The Death Tolls

A meticulous written record was made of the death tolls on what was called "Schreckenstage" ("Terror-Days" in German) by my Mennonite ancestors in the Zagradovka Colony. The lists of those killed by Nestor Makhno and his bloodthirsty militia are grouped by village, and the manner in which they were slain was also documented. Some names may appear to be duplicates, but each listing is a different person. It was very common for firstborn sons to be named after their father, or for that matter, to be named after someone else in the extended family.

Despite their attempts at accuracy, at least three dozen missing were never found, most of which were from Muensterberg. That village had a population of about 100, and of those, only one woman and one other family survived, the latter of which hid inside their chimney. The village was almost entirely burned, and many remains could not be recovered or identified. Today, the outlines of building foundations at what was once Muensterberg can still be seen in Google Earth or other mapping programs at coordinates  47°32'0.64"N  33°16'10.15"E ...now the ruins serve as gravestones to the missing. Of the more than 230 victims of the Terror-Days, below is the list of casualties they were able to identify.

          November 29, 1919, Gnadenfeld:

1. Gerhard Schellenberg Sr – shot
2. Peter Wiebe Sr – shot
3. David Koehn – shot and burned
4. Abram Isaak – shot
5. Johann Wiebe – shot
6. Peter J. Koop – murdered in a Russian village
7. Abram Warkentin – murdered in a Russian village
8. Johann Kliewer – shot
9. Johann Klassen – shot
10. Gerhard Wiebe – chopped to pieces
11. Johann Doerksen – chopped to pieces
12. unknown non-Mennonite – chopped, shot, and burned 
    
    
    November 29, 1919, Reinfeld: 
13. Herman Bahnmann – slaughtered
14. Heinrich Epp – shot and burned
15. his wife, Elizabeth Epp – shot and burned
16. their infant daughter Liese – shot and burned
17. their daughter Katharina – shot and burned
18. Aaron Epp – chopped to pieces
19. Kornelius Warkentin – chopped and burned on a haystack
20. Heinrich Koop – chopped and shot
21. Peter Funk – shot
22. Abram Funk – shot
23. Johann Klassen – shot and chopped on the oven bench
24. Mrs. Klassen – chopped
25. Peter Boschmann – shot
26. Gerhard Boschmann – burned
27. Peter Bahnmann – chopped, shot, and burned
28. Mrs. Jakob Reimer – shot
    
    
     November 29, 1919, Orloff:
29. Heinrich Wiens (age 62) – shot
30. Rev. Peter Martens – shot
31. Wilhelm Peter Martens – chopped
32. Abram Walde – chopped, died slowly
33. Kornelius Nickel – shot
34. Peter Isaak – chopped and shot
35. Isbrand Friesen (visiting from Schoenau) shot and burned
36. Jakob H. Wiens – shot
37. Jakob Klassen – shot through the head
38. Nikolai Harder – chopped to pieces
39. Johann Lammert – chopped to pieces
40. Jakob Koehn of Altonau – shot
41. Peter Koehn of Altonau – shot
42. Diedrich Neufeld Sr – shot
43. Johann D. Neufeld – chopped and shot
44. Heinrich Wiebe Sr (age 73) chopped and stabbed in bed
45. Jakob H. Wiebe – chopped and shot
46. Jakob J. Wiebe Jr – shot
47. Jakob Adrian Sr – shot
48. Abram Walde (age 75) – shot
49. Wilhelm Fr. Martens – shot through the heart
50. Gerhard Wall (age 77) – shot while sitting in a chair
51. Johann Peters – shot and burned
52. Heinrich Wall – shot and burned
53. Peter Wiebe – chopped to pieces in bed
54. Mrs. Peter Wiebe – chopped to pieces in bed
55. Heinrich Neufeld (teacher) – shot in schoolroom
56. Johann Toews (teacher) – shot in schoolroom
57. August Penner – chopped
58. Heinrich D. Jager of Tiege (young student) – chopped
59. Wilhelm Peters – slaughtered with a saber
60. Liese Lammert – chopped to pieces
61. Jakob W. Penner (sick with typhoid fever) – chopped in bed
62. Johann Heinrichs – shot
63. Wilhelm Penner – chopped
64. David Block – chopped
65. Johann Siemens – shot
66. Kornelius Willms of Tiege – perished from wounds
67. Maria Reimer – chopped
68. Heinrich P. Siemens – shot and burned
69. Rev. Jakob T. Friesen – decapitated
70. Jakob Heinrich Duerksen of Neuhalbstadt (young student) – chopped
71. Johann W. Martens (age 73) – hands torn apart by mushrooming bullet, died 6 days later
72. Peter Klassen – sword wounds to head, died slowly
73. Gerhard G. Bargen of Alexanderfeld (student) – chopped 21 times, suffered long before death
    
