Leningrad's Littlest Warriors: A Tale of Survival and Resilience
Remembered Each Berry She Gathered: Recollections of a Leningrad Girl Enduring the Siege
Remember the tales of Valiant Valentina Pavlovna? She was just eleven when her life took a drastic turn with the commencement of World War II. Here's how she managed to cling onto hope amidst the hell that was the Leningrad Siege.
Every year on May 9th, Russians revel in Victory Day, a celebration of victory over fascist Germany. Yet, the Siege of Leningrad, a gruesome chapter of history, serves as a stark reminder of the horrors that transpired during those times.
Leningrad, then, was a city of resilience, bravely withstanding the enemy for more than 900 days. The siege, even today, leaves Leningraders grappling with painful recollections of the famished and bitter times. Valentina Pavlovna, one of its survivors, shares her mesmerizing story of tenacity.
Back then, their home was in the rural district of Gavani, a place of wooden houses and wells. The district was rugged, often targeted by German shells. Valentina, a young schoolgirl from Leningrad, bore witness to the cataclysmic events. On September 7, 1941, her life took a grim turn... This is her narrative, in her own words.
A City of Cruel Foes and Scorched Earth
"The onslaught of Germans was so swift that the residents, including us, scarcely had the time to prepare. We, of course, had nothing to spare. My father, a brave man, immediately enlisted in the military in July of '41. We were suggested evacuation, but my mother stubbornly refused, choosing to stand her ground in the city.
From November 1941, there was no heating, electricity, or sanitation in the city, causing the city to decay. The Germans, these peculiar people, were merciless and ruthless—they knew our city well and constantly bombarded it. If not a bombing, then a raid; if not a raid, then a bombing was always lurking around the corner."
My mother worked at the Radishchev Leather Factory in Gavan, which, in a roundabout way, ensured our survival during the war. The factory used to produce leather goods, and the small scraps that weren't useful were given to the workers by the director. We managed to cook something from these pieces, thereby keeping our hunger at bay.
A Crumbling Classroom and a Clubbed Heart
The first winter was especially grueling, pierced with pain and chilled to the bones. On January 1st, a Christmastime tree was erected in the city, and we, the children, received juicy mandarins, biscuits, and a few candies. The city administration did try to show its support, and my mother's director also arranged a Christmas tree for the children, offering them potatoes, a piece of pork, and—as a sweet treat—a candy.
Finally, in February 1942, it was announced that the 16th school was opening in Gavan, so we eagerly enrolled. Our teachers said, "Children, we will teach you to write, read, and count. But you must think for yourselves. Whatever you think, that's how your life will unfold. Always remember: a poor grade is a victory for the enemy."
The war had left us bereft of books and notebooks, with all the study materials having perished long ago. Yet, our determination to resist the enemy was as strong as ever. We were a group of resilient children, united by our unwavering spirit and an unyielding desire to learn.
One fateful day, as we were in school, a shelling forced us all to seek refuge in the bomb shelter. We were accustomed to these bombings and shellings, but our teacher insisted that we follow her. Entering the shelter, we discovered a classmate who had stayed behind—a young boy who refused to leave. We returned to the school shortly after, only to find that the shell had pierced the building, claiming the life of our comrade. Again, life had snuffed out a youthful spirit, cruelly pressing us with the reality of war.
Strangely United, in the Midst of Chaos
By March, the city administration had summoned everyone for community service, ordering them to clear the streets of the decomposing bodies that lay scattered everywhere. Amidst the turmoil, people gathered to avoid the looming specter of an epidemic. Even those who could barely walk made their way out, clutching rickety shovels and braving the horrors of death that lay in the streets.
Berries, our delicious lifesavers
We were sometimes sent from school for agricultural work. The teachers would warn us, "Whatever you gather (carrots, potatoes, cabbages), it is for the front, not for you." As a result, we couldn't help ourselves to a morsel, everything was given to those at the frontlines. And indeed, we didn't have much to eat. They only sustained us with cabbage leaves. Our teachers would tear off the tough outer leaves and give them to us. But even then, we didn't dine on them; instead, we took them home for our mother to make soup.
During these agricultural work sessions, we were permitted brief respites. Then, we'd run towards the nearby forests and gather wild berries. The berries became our saving grace. We plucked them, returned, counted each berry, and took them home as quickly as possible. The scarlet, emerald hues filled our hearts with hope, convincing us that the promise of survival and warmth still lay ahead.
A Year of Suffering, a Year of Joy
In 1943, the Leningrad Siege came to an end. Thereafter, we received textbooks, notebooks, and the essentials for school. Although our resources couldn't compare to modern-day school supplies, we were the happiest children. Those meager materials became sources of warmth in our chilly, nearly-frozen homes. We were numb with cold, shivering in our feet, but we were grateful.
The lifting of the siege in 1944 brought a new sense of hope and struggle to our lives. The war was far from over, but we knew that every day went by a step closer to our liberation. We managed to salvage a semblance of normality, even as other parts of the city were still in ruins.
Leningrad survived the cruel clutches of war, thanks to the unwavering resilience and indomitable spirit of its people, especially its children.
"During the Leningrad blockade, Valentina Pavlovna's school in Gavan opened in February 1942, where she and her classmates learned under peculiar circumstances. The teacher firmly encouraged them to think for themselves and always remember that a poor grade was a victory for the enemy."
"As the children were sent for agricultural work, wild berries became a lifesaver for them, providing nourishment and hope amidst the scarcity of food. The scarlet and emerald berries filled their hearts with the promise of survival and warmth."
"After a year of suffering, the Leningrad Siege came to an end in 1943, and Valentina Pavlovna was one of the happiest children as they received textbooks and other school supplies, albeit meager compared to modern-day supplies."
"Valentina Pavlovna's mesmerizing story sheds light on the resilience and spirit of those young 'littlest warriors,' who managed to survive some of the world's heaviest bombings and starvation during the Siege of Leningrad, between 1941 and 1944."
