managed to throw everything back
onto the train just in time, and the journey went on. However, the train ended
in Hohenstein, and that is as far as we got. Meanwhile, it was night and very
cold. There were no lights anywhere. What were we supposed to do? The train
station got locked up and we stood on the street. After much searching, we
found a pub in town where we were offered an unheated room so we wouldn't have
to sleep under the open sky. When we asked for tea or coffee to warm up a bit,
we were given nothing. To this day, I don't know why. Toward morning, it got so
cold we thought we would freeze to death. Around four o'clock in the morning,
we couldn't take it any longer. We left the pub and went to the train station
so that we could at least move a bit in the cold. It must have been 25 or 30
degrees below zero.

It was six in the morning when the train to Geierswalde
finally arrived. In the car, we met a young girl who listed curiously to our
conversation. It turned out to be August Klabun's daughter. With her help, we
quickly reached our destination. Everybody was exceedingly happy when we
arrived. We were cordially welcomed and given whatever we lacked. Now we were
back in Germany.
Our odyssey through Russia
was over.

Of course, we couldn't stay with the Klabuns forever. And so,
Father tried to buy us our own piece of land. After all, we had brought enough
money, but only rubles. First, Father had to travel to Berlin to exchange the money at the
Reichsbank from where returned with the tidy sum of 17,000 Reichsmark. With
this money, he bought a property in Ostrowite in the
Osterode district. Our family farmed and lived on this land until our next
displacement at the end of World War II. It is where my younger brother,
Walter, was born in 1922. Also in 1922, I married my wife Alma, née Preuss,
whom I had met in Gronowo, later Wiesenthal. To this day, I share my life with
her.

I still remember a little scene that occurred back then. Due
to our impending engagement, we took a horse-drawn carriage to Neidenburg, a
district town similar to Mettman, to buy the engagement rings. On our way
there, Alma
asked me: "How old are you, anyway?" When I told her, her first
reaction was shock. "I would have preferred to have an older
husband," she said. "Well," I said, "We can still do
something about that. Let's just turn around and call it quits." But she
didn't want that. She said: "No, no, forget it. It's alright." And
that's how we kept it.

After our marriage, I moved in with her parents who owned a
farm. My father had given me 500,000 Reichsmark – but it was inflation
money. I gave this money to my father-in-law, who paid off a mortgage with it.
A little later, he sold his farm for 135 million Reichsmark and each of his
three daughters received a portion of 35 million Reichsmark, again inflation
money, of course.

My wife and I used the money to purchase a run-down farm with
approximately 56 acres in Ostrowite, which afforded us the opportunity to
become independent. In 1924, the currency was adjusted and money, once again,
was worth something. By 1927, we had earned enough money to allow us to
purchase an additional 78 acres and so we were now owners of a handsome farm
with 35 hectares, i.e. 135 acres. But despite our hard work, we were not able
to achieve greater success and improve our standard of living. The aftereffects
of World War I, inflation, rise in prices, and economic manipulation by
ruthless racketeers or war profiteers had contributed to the fact that many
farms in eastern Germany
were deep in debt. Luckily, this was not the case for me.

It wasn’t until the National Socialists under Hitler
came to power in Germany
in 1933, that this situation quickly changed. Soon, our new home, East Prussia, became a
flourishing country. Unfortunately, this was also the beginning of a disastrous
time which I am sure you all remember.

Many years went by. Our farm and our business improved
increasingly. I often think back to the waving fields of grain and the lush
meadows where healthy cattle grazed, the dark, silent forests with the
wonderful, crystal lakes that are so plentiful in East Prussia. Meanwhile, my family had
grown, too. My wife Alma gave birth to four children over the years, two boys
and two girls. Surely, it was not easy for her, I have to say. The work in the
house and on the farm was hard. Nothing was given to us in life. And raising
four children in addition to this is truly admirable. But we lived happily and
contentedly and suffered no hardship – after all, the future looked rosy,
or so we thought.

