I would like to take you back to my parental home, that of David and Elizabeth Funk. As mentioned, we siblings were seven brothers: David, Aron (myself), Johann, Jakob, Gerhard, and Abram. There was also an Isaak, who as a 3-month old infant, died of starvation. His death followed upon our dispossession (de-kulakization) and we were forced out of our home. That was a very difficult time in our lives as fear, frost, and hunger were our constant companions. Added to that was the plague with all the vermin – rats, mice, lice, bedbugs, and cockroaches. This lasted for several years. It seemed it would never end. For several months, we were hosted with my Uncle Johann Funk, who were already living in close quarters, in a small building on Grandfather’s yard, but they shared what they had with us. Our family of nine  shared a 3 ½ sq. meter room. A triple-decker bed of sorts had been arranged in one corner where David and I slept on the top level, Johann and Jakob on the middle level, and Gerhard and Abram on the lowest level. Little Isaak slept in a trough near our parents’ bed. Then there was just enough room for a small table.

During these dire circumstances, little Isaak died of starvation. Our father then made a small coffin and my Uncle Johann, David, and I went to the cemetery to dig the grave. Uncle Johann dug the first length of furrow, then David and I, together, dug another one. David was 10 years old, and I was nine. While David and I dug, Uncle Johann sauntered about the cemetery looking for tender shoots, leaves, and herbs and began eating them. He encouraged us to “…go, gather these ‘Kraeuter’ and eat, lest your starve to death”. Repeatedly, I tried biting into these stems and chewing them, but they tasted so dreadfully awful – so bitter. I couldn’t even bear to see Uncle Johann chew and swallow one stem after another.. And so we dug this tiny grave only halfway to completion in one day. It required all our strength to climb out of this one meter deep hole, even with the help of Uncle Johann. And at home there was no energizing meal to help recover our strength, since there was only ‘Kraeuter’ soup. It was a special treat to find and add some sorrel (Saueramferblaetter) to it, but they were hard to come by. No thought of a good slice of bread, or a potato. I am describing this as it really was at the time and not to invoke pity. A reminder of those times helps us now to be very grateful. If one hasn’t experienced it, one can’t comprehend it.

At this point, the famine was really in its initial phase, and we sought for means of survival. From old pieces of tin, our father made traps, round as a pipe, to help us trap and catch field mice. At this, we three oldest brothers went on a search for mouse holes, set up the traps, followed by a search for greens, so mother could make another soup for all of us. After several hours, we checked our traps. If something was in them, we had a little meat in our supper soup. Somehow, after we had eaten we felt hungrier than before the meal.

Shortly after this, my parents took me to my Uncle David and Aunt Anna Wiebe (Aunt Anna was my mother’s cousin.). This placed me in a new environment and only 25 km from Katerinowka. However, cars were a rarity and our horses had all been taken away so to get to this town, one travelled by foot.  I was very happy to go see this new place and for the change of atmosphere, but I didn’t realize what a heavy toll the deprivations of the past had taken of me, and how this short trip would affect me. As a result of the continuous walking, my feet became swollen and so stiff that for three days I could not stand on them and could not walk. I stayed here with my uncle and aunt for approximately three months, but I will not describe that event here because it would be a complete story in itself. So, I skip over those three months to when my Father came for me and we took the train back home in September 1933.

During my absence, my parents had to leave Katerinowka, and since they found no place to live, they temporarily moved in with another uncle and aunt, the Gerhard Dycks, my father’s oldest sister, Mariechen. During the winter, my father arranged a small room in the hallway between the kitchen and barn. The winter was so very cold – our drinking water in the pail froze up and our ‘verlumpte’ blankets froze firmly to the walls while we slept. The situation seemed so hopeless. During this time, we had to go back to school, because the government was deprograming children about faith in God. David and I were in grade three and Johann in grade two. Now began the intense anti-God movement. All churches, religions and all teachers of God became the targets of vicious hatred and persecutions. School children had to become ‘Pioneers’, ie leaders. Leaders in the sense of being anti-god. The whole student body was forced to become Pioneers. So it came about that our whole class, with the exception of David and me, became Pioneers. Consequently, the whole class turned on us. If something went awry in class, or at school, we were blamed. When the class was instructed to memorize a poem entitled, “The International”, which included lines such as “There is no higher Being who serves us – no God – no Kaiser, etc.” We refused to memorize it. We were detained after classes to work at it, but we have never learned it. Our parents had instructed us from the Bible and that was so much more valuable to us than anything the school offered. At this point, you may ask, “How did you ever survive with your lives?” Humanly speaking, it seems impossible. The truth is, that to a great extent, we owe our lives to our mother’s family and relatives in Canada who repeatedly sent money. Without that help, likely none of us would have survived.

