Russia Deportation  

My most beautiful Christmas present

Notes of a deportee from Deutschsanktmichael / Narrative report by her daughter

("Banater Post" from January 20, 2022 - with kind permission of the HOG Deutschsanktmichael) 

My mother Rosina Stiel, née Jünger, was one of the approximately 33,000 Banater Swabians who were deported 77 years ago to the then Soviet Union for forced labor. She was born on November 4, 1920 in Deutschsanktmichael and died on May 2, 2005 in Nagold. At the time of her deportation, my mother was a single widow. My father Josef Stiel had been killed on the Eastern Front at the age of only 22. I myself was barely three years old when my mother was taken from me. I was not to see her again until five years later.
My mother left behind records of what she experienced and suffered in the Donbass, which are now being published for the first time. I add my memories as a child affected to her report.

Factual report by Rosina Stiel

"It was January 14, 1945, when I, along with many other compatriots from my home village of Deutschsanktmichael, was taken by horse-drawn cart to a school in Freidorf. Here we waited three days before we began the journey into the unknown, into an even more uncertain future. During these days we slept on straw. We were finally put into cattle wagons, which took us far away from my homeland, my family and my child.
The journey lasted about two weeks, with countless stops to fetch water. The wagons were crammed with people, so there was little space. Sanitary facilities were lacking, there was only a small hole in the corner. There was straw scattered around the wagon, on which we slept.

When we arrived at our destination, Dimitroff in Ukraine, we were taken to our accommodation under the supervision of armed soldiers. It consisted of five to six blocks of houses, each with two floors. Twenty people were accommodated in each room. Bunk beds served as night camps.
From 1945 to 1948 we had to haul wood, shovel coal, push carts, and clear the logs of ice in the winter. Our hunger was severe because of the hard work. We received food only twice a day, in the morning and in the evening, and our bread rations were so small that for many they were only enough for breakfast. We worked in three shifts, even on Saturdays and Sundays. Every eighth day we were given the day off to wash our clothes. On that day we also had to clean the camp and the men's and women's rooms.

One day I was on my way to the market to buy some food when a rifle butt hit me in the back. I fell to the ground and sustained some injuries, which also hindered me in my work. However, this was not the only injury I sustained. I suffered hearing damage because of the noise in the coal mine, I had bruises on my left leg because of an accident that happened while I was transporting logs, and I suffered kidney damage because of the work, which was much too heavy for a woman and which we had to do in bitter cold.
Because of the lack of food and the hard work, all the deportees were very much weakened. The thought of whether we would see our families, our children and our homeland again was also very hard on us.

In November 1949, after about five years of hard work and being away from my family and child, I was allowed to return to my home village."

Memories of the daughter Anna Wachter

These were the experiences of my mother, recorded by her in writing. Even though the notes are very brief, they reveal the full extent of the suffering that happened to those who were dragged to Russia through no fault of their own.

But how did I, her daughter, experience this time? What did I felt?

As far as I can remember, it was winter. My mother was standing at the kitchen window, crying bitterly. I went to her, she picked me up and hugged me tightly. At that time I was three years old and did not understand anything of what was happening around me.
Suddenly my mother was no longer there and I was alone with my maternal grandparents. In the early days we received little mail. This uncertainty was very hard on all of us, so my grandmother cried a lot.
My father's mother also lived with us in the village, and as I grew older, I took turns spending time with my grandmothers. I never met my father. He died two months after my birth in the war in Russia and now I also couldn't remember my mother's face. I was too young when she was taken from me.

During that time I was often sick. Since my grandparents were working, I was often alone at home. Even the food did not always taste good to me during that time. My grandmothers tried hard, but they could only partially replace my missing mother. Fortunately, there were some childhood friends in the neighborhood with whom I had happy times and who distracted me a little.

At age of six, I started school. At school I suddenly had to read and write Romanian. I did not know this language, since German was spoken predominantly in the village. My grandfather tried to help me. He did not know the language very well either. When he went to elementary school in the early 1900s, Hungarian was taught. I survived the first grade by the skin of my teeth.
From the second grade on, the lessons were held in German and I had become a year older. In November 1949 my mother returned from Russia. Now I also had a support in her in German and Romanian.

During her absence I was very sad, especially at Christmas. But Christmas 1949 I was the happiest person in the world. I had received my most beautiful Christmas present - my mother.

Note of the HOG Deutschsanktmichael

In January 1945, 73 persons from Deutschsanktmichael were deported to the Soviet Union for forced labor. Many small children were taken into the care of their grandparents. Nine of the deportees lost their lives in the Soviet Union.

Nikolaus Heber