But man proposes and God disposes. 1939 saw the beginning of
the most terrible war the world had ever experienced. New suffering, new
misery, displacement from our home, everything lost, and finally nothing but
bare life. That was the price we had to pay. And many millions of others along
with us. What can I tell you? Each of us knows the story of World War II, and
only those are able to comprehend the blows of fate who have suffered them,
themselves.

For me and my family, it all started on April 16, 1941, when
my son Edmund, my oldest son, and I were drafted at the same time. My wife Alma
and the remaining three children, Werner, Ursula and Hildegard, who were only
six, twelve and fourteen years old, stayed behind and were left to their own
devices. They had to take care of house and farm by themselves, only a couple
of farm hands with Polish passports were at their side. It was great luck that
these people were reliable and my wife got along well with them. And that was
true even when they were forced to flee at the end of the war. But more on that
later.

While I received a short training in Osterode and later in
Pomerania with the heavy railway artillery and was deployed to Belgium, my son
Edi, as we called him – I regret to say that he volunteered – was
sent to the NCO school in Pomerania and from there to the military college Spreewald.
As fate willed, he was then sent the eastern front to the Donets
Basin, the so-called middle section. Soon after, his young life
ended at a railway crossing near Ternavoya. It was August 14, 1943. Of course,
I often reproached myself, and I am sure my wife did, too, if only he hadn't
volunteered! Yes, if only, if only... What does it even mean? Today I know: Our
lives are in God's hands, and when the time is at hand, each one of us must go,
no matter how and where. But maybe you have to turn old before you understand
this.

I would like to add here that my son Edmund was not the only
one taken from us by the war. My brother Daniel fell on August 19, 1943 at Lake Ladoga
in Russia,
five days after my son Edmund.

As I had said, I was deployed to Belgium, more precisely to
Blankenberge at the Belgian North Sea coast. About six months passed and I
became ill. I was sent back to Pomerania to
recover and I worked there for one and a half years as assistant in the armory.
After that, I was sent back to the second battery of the heavy railway
artillery and with them to Calais in France. I was
assigned to the General Staff and sent to work in the armory again. I wasn't
doing too poorly, I have to admit.

But that had an end when the invasion began. The American
attacks gained in intensity, both by land and air, and we were forced to
retreat east, toward Germany.
We finally ended up in the Dusseldorf
administrative region and I was taken captive in Remscheid. I spent the final days of World
War II in a prisoner of war camp on the Rheinwiesen near Andernach.

Those were cruel times. The war was almost over, the German
Wehrmacht beaten, and now the Allied Forces took so many prisoners that they
didn't know where to put them anymore. On big trucks, they were simply brought
to Remagen, Sinzig or Andernach where three large enclosures had been erected.
The Americans, however, were unable to provide shelter and food for the
prisoners who were taken so suddenly and in such numbers. What remained? We
were forced to camp under open skies.

It was April, and it was bitter cold. Often, it rained
heavily and we were drenched, which made the cold even harder to bear. The
small triangular tent I owned did not help much.

Many died from cold and exhaustion. There was little to eat,
only once a day and sometimes not even that. Sometimes, nothing at all. You
couldn't even call it food. Food was distributed by the gram, whatever there
was available; all in all not even a cupful. Hunger accompanied the cold. I had
found a little turnip and I secretly nibbled on it when the hunger became
unbearable. It was terrible. My entire body was swollen and I was not doing
well at all. Trench sickness, they called it.

I was in Andernach for three weeks. Suddenly we were told
that we are going home but that was a mistake. We were loaded onto vehicles and
brought to Sinzig, another prisoner of war enclosure on the Rheinwiesen.
Conditions there were even worse. After my three weeks in Andernach, I spent
nine more in Sinzig. Adding to my misery was the fact that I did not know what
the situation was at home, how my family was doing. After all, we had heard
that the Russians stood at the doors to Berlin.