We just couldn’t stay in these crowded quarters much longer. The hunger, the cold, the rats, mice lice, fleas, and bedbugs were constant irritants. In addition, the authorities, who had initially dispossessed us of our property, were on our case to leave, and our little hallway dwelling was ready to collapse. In the meantime, our Aunt Tina Funk (wife of Uncle Isaak Funk, who had been arrested and banished) had also joined us there with her two boys. The future looked so utterly grim, and death constantly stared us in the face. Then, just at this desperate time, we received a letter containing money from relatives in Canada, and at this point, I don’t remember who sent it, but it was just enough for our travel tickets to the Caucasus. We had heard, via the grapevine, that people could still survive and live there. So we left Miloradowka in February 1935. We disembarked the train at the very end of the line, with the humongous, snow covered mountains ahead of us.

Everything in this new country was new and strange to us. We had no money, only ragged clothing, wooden-soled ‘Schloren’, or ‘Pantoffeln’ on our feet, with only a narrow leather band over the top of the foot. The people were a mix of Oriental and Asiatic, semi-wild in nature. Most men wore a double-edged saber or short sword in their belts. Their appearance and language seemed gruesome, but with time, we got used to them. Some of them showed compassion towards us and brought us food.

Work was easily found, but housing was near impossible. After a week, a vacant, ramshackle place with two rooms was found. The walls consisted of reeds woven together, plastered with mud or clay. One room had no floor, and the roof was of slate tile. One gable end was open; no windows or doors; only holes for them, and no stove or oven. We moved in because here was no alternative.

The next day, the sun shone warm, and the snow began to melt, providing muddy streets. The two fathers (the David Fast family arrived a few days after the Funks) took advantage of the situation, making mud to plaster up the window openings, inserting one small piece of glass, which allowed some much-needed light. They also fashioned a small stove in one corner, but we had no firewood and nothing to cook. In spite of it all, we felt we had overcome some great hurdles.

The next day, we were visited by several townspeople who explained to us that life was quite possible in this area; that there was a lot of corn remaining on the fields after harvest time. Anyone could feel free to go glean the fields. We immediately looked for string, ropes, bags and knives, and proceeded to the fields. Many fields had been only superficially harvested and many corn stalks still had whole cobs on them. We feared entering the village with all our booty, but at the end of day, we felt extremely blessed.

We were soon rubbing out the dry kernels from the cobs and then boiling and roasting them. The stalks served as our bedding and also as fire material for the stove. In comparison to what we had suffered in the Ukraine, we felt we were halfway to heaven here. The next day, all who could walk were back on the field again. Then, suddenly we noticed on a nearby field where the snow had melted, that there were potatoes sticking out of the ground. The upper side was frozen, while the underside was fine. We boiled and mashed the good parts, while from the frozen parts, we made cookies, which tasted better to us than any tasty Christmas treats today. That was the beginning of a promising, new life in the Soviet Union. The village was named ‘Michelsdorf’.

It took some adjusting for us to get used to their ways. Thievery was quite rampant, especially horses and cows, and if the barn held some sheep or goats, they were also taken. Only the swine were overlooked by the thieves because Muslims don’t eat pork. Many people tied their only cow to the bedpost in the house  for the night just so they would be sure to still have her in the morning. These villagers were totally illiterate and unschooled.

Sometime, also the village store was ransacked in an overnight raid. Whenever word spread that a new shipment of goods was coming, the towns people lined up in long queues the evening before, standing all night if required, because the new wares were so quickly dispersed. Almost every family had a representative in that lineup. On one such occasion, the unexpected happened. A truck with eight armed men on it approached at high speed and stopped at the door of the building. The men dismounted rapidly and rudely and roughly commanded everyone in the lineup to raise their arms high, turn their backs to them, and make no sounds or suspicious movements, at the peril of being shot. There was no thought of escaping; all just shook in their boots and followed orders. Within a few moments, the door to the store was kicked in and in about 15 minutes, the store was emptied. The truck raced off while the whole line of people (about 150) stood motionless. They dared not move or speak, not knowing if one of the rogues was watching from a concealed location. That’s how they were found by a newcomer, who had no knowledge of what had just transpired.