    
     November 29, 1919, Tiege:
74. Johann Giesbrecht Sr – shot
75. Gerhard Schroeter – chopped
76. Peter Buller – chopped
77. Rev. Wilhelm Duekmann – chopped and shot
78. Jakob Braun – chopped, stabbed, and shot
79. Franz F. Klassen (teacher) – shot
80. Heinrich Isaak – shot
81. Heinrich de Fehr of Altonau – shot
82. Abram P. Dyck – chopped and burned
83. Olga – servant of Apothecary A. Gauderer – shot
84. Heinrich Friesen – shot
85. Isaak Tschetter (a miller) – shot
86. Isaac de Jager – shot
87. Johann Krause – chopped and shot
88. Peter Lammert – chopped and shot
89. Johann J. Martens – shot
90. Heinrich A. Fast – shot
    
    
    November 29, 1919, Muensterberg:
91. Abraham Reimer – chopped and burned
92. his wife, Emilie Reimer – died from a heart attack
93. their son Gerhard – chopped with a saber
94. their son Willie – chopped with a saber
95. their daughter Emilie – chopped with a saber
96. Johann Friesen – chopped and shot
97. Jakob Duekmann – chopped and shot
98. his wife, Maria Duekmann – chopped and shot
99. their son, Jacob – chopped and shot
100. their daughter Maria – chopped and shot
101. their son Peter – chopped and shot
102. Peter P. Goossen – chopped and burned
103. his wife, Maria Goossen – chopped and burned
104. Rev. Abraham Regehr – chopped and burned
105. his wife, Helene Regehr – chopped and burned
106. Johann A. Regehr – chopped and burned
107. his wife, Helene Regehr – chopped and burned
108. their infant daughter Lena (14 days old) burned alive in her cradle
109. Sarah A. Warkentin of Friedensfeld – chopped
110. Wilhelm Jakob Martens – chopped and burned
111. his son Jakob – chopped and burned
112. his son Kornelius – choppped and burned
113. his son Heinrich – chopped and burned
114. his daughter Mariechen – chopped and burned
115. his daughter Sarah – chopped, suffered for many days before dying
116. Heinrich P. Thiessen – chopped and burned
117. his wife, Maria Thiessen – chopped and burned
118. all their children, Helene – chopped and burned
119. Heinrich – chopped and burned
120. Anna – chopped and burned
121. Peter – chopped and burned
122. Aaron – chopped and burned
123. Maria – chopped and burned
124. Maria Martens nee Peters – chopped and burned
125. her son Willie – chopped and burned
126. her son Johann – chopped and burned
127. her daughter Anna – chopped and burned
128. her daughter Helene – chopped and burned
129. her son Jakob – chopped and burned
130. her daughter Mariechen – chopped and burned
131. Johann Wiebe – chopped and burned
132. his wife, Katharina Wiebe – chopped and burned
133. their daughter Helene – chopped and burned
134. Jakob A. Regehr – chopped and burned
135. his wife, Maria Regehr nee Toews – chopped and burned
136. their son Abraham – chopped and burned
137. their daughter Liese – chopped and burned
138. their daughter Lenchen – chopped and burned
139. their son Jakob – chopped and burned
140. their daughter Margaretha – chopped and burned
141. their daughter Tinchen – chopped and burned
142. Bernhard Langermann – chopped and burned
143. his wife, Maria nee Reimer – chopped and burned
144. their son Johann – chopped and burned
145. their son Gerhard – chopped and burned
146. their daughter Elisabeth – chopped and burned
147. their daughter Anna – chopped and burned
148. Daniel P. Goossen – chopped and burned
149. his wife, Maria Goossen – chopped and burned
150. Heinrich Ott – chopped and burned
151. his wife Anna Ott – escaped to Shestirnya, but were slain and eaten by dogs & pigs
152. Katharina Wolf – escaped to Shestirnya, but were slain and eaten by dogs & pigs
153. Heinrich Wolf – chopped in Shestirnya
154. Johann Wiebe – chopped and burned
155. Gerhard Bergen – chopped and burned
156. his wife, Anna Bergen – chopped and burned
157. Heinrich Enns – chopped and burned
158. Rev. Jakob J. Wiens – chopped and burned
159. Peter Johann Wiebe – chopped and burned
160. Peter Goossen Sr – chopped and burned
161. Katharina Klippenstein nee Goossen – chopped and burned
162. Helene Klippenstein – chopped and burned
163. Gerhard Reimer Sr – chopped and burned
164. his wife, Mrs. Reimer – chopped and burned
165. their daughter Katharina – chopped in the street
166. Gerhard Friesen (an infant) – burned alive in the cradle
167. Gerhard Goossen – chopped and burned
168. Peter P. Goossen Jr – chopped
169. Grandmother widow Giesbrecht – chopped and burned
170. Bernhard Giesbrecht – chopped and burned
171. his wife, Mrs. Giesbrecht – chopped and burned
172. their son Bernhard – chopped and burned
173. their daughter Elisabeth – chopped and burned
174. their daughter Anna – chopped and burned
175. widow Huebert – chopped in a Russian village
176. Abram A. Friesen – chopped in a Russian village
177. Friedrich Wunsch – chopped in Shestirnya and eaten by dogs
178. David Nickel – chopped and burned
179. Johann Nickel – chopped and burned
180. Heinrich Nickel – chopped and burned
181. Johann D. Martens (teacher) – chopped and burned
182. Klaas Enns – chopped and burned
183. Katharina D. Friesen (infant) – killed while suckling (mother survived her wounds)
184. Heinrich Buegler – chopped
185. widow Klippenstein – died of a heart attack
186. Abraham Schwarz – chopped
187. Kornelius Klippenstein – missing without a trace
     