But the day finally came when we were actually sent home. I
told the American officer that I would like to be released to East
Prussia or Mecklenburg. But I was
told that that was out of the question because the Russians were there and
would immediately send us to Siberia. And so I
was released to Dusseldorf,
where I had relatives, two female cousins and a male cousin, who had lived
there for years. One of them, my male cousin, owned a pig fattening unit.

When I had arrived in Dusseldorf,
one of my female cousins took me in, namely Alwine Neek, who lived in
Dusseldorf-Gerresheim and had remained there through the war. My other cousin,
Mariechen Borzien had been evacuated to Dreislar in Hesse.

During the coming months, I often rode to Dreislar to beg for
food, especially for flour, so we could eat. Hamster tours are what we called
those trips. What else could we do? There was almost nothing to buy, at best
under the table, and if you didn't have anything to barter or didn't go on
hamster tours, you didn't get to eat. It was pure chaos.

One day, it was September of 1945, my wife and children
suddenly appeared at our doorstep, carrying only a bundle over their shoulders,
exhausted and ragged like gypsies. I neither can nor want to describe the
happiness we all experienced at being reunited, especially since we all became
aware then that we had, once again, lost our home and with it all our
belongings.

But, thank goodness, the war was over and the family reunited
and we could start fresh, hard as that was. My wife and children often told me
about their flight. It would be too much to relate everything here, it is a
different story. I can only say: the misery and strain were almost barbarous
and have left lasting damage, especially with regard to their health.

I do not want to forget to mention that there were people who
stood by our side with helping hands in the midst of greatest misery and
bitterness. First, there was our former Polish farmhand, Heinrich Kolakovski,
who accompanied and helped my family on their westward flight for some time
after they had left house and farm with their belongings. For a Pole to do this
after the events of this war was more than philanthropic. And this is proven by
the fact that this man is still in touch with us so many years after these
events. Second, I would like to mention family Reineke in Ilsenburg. I do not
know them personally but my family found support and shelter with them when
they had to interrupt their flight after my daughter Ursula fell very ill.
These people, too, were in touch with us until their death. Mrs. Reineke, who
was adored by my daughter Ursula's family as Aunt Hannchen died in 1979 as a
widow. My daughter Hildegard was particularly involved in maintaining contact
with these people.

Now that we were finally reunited, we could not stay with
Cousin Alwine any longer. There simply was no room for five people. Luckily, my
cousin Alof Klabun who lived in Hilden-Bruchhausen knew how to help. He found
us a little apartment there and took my daughter Hildegard to live with him.
Now, at least, we had our own place and could attempt a new beginning. That
sounds pompous, given that it was the end of 1945. The war had only been over a
few months and everything lay in ruins. The misery was enormous all around. But
believe me, there is always a new beginning, if only you can find your courage.

In this almost hopeless situation at the time, one thing
played in my favor: my hard upbringing, full of privation that I experienced in
the expanses of Siberia; and secondly, my
parents’ example, for even in the most desperate situation, they defied
fate and made a virtue out of necessity. I want to add a warning to the young
people of today's generation: Life is a struggle for existence, not
consumption. It always pays to have the experience of older people and a hard
schooling in one's own childhood to fall back on during difficult times. I
always adhered to this wisdom.

Soon, I managed to lease a piece of land of about 10 acres
and an apartment with three rooms in Hilden.
Two and a half years later I bought a property with a house and 5 acres of
land, also in Hilden
– in Giessenheide.

Meanwhile, many more years have passed. Our wealth in our new
home grew with the pig fattening facility I built back then. My three children
are all long grown and married, and I have been a grandfather for some time. My
wife and I are lucky to call ourselves grandparents to seven grandchildren. And
I have become an old man, a retiree: I have handed over the management of my
business to my son Werner.

And so, my wife and I live for the moment, as much as our
health allows, and we are happy for each day God grants us. Today, as I narrate
the story of my life, I am in my 78th year, and so is my wife.

