“World War II Through the Eyes of a Child”
by
Andra Mellinger
Andra Karena Oleks grew up in a very well to do family in Riga, Latvia. Born In 1934, her father Kazimirs (1886 -1973?) was a career military man and moved up to the rank of General of the Latvian Army. Her mother, Kristine (1896 -1979) was a nurse. Andra had an older sister Nellija (1926 - 2017). During World War II, Latvia was first occupied by Soviet Russia and then by Nazi Germany. Andra’s mother took her and her older sister and fled westward from Latvia. Here, Andra recounts her memories of their journey.
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| Andra Age 4 |
Being “in the road” I recall the first occupation by the Communist Russians in 1939 or ’40. They were unkind strangers imposing their communist rules and the price one would pay for disregarding them. I lived in Latvia with my parents and one sister. Around age 6, I slowly became aware that things were changing around me. What I remember, till then, my life was wonderful. We lived in an upscale apartment building, had many friends, and no complaints. Due to the fact that my father was a somewhat important person in Latvia, we lived well. He was a high-ranking General in the Latvian army. He seldom lived with us and I took that for normal with all fathers. Mine was not a good person, but I was unaware of that then. Suddenly around 1940 he was at home more
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| Family Portate 1938 |
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| Kasamers Oleks, Father 2014 |
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| Kristine, Mother 1932 |
We were homeowners on the outskirts of Riga. Turned out my father and uncle had a house built for us or whoever with 4 nice apartments. We moved there and that was home till we left, fleeing as the war progressed. We lived in one, rented the other 3. Well, we lost the house to the communist party.
I think, because I was a girl, I was rather unaware of what the WWII was and would yet become. As days went by, all Latvians were forced by the new Communist officials, to share with those less fortunate. Up till then we must all have been fortunate, but now – we were “gifted” with sharing our apartment with one Russian soldier. One of our rooms was simply taken. He was to be fed meals like our own, whatever he wanted – if we had it, he was entitled to it also. We were very lucky he was a decent person and did not request anything outrageous. That is, as far as I knew. My sister was around 16 then. No doubt my mother was worried. Of course my father was not around.
In days and months to follow, the Russians became more and more pushy. Finally, residents who supposedly posed a threat to the Russians, were rounded up in wagons (trucks, I think) during the night and simply shipped to Siberia or killed, whatever the “orders” were. Nobody was safe anywhere. We lived like that for a year or two. Life was hell.
Then, quite suddenly we were occupied by Nazi Germans. I wish I could remember how that came to be. I mean, was there a battle or some peaceful agreement? I just don’t remember. But suddenly (or maybe not so suddenly) we were under Nazi rule. One morning the communists were gone but the Nazi Germans were parading the streets.
They were kind, then, and tolerable. As far as I was concerned, all was okay and life, such as it was, moved along. Food was harder and harder to buy because the Nazi Army had to be fed first and we would get whatever was left over. Such things as milk, eggs, butter, meat were soon to disappear for the length of the war. After all, the soldiers had to be fed. Eventually also our peace was disrupted by air raids at night. The adults discussed making a shelter across our yard. In a corner a shelter was dug and fixed up so there was room for all resident of our 4 apartment house. I always heard talk about shelters – that if there was a direct hit by a bomb, it was better to be killed right away than burned under rubble of a building on top of you. You could be alive but unable to get out.
The Nazis lived up to their reputation too. The Nazi treatment of residents of Jewish faith is well known. Every day brought a new horror. From our kitchen window we had a clear sight of a synagogue, a white, shiny building, round in shape. It reflected the morning sun brightly every day till the morning it was black. Being so young, I was unaware of some of the Nazi actions. When I was told, the night before while people worshiped, the Nazis locked the door and set fire to it.
Comparing the evil deeds of various enemies made no one a winner. But a choice had to be made. The war moved along and this time the communists were coming back making the Germans retreat. Oops, we were to become unwilling Communists.
The threat of communists taking over again was unbearable. We considered leaving all we had and maybe hang on to our lives. Of course, as I mentioned previously, the horror of the Nazis was lessened for us only because we were not of Jewish Faith. Nazis killed and tortured them at every opportunity. But we were safe in that regard. The choice was made. We would flee our home, our country, do whatever we had to do to survive under Nazi rules. It is a good idea to realize that in a war you often have to know how to play your part. You basically do whatever it takes to survive. Now that we had chosen to flee our home in Latvia and move along with the retreating Germans, we would do whatever it took to survive. It was mid-September1944 when my mother took me by the hand and looked at my older sister saying – we will survive by hook or crook, no probably not that, in Latvian. We packed suitcases of clothing and whatever else we could carry. The three of us – my mother, my 17-year-old sister, and me –joined the crowd on street, everyone heading to the train station.