     
     December 1, 1919, Schoenau:
188. Jakob Neufeld
189. Johann Pauls
190. Rev. Martin Hamm – chopped and shot
191. Jakob Unruh Sr
192. Mrs. Unruh
193. Jakob Nickel Sr
194. Johann Wiebe – abused and shot
195. Jakob Wiebe – abused and shot
196. Franz of Reisen
197. Abraham Franz
198. Franz Nickel
199. Abram Quiring – shot a few days later on the street
     
     
     February, 1920, Neu Schoensee:
200. Jakob D. Janzen – shot in a surprise night attack
     
     
     August, 1922, Blumenort:
201. Franz Kroeker – slain on his way to town
202. Abram Wiebe – beaten, choked with reins
203. Johann Goertzen – beaten, choked with reins
204. his son – beaten, choked with reins
     
     
     
     

 "Mass grave in Orloff, holding 58 bodies" (although Orloff suffered only 45 casualties, others may have likely been brought there because of its centralized location in the colony.) The grave was approximately 77 feet long. The bottom of the grave was lined with straw, and another layer of straw was blanketed over those laid to rest before they were buried.

Orloff is one of the few villages in the Zagradovka Colony that still has the same name today, though the Ukrainians adjusted the spelling to "Orlove." Of course, Zagradovka is now "Zahradivka" and lies just 4.5 miles northeast of Orlove. I wonder if the Ukrainian citizens today are aware of their local history, and the events that took place there a lifetime ago.

The Attack on Orloff

The following memoir of Abram Walde captures in ghastly detail another story of the same attacks on the Zagradovka Colony on November 29th 1919, as he bore witness to the cruel fate of my great great great grandfather, Peter Isaak.

MEMORIES OF DAYS OF TERROR

by Abram Walde (1900-1980)

It was in the year 1919. The Civil War was raging in Russia. The hosts of the White Army had penetrated far into the north, and in the occupied zone the punishing of war criminals was being carried out. Many an innocent Russian suffered an unjust punishment. This, and other unwise dealing of the White Army aroused severe bitterness in the populace.

In the north, bands of Ukrainians under the leadership of Nestor Makhno, had joined the ranks of the Red Army against the White forces. In the late summer of 1919, the Makhno bands managed to break through the ranks of the White Army. Burning and killing, these hordes flooded through the Ukraine. Ruffians, idlers, and those who were embittered flocked into his hosts, and in a short time he had a following of not less than 80,000 strong.