I can imagine that I may not have much time left. All in all,
I feel very at home here in Hilden
and I am content with what I have, not only in material things. After all, I
was very fortunate in that I was able to not only meet my own family but also
my parents and my brothers again – except for my brother Daniel who fell
in Russia.
Only, my parents are long dead, and so is my brother David. Adolf and his
family emigrated to the US
many years ago. Now, there are only my brothers Ephraim and Walter, who both
live nearby.

With this, I have reached the end of my story. I admit, it
was a life full of adventure and deprivation, and I enjoyed it. Often I thought
I cannot go on and the world will end. But the sun always came out again and I
found new courage. I have made this experience again and again in my life.
Given the number of my years, I now enjoy the evening of my life. Soon, the
gate to eternity will open for me. Where did the time go? I often ask, where?
Well, it sank to the bottom of the stream of life, nameless and over. All I
have left are my memories.

I want to thank you again for your patient listening.

 

Hilden, December 1980

Robert Kienert."

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr1

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17

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

По этой ссылке docplayer.ru/27907213-Rukovodstv … olyni.html
можно посмотреть «Руководство к розыску семей на Волыни».  Составители:
София Боденхейм, Гюнтер Хагенау, Ирене Копецке  (по состоянию 
на  14  марта  2002  года )  


Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, kijko, gennadii54083

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18

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Спогади Роберта Кинерта (Kienert) - конспективний переклад постів 15 та 16

Я народився 8 травня 1902 року в сім‘ї німців у Фасовій (Фасова?), селищі під Житомиром на Волині, біля північного кордону України.
Моя бабуся Доротея та дідусь Гайнріх приїхали до Росії з Західної Пруссії і отримали 100 десятин землі.
Дідусь відкрив олійницю та млин?
Батьки моєї матері на прізвище Цандерн (Zandern) жили в тому ж селі. Потім вони переїхали до Ємелівки? (Emelufke).
Від важкої праці дідусь помер у 65 років. Я тоді був ще дитиною. Пізніше, коли мені було 6-7 років, батько придбав землю в Пісерівці? (Piserufke) – це село приблизно в 10 км від Фасової. Потім він придбав землю в Андріївці (Anderejufke), де ми й залишилися.

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: kijko, gennadii54082

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19

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kbg_dnepr пишет:

Спогади Роберта Кинерта (Kienert) - конспективний переклад постів 15 та 16

Я народився 8 травня 1902 року в сім‘ї німців у Фасовій (Фасова?), селищі під Житомиром на Волині, біля північного кордону України.
Моя бабуся Доротея та дідусь Гайнріх приїхали до Росії з Західної Пруссії і отримали 100 десятин землі.
Дідусь відкрив олійницю та млин?
Батьки моєї матері на прізвище Цандерн (Zandern) жили в тому ж селі. Потім вони переїхали до Ємелівки? (Emelufke).
Від важкої праці дідусь помер у 65 років. Я тоді був ще дитиною. Пізніше, коли мені було 6-7 років, батько придбав землю в Пісерівці? (Piserufke) – це село приблизно в 10 км від Фасової. Потім він придбав землю в Андріївці (Anderejufke), де ми й залишилися.

Возможно вся эта история Роберта Кинерта касается и лично моей семьи, поскольку его внучка в Family Finder приходится мне 3rd-5th Cousin, а для моей сестры, после того как ей сделал аутосомный трансфер из 23andMe в FTDNA, вообще 2nd-4th Cousin.

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii5408, iromko3

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20

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Як цікаво! А вони йдуть на контакт?

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)

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21

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kbg_dnepr пишет:

Як цікаво! А вони йдуть на контакт?

