Bella Berlind Dubrow's Memories of
Borshchagovka and the 1919 Pogrom
(Courtesy of Allan Berlind)
BELLA’S STORY
[Bella Dubrow, of the Berlind family, was born in Burshivka in 1906 and came to New York in 1922. This set of memories was probably written in the late 1970’s.]
Ever since I read the book “Roots”, and saw the movie on T.V., it reminded me of the stories my mother used to tell us about the terrible times her parents and family lived through, during the time of the czarist regime in Russia.
When I saw “Fiddler on the Roof”, which was based on stories by Sholem Aleichem, I thought that the little town of Anatevka, which he depicted, could have been the little town of Burshivka, where I was born. The people were the same; the houses looked alike; they had the same problems as we had in our little town, and they also had the same moments of joy that we had. But most of all they had the same “pogroms” that we had. And they had to leave the land where they were born, because they were Jews. {A “pogrom” was an organized attack, massacre, or slaughter on Jews. And it happened many times in the little towns where Jews lived, during the reign of the czars in Russia.)
I will begin with my grandparents (my mother’s parents), Chaike and Bentzien Rabinowitz. They lived in a small town of about 2,000 people, Jews and non-Jews. They were loved, not only by the Jews, but by the non-Jews as well. During the years of 1910 and 1911, when hooligans from another village used to come in the middle of the night and started a “surprise” attack on the Jews, my grandparents were the “lucky ones”. They were spared the killings and the beatings. The Christian neighbors always protected them, because of the love and respect they felt for my grandparents.
My grandparents had 5 children—3 sons and 2 daughters. In those years, czar Nicholas of Russia, was building a big army. (Those were the years before the great and terrible first world war—1914-1918.)
As soon as a boy became of “age”—15 or 16 years old, he was drafted into the army. The army was especially on the lookout for Jewish boys. They just grabbed these young Jewish boys and sent them far away, sometimes as far as Siberia, to be trained as soldiers. They treated the Jewish recruits like animals, often beating them up. Their food was only black bread and water. Many young Jewish boys did not survive the training period, and their parents never saw them again.
My grandfather, with the help of his Christian friends, found a way for his oldest son, Chaim, to escape the army. He sent him off to Samarkand, a city far away from our little village, where one could somehow “hide” oneself.
The second son, Moishe, was not so lucky. He was drafted into the army in 1913 and sent far away from home. By some miracle he survived the training period.
The third and youngest son, Motel, was then growing up, and hiding in cold cellars. He escaped the draft by having all his teeth pulled out. This was when he was not yet 15 years old.
In order to escape the draft, some of the young Jewish boys would maim themselves, by cutting off fingers, or a leg, or an arm, so that they would be of no use to the army. They and their parents knew that once they were in the army, their chances of survival were very slim.
This uncle Motel, who was the youngest son, is still alive. He is now 87 years old, and lives near Moscow.
As I said, my grandparents also had two daughters. My mother was named Chana, but everyone called her “Dutsy” (which means “pretty little girl” in Russian); and the other daughter was named Golda.
Golda and her husband lived near-by in a bigger city. The day she gave birth to twins, (in 1917), there was a big pogrom in her city. The Cossacks invaded the city, looking for Jews. They came to the hospital where my aunt Golda and her twins were. They killed many young Jewish mothers and their babies. But Golda and her twins were spared. Again, luck was with them, for the doctor and the nurses pleaded with them not to kill Golda and the babies, since the twins were very sick.
Golda was not killed, but she was beaten up, and the twins were grabbed and pushed around the floor. One of the twins died as the result of this treatment. But the other survived. (He lived in Moscow and died in 1976.)
At the end of 1913, my grandfather, again with the help of Christian friends, left our town to try to “buy out” from the army, his son Moishe. If one had enough money one could bribe an army official by “buying-out” one’s son.
The only transportation was by horse and wagon. My grandfather started out with the bribe money, but on the way some robbers came upon him, killed him and took the money.
Moishe, his son, was eventually discharged from the army. My grandmother sent him off to live with his older brother, Chaim, in Samarkand.
World War I broke out in the year 1914 and ended in 1918. After the war, many changes took place in the countries of Europe, and especially in Russia.
The people of Russia rose up against the tyranny of the czar. In 1917 there was a revolution by the people. The czar and his family were executed, and a new peoples government was installed.
But even though the czarist regime was now overthrown, there were still many Cossacks and “white” Russians who fought against the revolution and the new people’s government. They engaged in what was called a “counter-revolution”. They invaded many villages. They looted, raped, robbed and killed many peasants. And, of course, the Jews were the worst scape-goats of all. There were many pogroms then.
At that time my mother and father (Chana and Velvel Berlind) and their five children, were living with my grandmother, still in the little village of Burshivka.
My two brothers, Hyman and Morris, and I (Bella) were young pre-teenagers at the time. My two sisters, Eve and Mollie, were about 4½ and 3½ years old. My sister Irene was born in America two years after we arrived here.
In one of the pogroms my grandmother was killed among many others. The houses were burnt to the ground, but by some miracle, my parents and their five children escaped with their lives.
My father had a brother who had left Russia for America in 1912. When he heard about the plight, he arranged for all of us to come to America. But we had to pick up our “ship’s-cards” in Antwerp, Belgium.
So like the Jews of Anatevka in “Fiddler on the Roof”, we took what little belongings we had and left the country of our birth.
Traveling across war-torn Europe to get on the boat to America took almost two years. The boat trip took about 3½ weeks on the “Finlandia”. We finally arrived in New York, past the Statue of Liberty on (Jan. 4, 1922). And a new life was begun.
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