It was not long before terrifying reports were circulating. Eichenfeld has been massacred! - Heuboden has suffered the same fate! - Krivoy-Rog has been invaded and is occupied by Makhno! - Ekaterinoslav is in turmoil! As yet the villages of the Sagradowka Colony have been spared from their forays.

It was late fall 1919. Dense fog covered the fields. The streets were a mass of deep mud and nearly impassable. The village farmers are in an agitated mood. Everywhere they can be seen standing in small groups at the fences. The reports of the evil deeds of the Makhno are increasing and his bands are progressively coming nearer and nearer. Yesterday two of our villages, Rosenort and Altonau were visited by the bands. Nothing drastic had been done there, but they had promised to return!

Some refugees from Altonau are arriving. They do not trust the situation in their village, hoping rather to find greater safety in our village, Orloff. It has come to be noon. The farmers separate from each other. Father also comes home and we gather for diner.

"How does it look, Father?!"

"Not good. There are still some who wish to defend themselves."

Soon after dinner, a visitor, a school friend from the neighboring village, comes to see me. We cross the street to the A. Penner residence. Soon we hear some commotion on the street and we go to investigate.

There from the north they come – wagon after wagon. The entire street is full of them, and everywhere they are turning in to the yards.

We hurry to get across the street. My friend runs for the garden right away, and I enter the house.

Already there is a terrible clattering in the front porch. Father and I go to see.

"Your money!" screams one villain, and immediately follows us into the house. Then he spies a clothes closet and begin digging around in it. I see that he has my clothes on his arm and ask him to give them back to me. "There, take them," he says, jumps on his horse and rides away.

"Let us be glad, and thank God, if this is all it will be," says Father.

We look out upon the street. A band of riders comes galloping in from the south, and confusion seems to result on the street. Several riders enter the yard of A. Penner. Penner approaches them.

"Penner is being stabbed!" cries Father, "Penner is falling!"

We hear a sudden racket on the front porch and go to investigate. With drawn bayonets they come upon us. "Don't move" they scream, "Hand over your money." Father tells them that his money has already been taken. "Hand over your money!"

Slowly we retreat into the back room and into a bedroom. Here a bandit is digging through a closet. He stands up as he becomes aware of us.

"Let the young one live – take the old man along," he commands and resumes his search. I am taken to a corner room and made to sit on a chair. Father is led away. The house is in a state of riot. They dig through everything. From the street to sound of rifle and machine-gun fire is almost continuous.

Suddenly the villain holds his revolver in front of my eyes!

"Do you know what this is?"

"Yes, I know."

"Do you know what it's for?"

"Yes, I know."

Then he spies a basket of buns that has been left there by Mother. He grabs one and begins to eat. Then he throws one to me.

"Here, eat!" I eat.

He continues to eat, but his eyes are always focused on me. Nothing good is to be seen in those eyes. He pulls out his saber

"Do you know what this is?"

"Yes."

"Do you know what it is for?" "Yes"

"There you have it!"

I brace myself. It is only a blow with the side. He goes off. I begin to breathe again. In a few moments he is back and holds his revolver in front of me. He goes away – and comes back – how many times I cannot remember.

Then it becomes quiet in the house. I raise myself and see a neighbor, Peter Isaak running into our garden. One arm dangles at his side. He falls down under a tree. A bandit on the street sees this, comes to him, and shoots him in the forehead. His brains gush out. Chickens come and peck at the wound.

A creeping horror comes over me. I cry to God – the Lord has mercy! On the street the rearguard passes by with the Black Flag. I look out into the yard and see two horses still standing there. A few moments later I look again, and the horses are gone.

Slowly I dare to move from the corner room. It is so quiet in the house. I come into the barn. There stands Father in the back of the barn leaning against a post. As I come to him, he removes a cloth that he has been holding around his face - his lower jaw has been blown apart by a shot. I take him by the arm and help him into the machine shed. In the carriage I find a pillow and lay him on it. Then I kneel beside him.

"Father, where are Mother and the children?"

Almost inaudible is the answer, "I do not know."

"Father, you are going into the eternal rest?"

"Yes."