No one could report the incident because there were no telephones, so it was later that morning that authorities first learned of the incident. No effort was made to look for the culprits. Instead, all those in the lineup were called before the authorities, one-by-one, and accused of having had a part in the theft. The salespersons and watchmen were apprehended, taken away, and never heard from again. Such incidents were not uncommon, and often, government officials were party to such banditry.

A good percentage of the populace here actually professed some faith in God, according to their understanding, but they kept pace with the world around them in cursing, drunkenness, smoking, and all that goes with it. Most churches and assembly halls in the country had by this time been demolished or converted into granaries or hog barns.

This village was home to us for almost seven years, until 1941. In all these years, we never contacted other Mennonite believers (aside from the Fasts).

Then, quite suddenly, a new law was issued by the government. All citizens must learn to rad and write, so it was back to school for us. Since we had to help father as the bread winner, we went to school half days, and in the afternoons, we worked with our father. Just when things began to improve for us, materially, danger approached us from another direction – Stalin’s terror.

The years of 1936-1940 were a terror for the public. All lived in fear and insecurity. Fear of all authorities dominated life; fear of going to bed at night lest it was your turn to awaken to the banging on the door  at night with the order to accompany the bandits, never to see your family again. One after another, family heads were summoned, and always in the dark of night. Not only Germans, but also Russians were taken, but mostly Germans. Stalin had injected fear into his people – fear of speaking a word to a neighbour or a friend. There also seemed to be no lack of informers who may have seen two or three talking together and that was reason enough to be summoned to court.

The N.K.W.D. stood for Russia’s most dreaded, fearful body of power. All those who got their summons at night had first been to this organization. Stalin demanded all his works must be highly praised. All songs, poetry, and prose must honor and laud him as the saviour and deliverer of the Russian people, from the enslavement of the Czar. However, it was the ensuing “freedom” which was the true enslavement. No one dared speak a word against the regime; they scarcely dared to think against it.

One of he worst crimes was to be a Believer, and usually, one of the first questions asked by the authorities covered this area. Christians were the greatest hindrance to the advance of communism. Thieves and murderers were not nearly as great a problem. This night-time summoning and terror continued until 1941, when the war between Russia and Germany broke out.

With the outbreak of war, other difficulties immediately emerged. People could no longer leave their area of residence – this applied mostly to Germans. In October 1941 our village was surrounded by soldiers. No one could leave or enter. On October 4 we were forcefully relocated; railway boxcars had been stationed along the railway line, the larger of which could hold 100 people, while the smaller ones held 50. By sunset the boxcars were filled, and the train began to pull out of the station, with the last car holding the accompanying soldiers. As we looked back one more time, only memories remained of our years in this Lutheran village where we never really were accepted because of our ways – an expression of our faith.

We were packed like sardines into this railway box car – 103 persons! No convenience of benches or chairs for comfortable sitting. Each just sat on his own sack or pack of most-needed  stuff they had brought with them. There was no possibility of reclining for sleep; just a silent acceptance of a situation we could not change. This boxcar was our home for one full month.

Some had food with them that they brought from home, but that lasted only briefly. Every 2-3 days we received some nourishment which consisted of two pails of soup which had to be shared among the 103 persons on board. It’s hard to describe how little each one received. We recalled the biblical story of how Jesus satisfied 5000 men plus women and children with 5 loaves and 2 fishes. It says that all were filled and there were no left-overs. Well, in one way, that describes our predicament – we also had no left-overs, but in our case, no one was filled. However, our lives were spared, and we recognized that as a miracle and thanked God for that although we could not possibly understand His ways. Why should we suffer so? But, at that time, we also did not know that the most difficult way was yet before us.

And so the train rattled on, day and night. Oftentimes, it would halt due to the bombed out track. The German army had advanced into the Caucasus and for a time, we could hear the thundering of the canons which greatly terrorized us and brought many disruptions in our progress. We saw many trains that had been bombed into smithereens. Our train remained intact. That again was a miracle of God.

There were no bathroom facilities provided in these boxcars. When the train halted, there was no place for some privacy, and we were not allowed to stray far from the train. Therefore, when we were allowed off the train, there was just no spot where we could place our feet. One plague was followed by another and thus we travelled – stop and go, stop and go – until we arrived at the huge Volga River. Whenever the German aircraft were spotted, the train stopped, all the passengers hurried from the train in a frantic search for shelter. What a  turbulence that was, as children cried, women screamed, and everyone feared the bombs of an air raid. This went on day and night for the first two weeks. Nerves became so frayed and shattered; all were in great fear. Nights were so long and dark, and the death penalty was the reward for anyone creating any kind of light.