My father was not ever much of a participant in family dealings. And now he chose to stay guarding our house a few more days to see how things settle down and then follow us, but we never saw him again. By then the roads were cut off and we never saw each other again.
We boarded a train which was to take us west, southwest actually through Lithuania, into Poland at that time. I assume that we didn’t have a particular destination in mind. The war front kept moving in our direction. The air - raids continued as they came when we were still at home. But there was no way to hide, nothing to do but sit inside the train and hope the next bomb doesn’t hit us.
The train moved at night but sat still during the day. Supposedly, as I remember, it could or would be bombed during the day because it would be so easy to see it. We were generally bombed by the Russians and the English. As is well known, together they flattened a large part of Europe. At night we traveled without any lights. I was constantly scared. While we were stopped at a station during the day, many families were assigned to join a local family in their home to be fed and cleaned up and maybe to sleep a few hours. Such are the needs of refugees who are just passing through. Realistically, does anyone actually look forward to having strangers in their house, to be fed and shown a friendly face, plus provide a caring attitude. All of us, into thousands at a time, moved from one city or town to the next, going west. I don’t remember what we thought would be the end of our road. I just thought we didn’t want the Communists to catch up to us.
We spent a couple of months in two of Poland’s cities and it was an enjoyable time. We had a distant relative in a town of Posen, in Poland. We stopped to visit her for a few weeks. Then we had to run again, ever farther west. I do wish I knew what mother’s goal was, but mainly to outrun the approaching communists. Along the way, on the train, some organization helping refugees was handing out containers of oatmeal for kids 10 and younger. Sometimes I got some, other times I was considered too old.
Mostly my mother and sister had to work in local factories which made clothes for the German soldiers. Since they worked 12-hour shifts, I was alone and in charge of trying to buy some food in those stores that had some to sell. We often went hungry. We were staying with a family in Saalfeld, a small city in Southwest Germany, when the war was ending. Every night we spent in the basement of the building and the bombs fell close and far and I shook with fear every time the whistle of falling bombs could be heard. Being in western Germany, we were bombed by
Americans and English. Life can be interesting even for a refugee.
Eating was a now and then thing. There were no restaurants as they had nothing to cook. All food and other things went to the soldiers. There was a strong feeling to keep the soldiers happy. I don’t remember a department store existing but they probably were there, just rather useless. Grocery stores would have some bread in the morning, sometimes margarine or milk. Cheese was available. Since my mother and sister had to be at a job 6 am to 6 pm, any food shopping was left to me. Often spent a couple hours standing in line only to get pushed out of line when I got to the cash register. I was of average size, but very thin. I was sometimes looked upon as being ill with something. There was no medication, no food, no supplies of any sort. Life was very hard, but equally so for everyone. Except for the people of Jewish Faith. They had to wear a six-pointed yellow star on their clothing and walking had to be done in the street, not sidewalk.
All Germans had a lapel pin of the swastika so they could walk on the sidewalk and get first in line even if they arrived last. You bet I wore a swastika! You did what you had to to survive. The streets were full of German soldiers as well as the dreaded SS. They had all the rights to do what they wanted to any refugees or residents and no one questioned their right to do that as well as killing anyone – they must have had to do that. Needless to say we shook in our boots till they passed. You just never knew what could happen. We were in another Polish city at the time 1945 arrived. Prior to that, on Christmas Eve, we snuggled under blankets for warmth when around 10 pm there was a knock on our door. We lived in the janitors’ quarters, one room under stairs without a kitchen. And happy as could be to find a place. That Christmas Eve turned out to be one I have never forgotten. My sister was 8 years older than I. She went to the door and turned white as a sheet. Mother followed. There was a soldier in the door in an SS uniform. As we had forgotten to breathe, it was a good thing the soldier spoke Frohe Weinachten, as he handed my sister a big plate with cookies, homemade candy and stuff. What were we to think? He then explained that his family lived on the third floor and they knew we had nothing. To restart our hearts to beat again was almost painful. The soldier left after inviting us to visit his family sometimes.