Then I hear voices. They are Mother and the younger family members. I go to meet them and bring them to Father. We lift him up. He is very weak. Mother and I each hold him by an arm and help him into the bunkhouse, where Father's sister, Mrs. Heinrich Neufeld and her husband live. We hope that we will find more order there for our house is in a terrible mess. Mrs. Neufeld has already done some straightening out. We lay Father on a bed, and Mother takes her place at his side.

Mrs. Neufeld continues to cast worried looks out the window to the street. Her husband, who is principal of Orloff High School, has not returned. The children have come home and they know only that their father was detained at the school, and then taken to the elementary school. A few hours later the news comes to us that he was shot to death.

I go out into the yard. Our straw-stacks are on fire. At the neighbors they are also burning. All around one sees fire. I go into the garden. There lies our neighbor. We cannot let the body lie like that overnight! I seek for help, and on his yard I meet his son.

"Your father is lying in our garden. Come let us carry him into our kitchen. But his eyes are turned to their house. There is fire in the house, and it is quickly filling with smoke. He feels sure that there are still some persons in the house.

Then I hear voices on the street in our Low German Dialect. I go to them. Several men have gathered together and are going through the village to remove the corpses. The dead are lying everywhere, on the street, along the fences, in the gardens. We carry the neighbor's body into our house. I go into the barn again and mechanically feed the livestock. My brother Hans is suddenly on my mind. I haven't seen him around anywhere. I go to Mother who is still sitting at Father's bedside. "Where is Hans?" She does not know. I go out and brood over it. The horse he liked best is missing. It is likely that he has ridden away and possibly fallen victim to the Makhno bands.

I come to the neighbor's yard again. The house is standing there in brilliant flames. One of his sons has broken a window and called in, in case someone was still inside. A Mr. Isbrand Friesen from Schoenau had been visiting the Isaaks. Later we found his remains in the ashes. It is likely that he had been shot to death in the house. We try to save something from the fire. Then I return to my home again.

Mrs. Neufeld has supper ready, and then wants us all to go to bed. But sleep will not come. There is a knock at the door. I jump up. My friend, who visited me in the afternoon is there.

"How did you manage to stay alive?" I ask him.

"I ran behind the garden to the Wiebe's where my parents were at the time. I saw several bandits in the garden so I quickly hid in a bush and thus was not found. At Penner's the barn is on fire. They are trying to save the house. Come, let us help.”

We go over and help for a while. The barn burned to the ground but the house remained. The next morning my grandmother comes over. Grandfather and Uncle Wilhelm have both been shot to death. Shortly, some people from the neighboring village arrive on the scene. Rev. Johann Voth, a bishop, comes to visit Father. Uncle Franz comes also. During the time that they are with us, Father dies. We take him from his bed and wash him as best we can. Mother has found some clean clothing for him and we dress him in these. Uncle Frank notices a stab wound in his neck.

"This alone, " he remarks, "would be sufficient to kill a person." We then carry the body into our house.

I go out to the village. Fire everywhere. It looks so sinister. I come to the village school. Uncle Heinrich Neufeld should be there. Mr. Wiebe, a teacher, leads me into one of the rooms. There lie the teachers, Neufeld and John Toews, both dead. Mr. Wiebe pulls back somewhat on Neufeld's coat revealing a small blood spot in the heart area – otherwise no wounds. I turn back again. As I near the W. Penner yard, Mrs. Penner calls out to me,

"Come and see!" She leads me to one of the out buildings. There

[A line is missing here on my copy of the story]

As I arrive at my home again, my brother Hans appears. He had indeed ridden away, had been captured by one of the Makhno bands, but had escaped again. He had spent the night in a neighboring village. Afternoon, orders were given to dig a grave. Several young men from the next village have come to help. A dense fog still shrouds the fields. Several horsemen are patrolling the exits of the village. The Makhno band has apparently taken up quarters in one of the Russian villages, not far away. They could appear again at a moments notice. We dig as quickly as possible so that our dead may be buried without delay.

Suddenly we hear, "They are coming!" Like startled wild animals we all run into the fields and gather together in a corn patch. Nothing is to be seen of the village so we listen intently. There is nothing to be heard. We wait. Many a person kneels down and utters a prayer. Everything remains quiet. Slowly and with great care we return. It was a false alarm.