We crossed over the Volga in the dark of night and no doors or windows dared to be opened. Thus we travelled on, and it seemed the train picked up some speed after this, but the steppes of Kazakhstan are so vast that we spent another two weeks in this railroad confinement. Although our greatest war-fears were now somewhat diminished, a greater fear and need now presented itself – namely, hunger and frost.

In late October, Kazakhstan is already quite cold. Our scanty clothing and our stressed out bodies could not cope well, and our food rations were so minimal. Even though all food had been so sparingly rationed, yet we were nearing the end of our supply before reaching the destination. And you must understand, all these weeks there had been no possibility of cleanliness for bodies and clothing. Thus the lice population had greatly multiplied and for two more weeks we had no choice but to put up with these unwelcome travel companions. Finally we were able to disembark the train at Semipalatinsk, where we boarded a ship and sailed for one night up the Irtysch River.

On November 2, 1941, at Dalonj, we were released onto an open field where for three nights and three days we were under the open heavens. Following this all us transients from this train ride were distributed among the surrounding villages. The villages were primarily Cossacks, but there were also some Russian villages whose inhabitants had been deported during Czarist time. Those of us entering the Russian villages were actually privileged over the others for we at least got potatoes to eat, while the Cossacks could offer no food.

The Cossacks, being nomadic people, and having had their cattle seized by the Collective farms, suffered to the point of starvation. Therefore, they were forced to steal from the Communes, and they stole cattle, sheep, and event horses to use as food. They usually partook of their food at night.

My parents and we children were brought to a Russian village and taken there by oxcart. While this trip was only about 30 km, we needed almost 3 days to get there. The drivers who came from the village to get us had no feed for the oxen and so from time to time, the oxen had to be unhitched, giving them freedom to graze and feed themselves. While the oxen grazed, we gathered twigs and kindling for a fire. Using a rock, a string or wick of sorts, and a hard piece of iron or steel, a fire was eventually started. They did not have matches. Once the fire was ablaze, we began cooking our supper which consisted of grits and wheat kernels, which we still had left over from our home. We occupied ourselves with shaking the lice out of our pants and shirts into the blazing fire. We finally arrived at a Russian village named “Buras”. My brother Jakob, at the time of this writing, still lives in the vicinity of this village.

It was late evening when we arrived, only to find that the villagers feared us, for they had been told some German people were coming who grew horns on their heads, and that they were of those who had conquered Russia. The objective of this fear-mongering was to cause them to hate us even before they had an knowledge of us. And so we and the Lutheran people with whom we had lived in the Caucasus for nearly seven years became scattered among these various Cossack villages.

Thus we arrived in our new homeland just before winter – empty-handed, sparsely clothed, and no roof over our heads. Our mother was usually ill, and now I too became ill. This became a heavy burden for our family, for I was usually the leader (Vorgaenger) and now I was bedridden for six months, even to unconsciousness part of the time.

My father, together with my brothers, established a dwelling of sorts at a Russian’s place, who had a vacant, useable room which we superficially repaired and moved into. This, however, was not a permanent home and from here on we really became a scattered bunch. The menfolk were conscripted into the so-called army, which, in actuality, was one of he many labour camps situated throughout northern Russia. Thus our family was torn apart, and David was the first one to go to Sverdlovsk. I was also to be called, but due to my poor physical condition, being unable to walk as a result of my illness, they let me stay put. Things never looked more dismal than at this point. Our existence seemed so utterly hopeless. We could not work for food and no firewood was available. The wooded area where we could have found some kindling and dry branches was approximately 15 km away from us, but it was no small matter to trudge through the deep snow to get there.

At this point, the Lord sent to us a undreamed of blessing. In my earlier years of school attendance, I had saved up quite a number of school scribblers, which we had taken with us on this journey. Now it so happened that we could exchange them for potatoes; four scribblers for a pail of potatoes. We ate them mostly without any salt because that was another staple we could not lay hold of. Also, there was no lard or fat for our consumption. Thus it took until May 1942 before I was barely on my feet again.

Following this, we were all allowed to work on the Collective farm again – myself, Johann, Gerhard, and Abram had to plow the fields with oxen, while father and Jakob tended to the sheep. Our work locations were about 45-50 km apart from father’s job. At first, our mother stayed with us, but when the plowing season ended, she took Gerhard and Abram and joined our father, with the sheep. After several days, I and also my brother, Johann, had to go join them, so that except for David, we were all together again.