Там все нормально и человек тоже пытается разобраться в своей генеалогии, но пока не так глубоко, как бы мне того хотелось. Кроме того, Family Finder показал, что у нас есть общие совпаденцы и они тоже немцы. У одной из них уровень родства со мной был показан как 3rd-5th Cousin, а с моей сестрой как 2nd-4th Cousin. Так вот у нее одна линия предков была из Gnidau, Луцк, Волынь, а другая из Польши, которые никогда на Волыни не были. Пока этим моим близким совпаденцам определить общего нашего предка не удалось и на данный момент у них нет даже пересечения по какой-нибудь известной им предковой фамилии. Скорее всего, мое с ними общие родство пришло с Польши, а не с Волыни. На сегодняшний день по той информации, которая у меня имеется из личной переписки с контактами из 23andMe и FTDNA, могу сказать, что мои немецкие предки двигались на Волынь двумя потоками. Одно направление и оно основное - это из провинции Позен (Posen)  https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%9F%D1 … 0%B5%D0%BD , а другое направление было из Данцига (Гданьск) из Западной Пруссии (West Prussia) https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/%D0%97%D0 … 0%B8%D1%8F . И это у меня уже второй случай, когда мои близкие совпаденцы, с которыми Family Finder показывает совместное родство, не могут отыскать общего предка. Там было проще, поскольку было известно, где искать, так как предки одного из моих совпаденцев на протяжении нескольких поколений жили в предместьях Плоцка, Польша https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/P%C5%82ock . И они не были поляками, так как у них были исключительно немецкие фамилии.

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii54082

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22

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Ну, ми ж шукаємо загального предка серед офіційної рідні, в завжди можуть бути якісь "неофіційні події" (NPE), а їх як знайдеш?

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)

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23 (07-03-2017 15:38:05 отредактировано kbg_dnepr)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Переклад постів 15 та 16. Продоження (ч. 2).

Нова садиба була чудовою, тут було три маленькі хати і маленька стайня. Одна хата була для робітників. Пізніше у другу хату переселилися батьки матері, а ми жили в третій.
Клімат на Волині м‘який. Життя не було таким комфортним, як тут, (солодкі?) пироги в нас були тільки зрідка у неділю, здебільшого це був штрейзель – це було все, що ми знали там.
Але ми всі їли достатньо. Завжди було багато м‘яса а ще більше фруктів. Ми їли їх влітку і взимку – їх дуже багато на Волині. Врожай теж майже завжди був багатий.  Фрукти сушили, робили цукати (candied) або консервували, то їх було вдосталь навіть взимку. Овочів було обмаль, їх майже ніколи не продавали, а вирощували для себе. Сіяли здебільшого зерно, як і тут, але також просо. Ми їли багато м‘яса – було багато свиней, коней, корів та дрібної рогатої худоби.


Колеги, як Вам такий опис харчування на Волині?
Чи є українське слово для штрейзеля - це пиріг з рос. кондитерской крошкой (перетерті цукор, масло, мука в пропорції 1:1:2). Може, тертий пиріг?

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: kijko, gennadii54082

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24

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kbg_dnepr пишет:

Ну, ми ж шукаємо загального предка серед офіційної рідні, в завжди можуть бути якісь "неофіційні події" (NPE), а їх як знайдеш?

От этого случая никто не застрахован и я его называю "случай ребенка от чужого мужчины". Если и был такой случай, так еще требуется определить, на каком из колен по предковой линии он произошел. Я далек от мысли, что такие случаи были по всем моим предковым линиям. Были ведь и такие, где по документам и по генетике все должно сходиться, не так ли?

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25

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Я десь бачила цифру 3%, тобто в 97% випадків папери та біологія співпадають. Але тут треба враховувати не тільки людську природу, але й соціальні чинники - як, наприклад, це було у випадку Т.Г. Шевченка, хтось з предків якого передав дітям не прізвище свого батька, а прізвище тестя. Плюс всиновлення - і вже буде, мабуть, процентів 15-20, коли ми шукаємо людину з одним прізвищем, а вона таки є, тільки під другим.

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)

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26

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

kbg_dnepr пишет:

Я десь бачила цифру 3%, тобто в 97% випадків папери та біологія співпадають.