Again we return to work, but we are unable to complete the grave, and must continue on the next morning. It is Sunday. The dense fog still covers the fields. In due time we resume work on the grave and by noon the task is done. Some straw is put on the grave floor on which the dead are to be laid. The funeral is held in the afternoon. One after the other, the dead are brought, and in the order in which come, they are laid in the grave. Forty-five lie in this grave, mostly farmers, but also some teachers, students and servants. Rev. Jakob Janzen gives a funeral address and prays with us. Slowly, we all depart from the graveyard.

93rd Anniversary

The purpose of this blog is to create awareness of the genocide that occurred against my ancestors, who were citizens of Imperial Russia, though they were of German descent, and living in "South Russia" which is today known as the country of Ukraine. What was most unique about them is that they were Mennonites: peaceful Christians who led lives very similar to the Amish, believing in hard work, strong faith, and dedicated to freedom and nonviolence. They lived in tight communities: clusters of villages referred to as colonies. In these colonies, they would not intermarry with Russians, only other Mennonites of German descent. It goes without saying that citizens in each colony were closely related, and many Mennonites were related to those in other colonies as well.

93 years ago to the day of this posting, one of their colonies was brutally attacked by a militant anarchist named Nestor Makhno, who had a particular hatred for Mennonites. In a time where Russia was extremely unstable, the Imperial White Army was fighting a civil war against the Red Army, and there was widespread government and societal collapse. The Mennonites were mostly unaffected because they lived relatively isolated lives and kept out of politics. They were wealthier than most of their fellow countrymen, largely due to their simple lives and strong moral values such as modesty and temperance. In a way, they were victims of their own success.

Heritage is another strong value of the Mennonites. They believe it is important to know your lineage and many of them preserved their family histories in memoirs and journals. I have the journals of several of my Mennonite ancestors as well as several journals from their relatives. I am going to share the journal of Elizabeth Bargen, who was an aunt of one of my ancestors. I am going to transcribe it as true to her own words as possible. If you read it with a German accent in mind, some of the awkwardly translated parts might make better sense, as her native language was Low German, her second language was Russian and possibly Ukrainian, and her third language would eventually have been English after the survivors fled to Canada and America.

The village names described in the journal are mostly Mennonite villages inside the Zagradovka Colony. Zagradovka itself has many spelling variations today, due to the different spoken languages and written alphabets. I prefer to use the most common spelling, with others ranging from the Germanic Sagradowka to the contemporary Ukrainian Zahradivka, which is still there today on the eastern shores of the Ingulets River. Most old Mennonite villages are there as Ukrainian villages today, repopulated by Ukrainians and renamed after the Stalinist Purges a dozen years after these events take place.

That should be enough of the background story for a bit of context, so let us listen to Mrs. Bargen:
***
On the 28th of November, 1919, we had butchered two pigs. There was plenty of every kind of meat. Both my parents and my husband's parents, as well as our neighbor, John Martens, came to help us butcher. There had been much talk of murder and violence that I was so excited and began to feel sick and weak.

My parents, K. Regehr, went home for the night. My husband's parents, Peter Bargen, stayed night at our place. They thought it would be safer here in Tiege than in Altonau. In Altonau, many strange riders had already been seen during the day. These riders had told the people that Altonau would receive some visitors. Before my parents left for home, we read Psalms 91 and prayed together.

The night was peaceful, but the next day which was November 29th was the most dreadful day of our lives. In the morning, I took a liver sausage and some spare ribs to our neighbor, the Martens. He had ordered some meat. Mrs. Martens met me and seemed very scared. She told me that she had not slept all night. Mr. Martens hadn't even undressed for the night. When I entered the room, Mr. Martens began to cry and said,
"Today is my birthday, but I'm going to be murdered today. They'll come and kill me!" I begged him to call Minister Frank Klassen who could comfort him and would pray with him. Rev. Klassen was at the Martens's home that afternoon.

As I walked home, a great number of our neighbors were standing in our street, old and young, and were exchanging their fears with each other. Soon after that, father Bargen left for home. Mother stayed with us. My husband dressed in his worst clothes in order that the robbers would think of him as a poor man and not rich. On his feet, he wore some wooden slippers which he hadn't worn for years. Mother and I cleared away the meat while the 15 year old nursemaid Rosa played with the children and our housemaid Pauline cooked us some coffee.