On this Collective farm, we worked for no other salary than one little piece of bread, which was measured or weighed for us, but we were thankful and happy that we at least had some bread to eat. Of course, the bread was of very poor, rough quality and as we chewed it, the sand grated between our teeth, but the bitter kernels of seed found in the grain only served to spice up our appetites. We made no fuss over the quality of the bread. The only problem was, there was never enough of it. When bread gets weighed or measured, it’s not hard to understand that it will be scarcely enough to survive on.

In August of 1942, I was separated from my parents and later, in the autumn of that same year, Johann and Jakob were also taken. My parents stayed back with Gerhard and Abram, and the rest of us brothers had no idea of the whereabouts of each other.  There was almost no mail service, no letter-writing possibilities, no paper, no pencils, and no money for postage stamps. There was also precious little time for letter writing. Besides that, we didn’t know where our people were – knew no addresses to write to. Thus the German families lay so thoroughly scattered that it would take years of searching and heartbreak to hopefully find one another again.

NOTE: At this time, the two youngest were 13 and 11 years of age. The four oldest were 20, 19 (Aron), 17, and 15.

In continuing my story, from here on, I can only write about myself since we were each to his own and knew nothing of the whereabouts of the rest of the family. Each one’s circumstances and the experiences of each of us varied greatly. Only in one aspect were they all alike. Everywhere, in all camps, people were so hungry and dying of starvation.

In August 1942, I was drafted into the working force (Arbeits Armee), but it was more like a detention camp, and so, behind that barbed-wire enclosure, I was kept until March 1954 (12 years), with no prospect of ever being released, since this place was a guarded secret from the rest of the world. It was a construction site designed for various kinds of atomic processes and tests, and actually, became use for this.

The years from 1942 – 1948 were extremely difficult to survive. Besides the suffering from hunger, heavy work and the bitter cold, torture (ethnic cleansing) was added to the stress. In October 1942, I was called before the council of the N.K.V.D. six times and that was certainly no enviable experience, but rather more like torture to be under their claws. Those experiences would make a story all their own, so I’ll just superficially describe them here.

The whole intent and stiving of the N.K.V.D. was to torture and annihilate the Germans, and these hearings were so designed to trap people in their own words so they would end up reporting on one another. Six times I was called before them, and mostly during the night. Such a variety of questionings designed to bring utter confusion to the brain. Not only did they question, but they also tortured us and threatened to use their pistols on us, holding them before the face. They also threatened me that way. I was to admit to something and sign a document of which I knew nothing. By such tactics they coerced people to sign anything put before them and they had no idea what they were signing.

It was in these dreadfully fear filled times where I constantly saw death before me. The Word of God became so great to me that I surrendered my life to the Lord Jesus Christ and received Him as my personal Saviour. I much rather wanted to fall into the hands of the Lord than into the hands of these wicked ruffians. 2 Samuel 24:14 – “And David said: ‘I am in great distress. Please let us fall into the hands of the Lord, for His mercies are great; but do not let me fall into the hands of man.” At that time, I had no Bible and also did not know where these verses were to be found, but I was assured of having been accepted by the Lord. Therefore, I was now a babe in Christ with no growth as yet. I was also a Believer, but without any Bible knowledge and without any fellowship with other Believers. A tree in the desert, receiving no water, will soon wither and die, and that’s what happened to me. However, I did maintain one thing; I occasionally prayed, secretly, at night, when all the others ere sleeping. I do not know if there were any other Believers in this camp, but if so, there was just no way of finding them. Any discussions about God’s Word were a total impossibility.

Our daily existence until 1945 was extremely pathetic and most of the people died during 1941 – 1945. The reason: hunger, frost, and very hard work, added to that the low morale and the torture by the N.K.V.D. Such a life could so easily lead to despair and no faith in God; could He possibly be a God of love and allow these atrocities to continue on? And yet – read Psalm 107! There is much we don’t understand, yet one thing remains clear: Today, in almost all parts of Russia we see that Believers’ churches have sprung up.

While Stalin was in power, there was no possibility for people to express any self-enterprise or private undertakings. Faith in God was to be totally eradicated. The whole nation was under strict control, and especially so the Germans. Each month they had to appear to sign for their continued presence in any given area. Throughout all of Russia, orders were in place, and all Germans and all others under suspicion were under constant surveillance of these men. Whoever was found missing at one of these spontaneous ‘roll-calls’ received punishment, and even after Stalin had disappeared from the scene, his orders remained in place and enforced. All government officials lived in fear of even dropping a word against Stalin and his projects. Every suspicious person received the death penalty.

