Life and Fantasy Growing Up
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The war began with a whimper. The Wehrmacht had entered Poland, the Stukas were screaming above Warsaw, the Ulani were trying to transfix the German Panzers with their beribboned lances. In Paris we were being told a lot about the "Ligne Maginot," and the British were singing about hanging their wash on the "Siegfried Line." There were trial air-raid alerts. Each French citizen was issued a gas-mask that he must carry with him at all times, since it was expected that the fiendish Huns would use chemical weapons against the civilian population. There was talk of rationing, and certain items were getting difficult to get.
The French were obsessed with the fear of a fifth column, i.e. an underground pro-German network bent on sabotage, treason and deceit. As we know it wasn't much different in the United States in regard to the citizens of Japanese ancestry. Actually everything took its normal course as usual, and high points in the "funny war" were rare and far between.
I continued to go to the Lycee, took my piano lessons. For foreigners, things were different as they were more easily prone to be suspected of nefarious activities. Mrs. Krivoshein was suddenly a particularly dangerous individual.
Old cliches came to the fore once again: the murderous Hun, the infamous Boche. I cannot remember a great deal about that phase, since it was generally quiet and events were subdued. The communists got out of fashion all of a sudden, because they had pacted with the enemy and gobbled up a part of the Polish Republic. I went to school with my gas-mask stuck in a metal cylinder, the whole hanging from my shoulder and banging against my back with every step. In the Spring of 1940, there was an air-attack and the. Paris area got hit relatively hard. The targets were however military or industrial sites, and losses to civilians were purely accidental.
Then things happened rather fast: Belgium, Holland, Sedan, the Dunkirk debacle of the British Forces that they and Churchill kept representing as a victory. Suddenly the Germans stood close to Paris. On the streets, there were endless treks of refugees, bands of soldiers, caravans of wounded, then nothing any more. I woke up one morning, the air was full of dark smoke, the city unnaturally quiet. Paris had been declared an open town and the French Army Units had retired to the south. 1 went into the Asnieres downtown, and there were Germans on a motorcycle with sidecar standing near the bridge, looking things over.
--On the 18th, the Reds had taken Modlin, Petrikov, Radomsk...
Friday the 19th was crazy-house day. The Russian were in Silesia and right by Litzmannstadt... We had a strange biology class in school... Dr Fricke, the teacher, looked distraught... Ehlers, the Director, appeared suddenly, in full Nazi uniform: "No more school"!
We began to make our preparations at home... We needed travel permits, but there was an interminable queue at the corresponding office... We desisted... A 100 miles from Posen, there were skirmishes with advance tank units of the Soviet Army. The enemy had entered Cracow and Lodsch... A new offensive had started 60 km to the south of the present line of fighting... Mama finally got the permits... I played a little on my beloved piano. We packed... Masses of people were leaving town already... It was beginning to look like the military were taking over... Troop convoys, trucks. That evening, last meet at the Russian Youth Center... One by one, most of the members showed up. We exchanged addresses, pictures... We sang, talked...
But Ira did not come!...
I wrote her a letter that night, decided to bring it to her the next day along with my latest verses and a dictionary I had promised her.
On Saturday the 20th of January, we heard that the Red Army had taken Kutno and advanced to Leslau and Toenningen. Mama went to get Railroad tickets, waited for 3 hours... Then it said there would be no need for tickets...
I went to the Cartographic Bureau on the Muehlenstrasse, but everything was in disarray there. I left my little package and my letter addressed to Ira with a man sitting in a booth at the entrance, who promised to hand them to Ira if he saw her... I encountered Pfundt and exchanged a few words... An interminable flow of refugees lugging mountains of packs and suitcases, was pouring from every direction toward the station. Tolia had dropped in while I was looking for Ira, and left again. The Ravensbergs left by car at 11 A.M.
That last night, Mrs Dannberg had left for Iena. Putti didn't seem to want to go anywhere, so we said a brief good-bye, and at 15 30 we got started, each carrying a heavy piece of luggage. We made it to the railroad station and met the Shvedovs there. A mob awaited us.
With them we plunged across the tracks to a waiting train. Everybody was rushing to the wagon doors, entering the compartments with bundles and sacks, kids and dogs. I succeeded in entering a carriage, using my valise as a sort of battering ram.
Claude, Mama and Leopold stayed on the platform, but I remained where I was, since I could have been of no use whatsoever to them, only a nuisance or extra burden. So I waited and smoked one cigarette after the other. At six P.M., the train, literally bursting with passengers, gave a sudden start and slowly began to roll.
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About the Book
This is the story of author’s growing up in Europe. It describes his early teen years in a Paris suburb where his émigré parents lived in poverty. He tells about the hardships they encountered, his sister’s death, his own illness and leg amputation.
Still he manages to assert himself in school and on the streets. With the arrival of the German troops in 1940, a new era began, the family moved to the east of the Reich, soon to be fleeing before the advancing Red Armies. After losing everything they owned, the family found some security and respite in the US zone of occupation. His parents and two brothers left for the United States in 1950, and he started his University studies, first in Germany, then in Belgium. He married, finished his Medical Education, and joined his family in Brooklyn, New York.
About the Author
George Lysloff is native of a Paris suburb in France, oldest son of émigré Russian officer and his Baltic-German wife.
From his early adolescence, he showed a tendency toward intellectual pursuits. He read numerous works dealing with philosophy, religion and esoterics that had belonged to his uncle, an internist and sometimes Buddhist. he wrote French poetry at first, later switched to English after immigrating to the United States.
Right after the end of World War Two, he studied medicine and turned to psychiatry and psychoanalysis. After living in Germany for many years, he returned to the States.
Upon retirement, he wrote his memoirs, including personal thoughts and insights. He is married and father four children. He is now in the process of relating the phases of his autobiographical development n Europe and in America.