Основная проблема здесь не подобные случаи, а отсутствие каких-либо документов вообще. Так как относительно близкие родственники встречаются в Family Finder FTDNA и Relative Finder 23andMe как 3rd-5th Cousins, то получается что общий предок жил в пределах 1780-1820 годов, а отыскать документы за тот период бывает очень затруднительно. Мне один мой совпаденец так и заявила, что по одному своему поколению предков, она так документов не нашла, а возможно то и было то самое связующее звено, которое и требовалось. Поэтому и нужно делать запросы по каждому контакту в FTDNA и 23andMe, чтобы в случае необходимости можно было восполнить возникающие генеалогические пробелы, так ведь и не все контакты отвечают, хотя некоторые из них имеют хорошо проработанные фамильные древа. Здесь нужно исходить из того, что какая информация имеется в наличии на данный момент, с тем и приходится работать. И шанс на то, что появится очень близкий совпаденец, который свяжет все воедино, всегда остается в силе.

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii54082

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27 (14-03-2017 11:15:08 отредактировано kbg_dnepr)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Переклад постів 15 та 16. Продоження (ч. 3)

У моїх спогадах це був зовсім непоганий час. Звісно, нам (мені і моїм молодшим братам Ефраїму, Даніелю, Давиду і Адольфу) доводилося тяжко працювати, допомагаючи батькам. Коли мені було 10 років, я часто мусив ганяти корів за 10-15 кілометрів, завжди 3 тварини на одній верьовці – це було зовсім нелегко.

У 1915 р., у першому році ПСВ всі німці отримали від німецького консулату наказ продати все і повернутися до Німеччини впродовж наступних 6 місяців. Дехто злякався того, що може бути, і виконав наказ консулату. Але багато хто лишився, як і ми. Батько сказав: «Давайте почекаємо і подивимось. Я впевнений, що нічого страшного не буде». Дуже багато людей думали саме так. Якби ми знали!..
10 липня 1915 р. ми отримали наказ від росіян лишити наші маєтки протягом 10 днів. Ми всі були в шоці і намагалися продати, що можна, за будь які гроші – корова за 5 або 6 рублів. Через 10 днів росіяни зробили обоз. На щастя, нам дозволили взяти коня та візок, куди ми склали все, що мало сенс брати з собою. І почалося переселення… Росіяни супроводжували наш обоз від села до села. Спочатку до Києва, потім через Chaniov (Харків???) до Саратова, більше 300 км на візку за 4 тижні. Наші страждання були безмежні. Без дому, без даху над головою, ми не могли ані варити їжу, ані митися нормально.  Плач дітей та стогін старих та хворих були жахливі. Їм було найгірше. Росіяни гнали нас далі й далі…

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: gennadii54081

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28 (14-03-2017 11:15:29 отредактировано kbg_dnepr)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Переклад постів 15 та 16. Продоження (ч. 4)

Тим часом стало дуже холодно. Якщо ви знаєте зиму в Росії, то ви розумієте, що це значить. Почалося велике вмирання. Ослаблені тижнями стресу та напруги, люди вмирали, як мухи. Старі, хворі та слабі не витримували. Страждання посилювалися та посилювалися.
В цій ситуації російський уряд надіслав новий наказ: вони зупинили нашу похоронну процесію та примусили нас продати або просто покинути коня та візок і все на ньому. Тепер у нас лишалося тільки те, що ми могли нести в руках.
Тепер наша подорож продовжувалася залізницею. Це була драма! І навіть неможливо уявити собі, що нас чекало в кінці!

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: gennadii5408, Т.В.2

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29

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Переклад постів 15 та 16. Продоження (ч. 5)