As for myself, and all those who worked in Secret Zones, or occupations, received some added impositions upon them – an order to remain silent. Almost regularly, a monthly questionnaire of 36 to 42 questions was handed to us for answering, hurriedly, and right before the commandant’s eyes. Every question must have a totally complete answer. The purpose of these questions was to determine the thoughts and attitudes of the people, whether there were any plots against the government. They also pertained to parents and grand-parents. What was their ancestry and what were their occupations during Czarist rule? The basic, main questions were repeated every month but formulated differently. Following the last question, there was a warning and a threat. If even only one answer did not agree with reality, then that individual was sentenced to 25 years of imprisonment, followed by 5 years of banishment to Siberia, and another 5 years of no citizenship rights. A total sentence of 35 years.

I can’t possibly list all the different questions that they asked of us, but the main purpose was: #1 – to accurately determine the ancestry of families and their thoughts; #2 – to keep state secrets a secret. From time to time, these questionnaires would be monitored and if an answer did not agree perfectly with a former one, these people were called before the Council and in many cases, never returned. Who on earth can retain all these answers so accurately in their head, and just exactly how they were previously answered? It was impossible to notate any comment on paper and try to keep it for yourself. Pressure was applied to answer quickly and before their very eyes. Then they were compared to the previous many that had already been asked. If the answers did not agree that person was brought before the Council for a hearing and then they disappeared forever. Thus we lived under constant pressure and fear.

 In the course of time, some things have already changed, but only in small measure. As an example, under the ‘Regime’, the churches of the Believers were totally disturbed, or wiped out, and one couldn’t find a church anywhere. However, now we see that churches have sprung up in almost all places across the vast country of Russia. Establishing a church for Believers there is always accompanied with great difficulties, as they are pressured, disturbed, and persecuted, but they do exist. The Gospel f the Kingdom of God must be preached in all the world as a testimony. Not all will accept it, but all will have heard it. Thus we see today, in spite of many difficulties, the Word of God is being preached throughout all the world. This is a sign that the END of TIME is very near.

And now, I would like to return to the point in time that I spent in the Secret Zone, behind the barbed wire. That time posed a futureless despair for me as death was constantly before me/us, and every day could easily be the last one. Thus one year passed after another.

On December 16, 1947, a tumultuous change was introduced across all of Russia, as our food coupons (cards/stamps) were scrapped, and the money was devalued. Ten rubles now became one ruble in value. Food supplies, however, were still very inadequate and in short supply. The people, old women and children would get up at night to stand in the lineup at the doors of the grocery store to purchase bread and other staples. It also happened that when the doors did open in the morning, the press of the crowd was so strong that people were crushed to death. It also occurred that certain foods and other wares which were difficult to obtain could be gotten by ‘knowing the right people’, by underhanded methods. To an extent, this is still done today. Usually it is more expensive that way because the middleman also wants his commission on it. Such transactions proceed most secretly.

I will now skip over a few years to the time where I was able to leave the Secret Zone. Again, that is a whole story in itself and so unbelievable that it would ever actually happen. But God guided it that I could once again see my parents before they died and spend a short time with them. I left the Secret Zone in March of 1954, which was located in the vicinity of Kyschtym in the Urals.

Before leaving, I had to sign several documents to the effect that I would neither reveal nor betray any secrets, for this place should not be known to the world. The surrounding area knew very little of this place and it does not appear on any maps of Russia. This Zone was so strictly and strongly guarded that it was impossible to get near this place. Then, wonder of wonders, I was allowed out! All exit points were heavily guarded and equipped with thorough search rooms. So they did their thorough job on me to see whether I might be taking some forbidden contraband with me from the Secret Zone. I had to undress completely, and each article of clothing was searched, shaken, and tossed aside. At this point we had no more lice on us or the searchers may even have counted them individually. When they found nothing illegal on me, I was allowed to get dressed and to repack my messed-up belongings. One more threat to remain silent was pressed upon me and we drove off into a new freedom.