Frank, my husband, came into the house and told us that they were already murdering and robbing in Gnadenfeld. Towards evening I undressed the children and put them to bed. Frankie, our little son, was only two years old, and Lizie, our daughter, was nine months. The housemaid went out to milk the cows, and the nursemaid was going to set the table for the evening meal when a man entered our house. He came in running and his face was deathly white as he said,
"Now they are here! They came from Orloff. It is burning!" He had barely uttered the words when our yard and house were full of the bandits. There were so many that they stood and walked close to each other. They looked like the devil himself. They were covered with filth and blood. Many carried their bare swords in their hands that were still dripping with blood! On some we saw icicles of frozen clotted blood.

David Wiens of Steinfeld lived in our summer kitchen. Wiens, who was seeking his wife, pressed through the band of robbers into the kitchen. They yelled at him thinking he was host of this house. In his anxiety, Wiens said,
"I am not host, he is," pointing to my husband who was standing next to me.

These demonic men pulled my husband from my side and two men began wielding their blood splattered swords at him. One who was quite drunk, yelled time and again,
"I'll knock your head off!" He would wield his sword again, but never hit him. All he did was chop big holes into the wall. Frank didn't say a word. I had my baby, already in her night clothes, in my arms and our son by the hand. I stood there and witnessed this terrible scene which I will never forget. Our son walked up to one of the murderers and tried to take his gun. He said,
"Give that here, that's my dad's!" The men put his sword to the boy's back and said to his companion,
"Kill the little one. He will only grow up to be our enemy," but the man stroked Frankie's head and answered,
"Let the little boy live."

While all this was going on, my husband had left the room. Because he was dressed so poorly, they thought him to be a worker and let him walk out. One man even told him to go and hide, for they were going to murder everyone. Frank took off his slippers and walked into the garden on stocking feet and escaped in the direction of Nikolaifeld.

From me the robbers demanded money and gold. They took me from room to room by poking their bloody swords at me. All at once, one of the men grabbed my baby out of my arms and hurled her across the room. She gave one cry and then lay still. I thought she was dead. In the meantime, I had lost track of my son and couldn't see him anywhere.

Then with much cursing and pushing me around with their swords, they wanted me to fulfill their desires. If I wouldn't, they would chop me to pieces. I told them they could kill me but first they should kill my children. Then my mother-in-law, Maria Bargen [nee Martens] stepped in and begged the men to leave me alone because I was sick. They turned their attention to mother and began beating her. They forgot me, so I went and picked up my baby. She was blue and limp. I pressed myself through the band of men into the entry. Here, one man handed me my son and winked towards the door. That is, I should get out. I took my children and pressed through the cursing troop and came out into the open.

While these men were harassing me in the house, I saw how they slashed Mr. Martens across the chest as I looked out of our window. After a few more strokes with the sword, the robber pulled a short gun from his pocket and shot him. Later I heard he was shot with an explosive shell.

As I emerged into the open, the two maids called me from the pig pen which was built onto the shed. Here is where they had been hiding. There among the pigs and mire which almost reached our knees, my baby regained consciousness and began to cry pitifully. There was one window towards the shed in which a great number of bandits were milling around. They would have seen us had they only looked through the hole, but God kept his protecting hand over us.

It was very cold in this pig pen so that the mud around us got quite stiff during the night. I took off my dress and petticoat and wrapped my crying baby in them. By now, both children and both maids were crying. Inside the shed was such heathenish noise that they didn't hear us. Oh, how we prayed to God there, among all this dirt. The children fell asleep but we three sat there shaking and faint hearted.

Soon we heard some loud cursing and moaning in the shed. I was afraid it was my husband they were molesting, so I dared myself and looked through the hole into the shed. I saw a very nice looking girl being raped by a shed full of robbers. All at once from out in the yard, someone yelled that he had grabbed a nice girl. The bandits in the shed all ran out into the yard leaving the girl on the straw. I called her and told her to come quickly to the hole. She was barely on our side of the wall when her tormentors returned. They looked everywhere for the girl, but seemingly never saw the hole in the wall. My, how we prayed to God for protection!