Росіяни зробили потяг з вагонів для скота і нас завантажили туди. Було вже пізно, всі стрімголов побігли у вагони – по-перше, було дуже холодно, а по-друге, було сподівання, що тепер нещастя швидко закінчиться. Росіяни поставили у вагони буржуйки та дрова, то ми принаймні хоч якось могли захиститися від холоду, але це було все. Людям потрібне полегшення час від часу, особливо маленьким дітям та жінкам, яким особливо потрібна гігієна. Але можливості митися не було. Все, що в нас було в якості туалету, то цеберко, яке виливали кожного разу, як потяг зупинявся. Сморід був страшенний, як ви можете уявити. Але це нікого не хвилювало. Росіяни просто зачиняли двері і більше ні про що не турбувалися. Не дивно, що сморід та бруд у вагонах з часом ставали все більшими.
Настала ніч. Темрява і холод додавали страху та жалоби. Незважаючи на буржуйки, було дуже холодно. Потяг ще довго стояв на станції. Батьки моєї матері, Цандерси, потрапили у вагон позаду нашого.
Поїзд рушив десь близько 4 ранку.
Ніхто не знав, куди нас везуть. Більшість людей спало – що ще можна було робити?

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: gennadii54081

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30 (18-03-2017 14:08:19 отредактировано kbg_dnepr)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Переклад постів 15 та 16. Продоження (ч. 6)

Потяг їхав годину за годиною, ми втратили почуття часу. Нарешті ми зупинилися, росіяни прийшли та відчинили двері. Була четверта година дня, нам дозволили вийти, розім’ятися, взяти дрова та води. Батько відразу пішов до вагону, де були батьки матері, Цандерси. Та сталося жахливе: росіяни просто відчепили вагон, де вони були, або просто залишили його десь. Замість нього вони причепили вагон з російськими біженцями з фронту. Ми більше ніколи не бачили Цандерсів. Тільки через багато років після довгих пошуків ми дізналися, що їх відправили до Ташкенту або Самарканду, кудись на китайський кордон. Там вони пізніше й померли майже одночасно. Ми були дуже вражені цією втратою. Звісно, що війна приносить багато таких розлучень, але це не полегшує кожну з них.

Росіяни не дали нам часу поговорити. Ми повинні були йти по своїх вагонах, і подорож продовжувалася. Через приблизно 3 тижні – впродовж них ми часто стояли день або два на запасних коліях – ми прибули в Челябінськ. Тут нас теж просто залишили на запасній колії і просто забули. В кожному вагоні було приблизно 50 людей – ви можете уявити собі, що там діялось!
Ми вже стояли тиждень, коли батько просто пішов до росіян і спитав, чи ми не могли би залишитися тут. На його здивування, вони сказали «Так, можете залишитися». Нарешті страждання закінчилися і ми знову могли взяти нашу долю у власні руки.

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)
Спасибо сказали: gennadii54081

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31 (22-10-2017 20:06:04 отредактировано kijko)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

В моей ситуации вскрылись новые обстоятельства и сама идея поиска родителей
моей бабушки стала наполняться содержимым, где будет переход от ДНК-тестирования
к документальной генеалогии. Саму ветку возможно придется переименовывать во что-то
иное, так как родители моей бабушки могут оказаться не из Волыни, а из какого-нибудь немецкого
поселения в Одессе или Мариуполе. Естественно, я сейчас не знаю, какими будут результаты
моего исследования, я всего лишь делаю то, что должен сделать. Поиск предков моей бабушки
приобрел направление и реальное очертание и уже стал вопросом времени, денег и стечения
благоприятных обстоятельств. Все началось с того, что я сделал перевод результатов моего
ДНК-теста из FTDNA в MyHeritage. Изначально там было много совпаденцев, затем они все исчезли
на долгое время. И вот в июле этого года у меня появляется всего один совпаденец, который
определяется как 1st cousin twice removed - 4th cousin: Shared DNA 1,1% (82,6 cM),
Shared segments 3, Largest segment 45,6 cM. Зовут девушку Аника и она - немка из Киля.
В то время это было самое близкое генетическое совпадение, которое мне стало известно
путем ДНК-теста. Мои близкие родственники, которым я делал генетические тесты здесь в
расчет не принимаются. Через две недели появляется новый совпаденец - это мама Аники
и по ней родство уже определяется как 1st cousin twice removed - 3rd cousin once removed:
Shared DNA 1,3% (92,6 cM), Shared segments1, Largest segment 92,6 cM. Такой уровень родства
как 3rd cousin, мама Аники приходится мне четерехюродной сестрой, означает что наш общий
предок родился в 1810-1830 годах. И самое главное у Аники есть генеалогическое дерево, которое
обрывается в Польше на уровне дедушек и бабушек ее мамы. Известные предковые фамилии: Krahn,
Gerdel, Wagner и Fergin, населенные пункты Варшава, Лодзь и Плонск. То есть мне для того, чтобы
выйти на моих предков нужно по ее фамильному дереву подняться вверх на два поколения и это
не так много. Осталось только определить какая из четырех предковых линий мамы Аники
является моей.

