Melvin Kagan full

Boston North Inc.

Present Memories

MELVIN KAGAN*

I was born in Ostrog, Poland on 12/25/1922 to Jacob Kagan and Pearl Shapiro Kagan. The center of my youth was spent enjoying time on the Horen River and playing soccer, however, our time playing soccer was limited as Jews were not allowed to use the field during peak times. I attended Polish and Hebrew school and went to shul (synagogue) 3 times a day with my father. My parents owned a haberdashery store and were considered well-to-do. It was a happy life until the Russians came in 1939 when the war broke out between Poland and German. Store owners were forced to sell all their goods. The monetary system was changed too. We were forced to hide the goods and sell them on the black market in order to sustain our family. Staples like flour and sugar became scarce.

My brother, Laser, who had been in Warsaw, came home and told us how the Germans beat the Jews and put them in a ghetto for the simple reason that they were Jews. I took that to heart. When the war broke out between Germany and the Soviet Union on June 22, 1941, my friends and I thought about escaping. But to do so would have created a panic and the town officials would have shot us on the spot. Four days later, I asked my parents and sisters to please come with me but they did not want to come for fear of the unknown. With a heavy heart, I left in the middle of the night with about 12 of my friends. We traveled about 22 kilometers to the town of Slavuta. That night the skies were red from artillery exchanges. We left Slavuta when we learned the Germans had taken my town of Ostrog. This was the first time I cried, thinking I would never see my family again. We walked a couple of days and survived the week by working on a collective farm until we had to leave again as the Germans kept approaching. We headed for Kiev. While crossing the Dnipro River on a boat, the Germans began bombarding and we had no choice but to jump into the water with whatever little belongings we had. After our escape, we headed for Southern Caucasia as our alternative was to head north with our scant clothing. There we were referred to work at a collective farm in the mountains. Fearing our arrest, we left in the middle of the night for another city where we organized some jobs for ourselves. We remained there until June, 1942. The work was harsh and the Russians were tough disciplinarians. One day, two of my friends were 10 minutes late for work and were made to serve 6 months in jail.

Once again we were forced to leave as the Germans continued their invasion of the Soviet Union. While one army headed toward Stalingrad, another headed toward us in Southern Caucasia. We were lucky to escape on the last train out of the area. I was one of the last ones to squeeze onto the train and held onto the bars on the stairs supporting the weight of three people in front of me. The area was so remote. I held the bars for over 50 miles until we came to the next city. It was some time before I could open my hand to release myself from the train.

We headed to the oil fields of Baku, Azerbaijan. Trying to decide our next step, we were told to cross the Caspian Sea. Hundreds of people were waiting at the harbor, relieving themselves with no shame. It was so cold and windy, and for the first time I foolishly regretted leaving home. A boat arrived with the military and one of them asked me why I was waiting to cross the sea when people on the other side were dying of hunger. Finally, a boat arrived and we decided to go toward the Turkish border, so that if the Germans came close, we were within crossing distance. We found employment, and I worked as a machinist. As employers always confiscated passports, I was caught outside without identification and was arrested. At that time, I had changed my nationality to Polish and called myself Michel Svantislovski. The Soviet police transferred me to the KGB who put me in jail for 3 days until someone identified me. After I was released, I returned to work until 1944 when the Germans were pushed back from this area. During this time, we had no choice but to resort to surviving by stealing flour and corn and selling them on the black market.

One day, I was overwhelmed when I received a letter from my sister, Ann. I was so choked with tears that I had to have the letter read to me. It was then that I learned that of my whole family (immediate family, aunts, uncles, cousins) of 64 people, only about a dozen were alive. She was vague about how my parents were executed. In October, I left Southern Caucasia to meet my sisters. My director had warned me that it was too early to travel and that I may be arrested. However, she had issued me a draft exemption stating that I was valuable as a machinist which protected me from the police. Blood was thicker than water and I left. I was overjoyed to be re-united with my sisters, Ann and Claire, in Zolbunov, not far from our home town of Ostrog.

The reunion was bittersweet as they recounted the details of their survival. After I had left Ostrog, the Germans invaded, and, with the help of the Ukrainians, rounded up the Jews and forced them into a ghetto. The elderly were the first to be executed and buried in a mass grave that had already been dug by the Ukrainians on the outskirts of our town. The second action rounded up the children, again with the help the Ukrianians, who were shot and buried. The third action was to eliminate the remaining Jews in the ghetto. At that time, my parents hid in a relative’s attic in a portable closet with my sisters, aunt, uncle, cousin and a six-month old baby for long periods of time on their knees. They cut a hole in the floor and moved the closet over the hole so that at night, they could escape to get water from the Horen River. There were times though when this was not possible, and to keep the baby from crying, she was made to drink urine. The alternative would have been to cover the baby’s mouth and risk her suffocation. Any noise would have alerted the looters nearby of their presence and certain execution. By this time, my sisters told me that my father had lost his sanity, and the family decided to take their chances and leave the attic rather than die in the closet.

My older sister, Kayla, decided to seek help from our Ukrainian neighbors. She had been a school teacher who had welcomed students into our home. Many times their families stayed for dinner and slept at our house. Surely, these same families would sympathize and give them refuge. However, although they did not turn them in, many threatened to turn their dogs loose on them if they did not leave immediately. Finally, they found 1 family willing to take them in for 1 night and feed them, but they had to leave the next morning. This was the thanks from the same people who drank, ate and slept at our house. My sisters were fortunate to finally found shelter with a Pentacostal family and survived with their help and that of several other families. They were never able to find out what happened to our parents.

When the war was officially over, we were told if we had been born in Poland prior to 1939, we were free to return there. My sisters and I traveled to the city of Lodz where we found a small apartment. My sisters found jobs, but before I found employment, I traveled to Germany to settle my own personal score. I keep these details to myself, though I am not ashamed; it is not flattering to whom I am today. We stayed in Lodz for 4 months until we had an opportunity to leave, posing as Greek Jews returning to Greece. When we arrived at the Polish-Chech border, the military police took us into the station. We explained that we were going to Greece. Thinking we did not understand Polish, one Polish officer said to another, “these are dirty Jews.” But they let us go, happy to see us leave. We set on a train to Chechoslavkia, careful not to speak our own language for fear they would send us back.

We arrived in Bratislova, Checkoslavkia where we were given false passports as Austrian Jews. We were first taken to Vienna to a building owned by the Rothschild family which had been turned into a hospital, and then to an American-based displaced persons camp in Badgistan near the Swiss border. The camp was previously a resort and was paradise to us. It was here that we learned the extent of the genocide that had taken place against our people as we all recounted our tales of survival. We stayed there for 3 years until we were moved to Linz where we were housed in former SS barracks for a year and a half. We were finally allowed to emmigrate to the United States. On February 2, 1949, we arrived by ship in New York City on the Marine Shark. I met my wife, Mae, at the Manger (at the Madison Hotel) in Boston. We married on March 31, 1955 and have two beautiful children, Jeffrey and Laurie.

The Jewish people gave Christianity a religion, but they surely did not abide by their religion because very few of them lifted a finger to help the Jews. I hope in the future that Christians and Jews will guard against such a thing from ever happening again.

*Deceased 8/19/2006

For more information see Anya Kagan Kornhauser.

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