There were a few others who were allowed to leave the zone with me, and we took a truck to the train station in the town of Kyshtym. I was given strict rules about the route I was allowed to drive and how I should conduct myself while on the road. The slightest deviation from these rules would result in my arrest. The journey began and my destination was the city of Karaganda. This was to be our meeting point and also our new home. On arrival in Karaganda, I was told to report immediately to the commandant’s office. So I sat on the train and thought about the past twelve and a half years that I had spent behind barbed wire. The best time, my youth, was spent there in the most difficult conditions. And before that, I had lived for almost seven years in a Lutheran village where people lived an immoral lifestyle. Over time, the Michelsdorf German residents have intermarried with the Russians and other peoples, so that you could hardly find a German family there. I also spent most of those twelve and a half years with such Lutherans – colonists. In terms of culture, some of them were still far behind the Russians. That’s why I couldn’t adapt to their customs and habits.

Karaganda
And so I came to Karaganda and Karaganda became the gathering place where our family would come together again. It’s a big city, it could be as big as half a million inhabitants. It was founded in the early 1930s, and initially, only criminals were banished there. And during the war years, all Germans were regarded as criminals just because of their ethnicity. Many Germans were also deported to Karaganda to work in the many coal mines. At first they were all behind barbed wire, but after the war, in 1946-1947, the barbed wire was dismantled. However, the workers were not allowed to visit their families, so many men or fathers had their families come to them. This was accomplished with great difficulties, but it was possible. In this way, Karaganda became a meeting point for many Germans and Mennonites. Industry grew in Karaganda and increasingly more qualified workers were needed. And so my two youngest brothers, Gerhard and Abram, were summoned there following the war*. Everything was under the strict supervision of the commandant’s office, but the barbed wire was already gone. Only the criminals and prisoners of war remained trapped in the zone, and there were many of them there. Criminals didn’t just include murderers or thieves, but Believers were also regarded as such.

* At that time, young men were enrolled in a kind of vocational school. Abram trained as an electrician and Gerhard became a locksmith.

A Family Reunited
When my brothers Gerhard and Abram became a little better known in this town, they sent for our parents. They were accompanied by someone from the commandant’s office so that they would not disappear somewhere else and remain without prospects. This move was not an easy journey for our parents. Father was already 67 years old, and mother was ill. The road to the station was not paved, as we were used to in Germany or Canada, but simply sand. And the distance they had to travel was about three hundred kilometers. They were allowed to sit on top of a truck, which was already fully loaded. The journey took a few days until they reached the train station in the city of Pavlodar. Then the journey continued by train. But they still had to change trains a few times before they reached Karaganda. So Karaganda was the place where we saw each other again after 13 years.

My brother Jakob had been discharged from the labor army while our parents were still living in Buras. Soon afterwards he married Maria Schwarz, a Lutheran. There were no Mennonites in the village at the time, and because all Germans were under the control of the commandant’s office, there was nowhere else to go. So Jakob and his wife stayed in Buras.

My brothers, David and Johann, married at the location where they were released from the labor camps. Johann took a Russian wife, and four of us brothers have Mennonite wives. David and Johann also moved to Karaganda with their families in 1954. Jakob and his wife came to visit, for the family reunion in Karaganda.

A Russian Baptist congregation had already existed in Karaganda at the time. It consisted mostly of Mennonites and Germans, with a few Russians among them. The question might arise as to why it was not a German or Mennonite Brethren congregation. It is almost impossible to answer in a few words, but I will try to explain it as briefly as possible. Stalin was the greatest opponent and persecutor of all congregations and anything religious. When he saw that he was going to lose the war and was already sinking, he called a small secret meeting in Yalta, on the Crimean peninsula, attended only by Stalin, Roosevelt and Churchill. At this secret meeting, Stalin asked America and England for help. These leaders promised to help him if he would open up the churches. Stalin agreed, just to get help. But this was not publicized in the country.

Re-establishment of a Church Community
After several years, the war ended. One day a number of brothers came together and held a prayer meeting. They were probably not noticed by anyone. And so they began to meet more often. Others joined them and took part in the prayers. So this group grew bigger and bigger to the point that it could not be concealed. Some of the brothers were taken away for questioning but released again and ordered to register. Although the meetings were not permitted, they were tolerated. When registering, the congregation also had to have a name. The name Mennonite was not allowed to appear at all. Preaching was only allowed in Russian so that the authorities could check what was being said. It was common practice that no meetings were allowed to take place in Russia unless a representative from the Communist Party was present. They always suspected that something was being said against the authorities or that an uprising was being prepared. Nevertheless, the congregation grew, as there was a great hunger for the word of God. Our father was also allowed to visit this church.