http://fs1.directupload.net/images/171022/7h9zkpt6.png

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii54082

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32 (22-10-2017 20:07:26 отредактировано kijko)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Это близкое совпадение, но ведь есть и дальнее 3rd-5th Cousin как шестиюродное родство и как
показывает Gedmatch мы втроем имеем общих предков. Благодаря тому, что тот второй совпаденец,
буду называть его Питер, протестировал ДНК множества своих родственников, удалось определить
его предковую линию через которую идет его родство со мной и мамой Аники. Известные предковые
фамилии: Arendt /Arndt, Breitkreutz, Fiedler, Fregin, Kramer и Kulbarsch, населенный пункт тоже в Польше
и он один - это Плоцк. Сразу замечу, что между Плонском, одним из предковых населенных пунктов
мамы Аники, и Плоцком расстояние всего 50 километров. Картина получается следующая: с одной
стороны предковые фамилии мамы Аники: Krahn, Gerdel, Wagner, Fergin, а с другой стороны предковые
фамилии Питера: Arendt /Arndt, Breitkreutz, Fiedler, Fregin, Kramer, Kulbarsch и они должны пересекаться
на моих предках. Пока навскидку можно выделить пару Fergin/Fregin, которая может оказаться одной
и той же предковой фамилией и на которой нужно сосредоточить свой поиск.


http://fs5.directupload.net/images/171022/lbxcgf35.png

Спасибо сказали: gennadii54081

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33 (22-10-2017 20:08:49 отредактировано kijko)

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Мое предполагаемое четвероюродное родство с мамой Аники означает, что один из
ее предков, а именно Gustav Krahn (1899-1950), Leokadia Gerdel (1900-?),
Johann Wagner (до 1900-?), Emilie Fergin (1887-1955), был двоюродным братом или сестрой
моей бабушки. Она родилась в 1908 году и этой цифре можно приблизительно верить, так
как мой дедушка Мусий Кийко, ее муж, родился в 1902 году. Сейчас генеалогический поиск
одной из моих предковых линий ведется в треугольнике Варшава-Лодзь-Плоцк.


http://fs5.directupload.net/images/171022/9f3oh86g.png

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii54082

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34

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Для определения направления в документальном поиске предков, кто был лютеранином и кто проживал
в Польше, имеет смысл ознакомиться со следующим источником информации "Lutheran Records in
Russian Poland" https://www.sggee.org/research/parishes … oland.html и научиться пользоваться metryki.genealodzy.pl
metryki.genealodzy.pl/metryki.php и szukajwarchiwach.pl www.szukajwarchiwach.pl/ .
Все документы с 1866 по 1915 годы на русском языке.

Спасибо сказали: kbg_dnepr, gennadii54082

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35

Re: Німці Волині / Немцы Волыни / Deutsche in Wolhynien

Пане kijko, я б радила назву теми не поспішати міняти, а подумати про це, коли вже все буде ясно.

Пошук предків: Глушак (Брянськ.) Ковальов Федосенко (Могилевськ.)
Оглотков (Горбат. п. НГГ) Алькин Душин Жарков Кульдішов Баландин (Симб. губ.)
Клишкін Власенко Сакунов Кучерявенко (Глухів)
Кириченко Бондаренко Білоус Страшний (Новомоск. Дніпроп.)

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