Goes to show you all bad guys aren’t bad, though most are. This young man was drafted like all men were, how you felt about Hitler was only one way – you adored him! No one dared show any other feelings.
As homeless refugees we were always trying not to look the part. No one wants to share what they have with strangers. They never could trust that we were decent people, yet some did understand the situation. Of course the war had taught all a few lessons in extending your hand to someone who has no one to reach for.
Somehow between that Christmas in 1944 and March of 1945, we had settled with a German family who owned a clothing store, before the war. Now it stood empty, but they had a 3 story house in the middle of a small city. The war was clearly about to end as we sat in the basement with continued air raids night and day. Finally, sometime in 1945, our town saw truckloads of American soldiers ride in as well as those who came in on tanks, signaling to us that the war was over, the Americans won. It sure was a welcome sight.
Strange to see tanks on ordinary streets, but we got used to that. All was well until it was decided to give this town in the care of Russians. At the end of the war, sometime in April, Germany was divided into the American zone, English zone, and Russian zone.
I don’t recall what plans my mother was making for our future, but it didn’t matter. The Americans were giving that part of Germany to the Russians. Oh no, we weren’t going to let that happen at that point. An old truck was rented by several Latvian families together and we were moving further West and North, driving to find the English zone. English because we knew something of the English, but the Americans we knew nothing about. After all, rumor had it that the Americans blew their noses in a piece of paper (kleenex) rather than a handkerchief. And they chewed something called gum! What could that be, gum? And why?
We moved towards the region that was dealt to the English. We planned to keep going till we reached the English zone. My sister who was 18 then, spoke some English, a few words that would identify us if we were stopped for questioning. As it turned out, along the way to reach the English zone, I got sick with high fever and we were forced to stop at a refugee camp near Kassel, till I got well enough to travel on. So we found a refugee camp in Bettenhausen near Kassell, which was totally flattened by bombs. A spooky feeling to walk through a city the size
of Kassel being nothing but rubble.
In the end, we stayed in that DP (displaced persons) camp for the next 3 years.
The “camp” was previously used as German military barracks. They were 17 in number, I think, and were divided among various nationalities. The buildings were numbered and quickly we learned which numbers housed Latvian refugees, or Polish, Hungarian, Turkish, Estonian, etc. There were no luxuries, but for this little girl of 11, what else could one wish for? We each were given a metal bed with a straw-like mattress, a couple army blankets and the warmth and security of being in a building that was safe. We got food from an American organization called UNRRA, later IRO.
And there were many children to befriend. The housing was primitive, but again, we were safe. Once a week food was rationed out if you went to the building where it was located. Each person got a measured amount of food. Children up to age 10 got a pint of milk once a week. Since I had turned 11, I didn’t get any. Bread too was dealt out as specified. I honestly don’t know what all we got. It wasn’t any kind of a snack, but food to eat. Some of the food was rumored to be that what the soldiers got, rations. I was never hungry then because I had friends and we had no worries. As time went on the community of Latvians created a school for the younger bunch of kids. Later a high school was created. There were teachers with various abilities, who had left home like all else. I was in 3rd grade, eleven of us. We had a regular school schedule and for me life was wonderful. I loved school and was one of the best students. In our English class we learned the American National Anthem – not understanding more than a few words.
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| Andra, DP, Camp 1948 |
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With a friend, 7th grade graduation,in traditional Latvian attire,
DP camp 1949
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There were several different DP camps all through parts of Germany. We were always in the American zone and all the supplies we got were donated by American families who wanted to be in some way involved in helping the thousands of refugees who had lost everything and couldn’t go home. Since we, the refugees, were well taken care of, we were no threat to the local German families. It was a friendly place although we stayed with our friends at the camp, rather than mix with the neighborhood Germans. We all lived for the day someone in the States would want to sponsor us to live in America. Through the next year we all watched as some of our lucky friends were immigrating to America. There were many tests to pass before we could be considered useful for the sponsors. The agreement was that the sponsor pays our fee for the trip. Also, that we agree to work for room and board, no pay, for the sponsor for one year. Tough conditions but apparently the working for no cash pay was not carved in stone. We didn’t have that in our agreement. I must mention that these sponsors were generally viewed as the saviors of Displaced Persons, by bringing them to the United States and giving them a new chance at life, many sponsors were inhumane and worked the immigrants to death. Good and bad exist everywhere.
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| Youth Camp (YWCA), Germany 1949 |
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| Confirmation, Los Angeles, 1950 |
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