Soon after our family reunion in Karaganda, our parents died. Father died on December 12, 1955, and mother on May 9, 1957, of hunger.
In 1957, some brothers and their families separated from the Baptist congregation and founded a Mennonite Brethren congregation. We were also allowed to join this congregation through baptism. My brother, Gerhard, and his family continue to worship in the same congregation.

Germany
Gerhard and his family would also like to emigrate to Germany. I have sent them another invitation (Wysow); perhaps they will succeed this year. My brother Jakob and his wife Maria also want to come to Germany. They have three daughters who are all married to Russians.

We have been in Germany for ten years now. Following us, Abram and his family and then David and his family, emigrated to Germany. We are grateful to the Lord that he brought us out of such tribulation. And now our task is to help others get out of it. Life in Russia has improved quite a bit in recent years, but it’s no comparison to Germany or Canada. We have been allowed to keep some livestock in recent years (presumably Russia that he is referencing). A cow and a pig, but we had to steal or buy stolen fodder, and that always had to be done at night. So people were constantly living a life of crime. I could write a lot more about this, but anyone who has not lived through it themselves cannot understand it.

In this description, I have only described a very small part of what happened. If someone were to read this who had gone through the same thing, they would say: “Why didn’t you write this or that?” You could have written for years and there would have been a big book and still not everything would have been included.

Final Words of Caution
Well, I have no idea how this reunion (Funk reunion in Edmonton) will be organized, how many days are planned and what will be presented. And most of it will probably be held in English. It is actually a great pity that our Mennonites have allowed themselves to be turned away from Mennonitism in this way. In Russia many have mixed with the colonists and Russians, and in Canada with the English. These mixtures usually bring about a decline in the life of faith. And the young people find that difficult to understand. We also have enough Bible passages to warn us about this. I would just like to list a few.

Beware that you do not make a covenant with the inhabitants of the land when you enter it, lest they become a snare for you; Exodus 34:12 Lest you make a covenant with the inhabitants of the land, and when they go after their gods and sacrifice to their gods, they invite you and you eat of their sacrifice, 16 and that you take your sons their daughters as wives and then go after their gods, and make your sons go after their gods. Exodus 34:15-16 You shall not make a covenant with them or with their gods; Exodus 23:32 And you shall not make friends with them: you shall not give your daughters to their sons, nor take their daughters for your sons. 4 For they will turn your sons away from me to serve other gods, and the wrath of the LORD will be kindled against you and will soon destroy you. Deuteronomy 7:3-4 These biblical passages draw our attention to the fact that we are to remain with our people. It is even a command from God because it says everywhere: You shall! It is perhaps also an omission on the part of parents that they do not teach their children seriously enough. In Deuteronomy 6:7 it is written as a strict command: “And you shall inculcate them in your children and speak of them when you sit in your house or walk by the way, when you lie down or rise up. As parents, we have often neglected this “inculcation” or not done it to a sufficient degree.

In conclusion, I would like to add my opinion or suggestion. Every event at this reunion, however many there will be, should at the same time serve as an evangelization to show souls the way to Jesus, if there will be those who are still in the world. Each event should be marked with singing and prayer and the Word of God. Speak to one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, singing and making melody in your hearts to the Lord, Eph 5:19. Let the word of Christ dwell among you richly in all wisdom, teaching and admonishing one another in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs of love, singing in your hearts to the Lord, Col. 3, 16.

And now I would like to apologize for my poor writing. I only write with one finger on the typewriter, so sometimes letters are left out or the wrong letters appear. While checking, I noticed that words have been left out in some places. I don’t have time to rewrite everything again, and I’m not sure if it would be any better if I did. So please overlook these mistakes. In some words the last letter is missing – the thoughts are already on the next word and so the last letter is automatically lost.

I would like to thank you once again for your kind invitation. I would have loved to be there to get to know our relatives better, but this time I don’t see any possibility of coming. If you will have a prayer fellowship at this meeting, then I ask that you also pray for my brothers Jakob and Gerhard and cousin, Heinrich Funk, and their families, that they might also be able to come out of Russia.

And finally, I wish all participants in this Funk reunion a happy get-together and God’s rich blessing on everything!

See you again!
With love

Aron Funk and family.
01.05.1987

Aron wrote this memoir so that he might send it to Edmonton, Alberta in 1987 for an extended Funk family reunion. Aron visited his Funk relatives in Canada on two occasions, and continued corresponding with Margaret (Funk) Dyck in Alberta. His last letter (1991) shared about his loneliness, due to his wife’s passing the previous year. Aron died of heart failure on 25 April 1992, at the age of 68.