I was born in Kiev (now Kyiv), Ukraine, which was part of the Soviet Union until 1991. World War II for the Soviet Union started on June 22, 1942, five weeks before I turned 5 years old.
My father went to the front where he was killed in October 1942 at the Battle of Stalingrad. I do not remember much about my father. However, my mother used to say that some of my habits copy my dad’s, e.g., the way I tie my laces.
Before the summer of 1941, it was known about the persecution of Jews in Germany, her allies, and the lands under her occupation, but the mass killings of Jews had not yet started. The majority of Jews in Kiev wanted to evacuate, but it was very difficult, some staying for different reasons — but nobody imagined almost immediate death. In 10 days, after Kiev fell to the Germans, 34,000 Jews were killed in Babyn Yar — a big ravine on the outskirts of the city.
Though Kiev fell to the Germans almost three months after the war started, it was impossible for regular folks to get train tickets out of the city. My older brother, 12 years old at that time, was taken away by train by my mother’s friend whose husband had an elevated rank in the army. Later my brother rejoined our mother and me when we were far from the fighting areas.
The only way for us to leave Kiev was on a barge, on the Dnieper River. Perhaps, it was a self-propelled barge, without any motors, going downstream. Riding this barge is the first event of my life I can remember. There were only women, children, and the elderly on the barge. The Germans knew that the passengers were Jews, so they bombed the barge. Luckily, they missed hitting the barge, but for me, it was like entertainment, the giant splashes of water from the falling bombs were spectacular. My mother pulled me away under the canvas to protect me.
My next memory is either in Dnepropetrovsk or Kharkov. My mother and I were trying to board the train. It was impossible to get tickets. The train was about to leave, and several people were hanging on the steps. My mother pushed me, and we joined others on the crowded steps, but nobody was permitted inside. I was a child, so I was allowed inside, as an exception. Inside the train car was not crowded. Someone asked me where my father was, and after hearing that he was at the front, people demanded: “Let the soldier’s wife in!” so my mother joined me at last.
The doctors’ plot was a madeup Stalin- era antisemitic conspiracy of the early 1950s. Jewish doctors were accused of conspiring to kill leaders of the Soviet Union. Those with Jewish surnames lost jobs and were arrested. Following Stalin’s death, in 1953, the new Soviet leaders ended their campaign against Jewish doctors.
Eventually, we reached the Volga River area and spent the war years there. Typically, in the Soviet Union, children started school at the age of seven. Where we lived, the school was far from our village so walking there involved crossing the fields with the hungry wolves. That is why I started school at age eight when we moved to a little more civilized place. At least, that is what my mother told me.
In 1946, we returned to Kiev and, with some difficulty, got back our room in an apartment shared with two more families. My mother worked as a clinic registrar for many years, her meager salary being the only means of living for us. But during the Anti-Semitic “Doctors’ Plot” she was fired. Luckily, our beloved leader and teacher comrade Stalin unexpectedly died — and my mother could at least get back her job.
In Kiev, I studied and graduated from school with excellent grades. My attempts to get a higher education at colleges failed because no Jews were allowed admittance! Eventually, with some difficulties (while working at a factory), I was admitted to the Moscow AllUnion Machine-Building By-Correspondence Institute. It consisted of studying books, sending problem-solving papers by mail, and going once a year to Moscow to take the exams. After six years, I was awarded the degree of mechanical engineer.
It was still difficult to find a job and definitely, no promotions to Jews in the Soviet Union.
So, when in the mid-1970s it became possible for a Jew to emigrate, I did catch the opportunity and was admitted to the US in November of 1978. I have always been interested in studying foreign languages — so I arrived with a decent knowledge of English — and I started working on January 2, 1979.
Now I have to tell you about my other passion. I like to travel. I did travel in the Soviet Union quite a bit. But even inside the country, there are some areas forbidden for Soviet citizens. Not to mention abroad — nowhere outside his/her own country, a Soviet citizen could go! Somewhere in the world existed Paris, London, Rome, etc. but for a Soviet citizen, all this might as well have been on the Moon.
After working in the U.S. for 2.5 years, I asked my employer for a vacation, without payment, for at least a month — but that was denied. I decided to quit my job, go to Europe, and look for another job after returning. I bought a 3-month Eurail pass, unlimited travel on many European railroads. I did travel a lot — and on the very last day of this 3- month pass, I fell under the train at a small station in Greece and lost my right leg above the knee and a half of my left foot.
After spending 1.5 years in hospitals in Greece and the US and another two years until obtaining a decent working prosthesis, I did not resume my labor activities. My income is well below the poverty level, but I do not complain and feel comfortable enough. Medicare and Medicaid cover the majority of my medical problems.
Unfortunately, dental care is rather expensive and hardly affordable for me. So here comes the Holocaust Survivors Oral Health Program. The excellent care I have received for free at Manhattan Oasis Dentistry from Dr. Jonathan Richter and his team surely enhance my optimism for the future.
LEO FALK