We heard one bandit suggest that they burn the shed, then they would get even with those hiding in it, so we left our hiding place. We actually got away! As we were running and turned around to look at our village, we saw many yards in flames. We could hear the cattle bellowing in the burning barns. When we sat down to rest ourselves, the girl told me they had killed my husband. How that hurt! I couldn't say a word nor shed a tear. On the next morning when they told her that her father had been killed, she cried bitterly.

We fled all night and were running on stocking feet since we had lost our shoes. Over plowed and frozen fields, we fled. From time to time, we heard people passing not far from us, but since we didn't know if they were friend or foe, we remained very quiet.

When we arrived in Blumenort, we couldn't find anyone in the village. How lonesome a deserted village appears! We ran to Alexanderkrone. The girls changed off carrying my son. I carried my baby the entire time for that was the only way we could keep her quiet. Before we reached the village, and in the darkness, we came upon some ice through which I broke. I sank into the water til under my arms. My baby also got wet. I couldn't go any further. The girls dragged me to the first house. The people, Peter Friesen, were just ready to flee. They gave me and the children dry clothing, loaded me on their wagon, as sick as I was, and took me to Neu Schoensee and put me into the house of Jacob Janzen.

Mrs. Janzen put me into a warm bed and nursed me as well as she could. I thought I would die, for I was in urgent need of a doctor. I wanted to die, and therefore welcomed it, for then I would see my husband again. In the afternoon, we got word that the bandits were approaching. Everybody fled; only Mrs. Janzen stayed with me, but those approaching were not bandits. They were people who were fleeing, and with them was my husband! What a meeting we had! Now I could cry. Until now, neither of us had been able to shed any tears. Too much had happened to us.

Soon after that, we had to flee Neu Schoensee, as an attack was feared. They loaded me on another wagon and drove me to Neu Halbstadt, where I was again put to bed at the home of Minister Janzen. Mrs. Janzen here cared for me as a mother looking after her child.

After about five days, when all the bandits had left, we were able to move back into our house, but oh my! Our house looked a mess. There wasn't a trace of clothes nor bedding. Neither was there anything to eat. The dresser drawers lay in front of the door, covered with human waste. On the table lay a pile of broken glasses of canned fruit and jam. They even used the top and underneath the table as their bathroom!

In spite of all this, we were fortunate - for our house was still standing, and our loved ones were alive. Many of our people could not say this. It is true, after this experience, our people would have liked to leave Russia, but this was not possible.We could not expect help from anywhere. It taught many, as Mr. Fast said, to again turn to the Lord in prayer. Small surprise attacks became the order of the day. Large attacks could happen again any day. How could we prevent them from coming?

Abram Quiring of Shoenau walked on the street in the beginning of December. Someone saw a man step out from behind a post and shoot him. Who was this murderer? Why did he do it? No Man could answer these questions. No police investigated the shooting, for there were no police. It was evident to all of us; that which happened to Mr. Quiring could happen to someone else tomorrow.

On February 1920, someone knocked on the window of the home of Frank Wiens, chairman of the Neu Schoensee village. When he asked who was there, they told him they were soldiers who wanted to be taken on a wagon. This happened every day. Wiens got dressed and went with the heavily armed men to the farmer who had the wagon. When they came even with Jacob Janzen's yard, the men called a halt and said they didn't want to go any farther. They wanted the owner of this house to drive them. Wiens had to submit to this. He awoke brother Janzen and told him these men wanted him to drive them somewhere. Mr. Janzen barely opened the door when these men began to rob him. Janzen's wagon was driven in front of the house on which the bandits piled anything from his house that they desired. When this was done, they took Janzen's son and stood him in front of his father, and Wiens in front of the son. One of the bandits shot Mr. Janzen in the back. This bullet was meant to kill all three of them at the same time. They would have accomplished this if they had not used a sawed-off gun which diminished the power of the bullet. Janzen cried,
"I'm hit!" and fell to the ground and was dead. His son was injured and Wiens was unharmed. Both remained alive. Since the lamps were out, the murderers ran out of the room as if someone had used a whip on them. They jumped on the wagon and chased out of the village.

Likewise in the village of Alexanderfeld and Nikolaifeld, blood was shed. No one could feel secure any more. Not rich or poor, German, Russian, or Jew. No woman, young or old, pretty or homely, well or sick, was sure of her honor. No man was sure of his belongings. Robbing, raping, and murdering was continued whenever it suited them.

This was the atmosphere in which we lived.