Dear American Brother by Joe J. Elder

Author:Joe J. Elder
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Survival story, Russian Revolution, WWII, Gulag, Hitler
Publisher: Joe Elder
Published: 2018-07-25T00:00:00+00:00

18

THE DOUBT HAUNTED ME FOR SOME TIME

December 1928

Winter arrived with an icy blast and made its home on the southern steppe for the entire season. Most of the villagers exhausted their small stacks of manure-block fuel by the end of the month and were desperate for firewood. The first casualty, Frau Silbernagel, froze to death in her bed and the next week Frau Dreger collapsed on the church steps. We heated our house as best we could, but most nights Katie and I tucked Amilia between us, and dressed her in every piece of her clothing during the day. I blamed myself that my wife and daughter lived in such brutal conditions.

Grandpa’s presence enveloped me the day I first swung an axe into the sturdy trunk of an apricot tree in the orchard. I asked for his forgiveness and prayed we would be crossing the saltwater to America before autumn.

As it happened, the cold weather was the least of our problems. One blustery day, Kronchin called the six land dissenters into his office and announced, “All persons who did not pledge their allotted land have been assessed additional taxes on the amount of property owned before the Revolution.”

Gus shifted on his feet and began to speak, but the village administrator ignored him. “Owners like Rosina and Hans Gerein will pay a rate of thirty percent of their former assessment.” He quickly waved off my protest and continued, “Rich landowners like you Frau Ripplinger and Fritz, and Gus Vetter, and Heinz Gerein, will pay a rate of seventy percent of the former assessment.” He handed out thick sheets of paper with official seals on the front. “These are the amounts you owe.”

Gus’ face turned a deep shade of purple. “That’s bullshit!”

The numbers on my sheet were beyond ridiculous. “Be reasonable. None of us can possibly meet that demand.”

Kronchin employed his favorite excuse. “I don’t make the rules. I’m only here to enforce them. Furthermore, you have one week to pay, or your land and machinery go to the Chornov kolkhoz. I will be in Odessa, but my assistant Luka Nikolai will collect the tax. Everyone dismissed.” He pushed back his chair and marched from the room.

The small group followed Mama and me to our living room. Fritz, his voice betraying his disappointment, said to Frau Ripplinger seated beside him on the sofa, “Mama, can we come up with that kind of money?”

She meekly shook her head, the knot of her black kerchief swinging below her chin like a pendulum. “I think we’re finished with keeping any land.”

Uncle Heinz dropped himself into Grandpa’s chair. “I’d say we’re all finished. I hate to see the communists win, but we’re fighting a losing battle.”

Gus’ eyes blazed. “You might be, but I’m not.” He stomped out of the house, letting the door slam behind him.

Minutes later, Fritz and I went to investigate a series of loud bangs coming from the Vetter yard. Gus, more enraged than I had ever seen him, raised a sledgehammer and put another dent into his grain binder.

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