After crossing from the German zone with my daughter, in November 1939, I settled in the little border town of Domachevo. Understandably, it was teeming with refugees, both Jewish and gentile, fleeing the German occupation. Imagine my delight to find myself reunited not only with my beloved husband Shmuel, but also with my younger brother Yossel. The tears that flowed that day could have floated a battleship, but my conscience was constantly pricked by the thought of the family still in Warsaw.

I resolved therefore that it was my duty to return as soon as possible, to persuade the family to join us in Domachevo and then possibly settle in Russia. At that early stage of the war, we believed Russia to be safe from Hitler's marauding hordes. None of us suspected the magnitude of the horror that was unfolding in our lives.

My plan was to re-cross the River Bug. Having done so once, I considered myself a veteran who knew all the tricks of border smuggling. I would make my way to Warsaw, meet with all my family and friends and convince them that it was not a flight into the unknown. Domachevo already had a flourishing Jewish community consisting of many of their friends, and life could go on just as it had before the war. Even my sister-in-law Cesia, would have to concede that. The memory of our parting in Warsaw was still painful. We had grown very close since Shmuel had left, and Nina absolutely adored her. It had not occurred to me to leave without her but when the time came, she was as stubborn as a mule and would not come with us.

"Are you mad?" she cried. "You've spent a lifetime struggling to achieve a little something, and now you want to walk out and leave it. ? You have a beautiful apartment, money in the bank, a community in which you are well regarded. Why leave? Because some foreign madman wants to play war games? But the war is over there. Let him play his games with the French and the British and leave us in peace."

"Cesia, you may be right. I do not want to leave but at the same time, I do not want to raise my children under these circumstances. True, I am leaving much behind but I stand to gain much more - the right to live like a free human being, not a slave."

"Ridiculous!" she snorted. "You will be back, you'll see. I'll be here waiting. I'll look after the place for you".

How tragically wrong was her judgement !

I certainly believed that I would be back in Warsaw and would be able to relate my newly found intelligence of what awaited them on the Russian side. I was confident that soon we would all be together and pick up our lives again.

Sometimes it seems that there is a puppeteer manipulating our lives and our fate. Here in Domachevo, a Red Army officer whose responsibility was to police the border, sealed our fate with his advice. His job was to re-settle those refugees deemed acceptable into the Soviet homeland. Although he himself was Jewish I now see that his prime allegiance was to "Workers of the World Unite". When I told him of my plans, he spoke to me as a friend.

"My dear lady. What a horrible risk for something that can be achieved so easily through the proper channels. Border crossings are becoming more dangerous every day. As the situation intensifies, the chances are that if the Germans don't get you, our own boys will. Now, let me present you with a more sensible alternative, one that entails no risk and has a good chance of success. My advice is simply this. Sign on as a volunteer to go and work in one of our provincial centres. Both you and your husband will be found appropriate jobs in your own professions. Your child will be placed in a kindergarten, receive a free ration of fruit and milk every day and be far from the turbulence. When you arrive, it is a simple matter to register with the local authorities as sponsors for those whom you wish to bring across. The Red Cross will then arrange for them to be repatriated without having to dodge bullets at the border."

Although I was a little uneasy about this rather seemingly sound argument, Shmuel's absolute insistence that I not go back, settled the issue. We duly registered for re-settlement in Talitza, a little village near Letka, in the northern republic of Komi ASSR, where accommodation, clothing and work would be provided. My joy was further enhanced when Yossel also signed up. I reasoned that in a few weeks, we would all be together again. Who knows if I did the right thing in allowing myself to be dissuaded.

Arriving at Komi, we found a wretched, Godforsaken rural community. We were billeted with a peasant family who obviously resented our intrusion. The only available work was tree felling in sub-zero temperatures and there was no kindergarten or school of any description. True, warm clothing was provided but that was the only promise fulfilled. The thought of leaving my Nina with the old peasant woman, whose habits and hygiene disgusted me, was intolerable, so I resolved to stay home while Shmuel and Yossel went out into the forest. This meant that I would not receive a food ration but between us there should be enough to eat and my daughter would be well cared for.

Let me not dwell on the futility of my attempts to arrange contact with the family left behind. Despite numerous visits, the bureaucrat, who was responsible for family reunions, was totally uninterested in my 'little' problem. Even had there been the possibility of such an arrangement (which we learnt later there was not), in the end, as Hitler mounted Operation Barbarossa against Russia, it disappeared and I swallowed the bitter realisation that I had been duped by the Jewish officer in Domachevo.

Had I followed my instincts and returned to Poland, I may well have perished along with my family. Reason tells me that the chance of escape was at best very slim, but to this day I wonder if I really did enough. Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps I owe my life to that officer. Not only I but my two sons, six grandsons and, at time of writing, two great-grandsons. However, those of us who survived must always bear a small portion of guilt. By what right are we still here when so many good lives were needlessly and brutally cut short ?

Meanwhile, back in Komi, life ground on. At first, there was some attempt to create a communal awareness. Although coming from different backgrounds, we all found ourselves in an alien environment, with nothing to look forward to but hard work. As we later discovered, ours was the only voluntary mass migration to the area. In fact, it was really an exile destination where the Soviet government deported undesirables. However, when we first arrived, the promises that had lured us there were still fresh in our minds and we were all determined to make the best of it. Dances, community singing, lectures and other communal activities were organised mainly by the young people. But when it became obvious that we had been tricked into coming to this backwater, a trickle of volunteers packed up and moved on. As the trickle became a torrent, it was mainly these same young people who had so actively worked to hold our community together who were at its forefront. Soon Yossel found himself, the youngest remaining.

"Why stay?" I asked him one day. "There is nothing here for you. Your life is just wasting away. Leave now. There is a whole world out there. This community is no more.".

"So why would I go and leave Nina, Shmuel and you to rot away in this rathole? As long as we stick together we will overcome. I will leave only when you all come with me."

"Yossel, be practical. How can we leave? True, we were provided with transport here, but to leave here we will have to walk. Look at my swollen feet. I am pregnant. How far do you think I will be able to walk? And Nina? No, you must leave now and we will join you when we can.".

"Out of the question," he replied. "You stay. I stay."

Fate had other ideas. No doubt, he would have remained had it not been for an accident at work. Whilst chopping a tree, Yossel failed to hear a warning as a forest giant toppled toward him. Trapped underneath, he was fortunate to escape with nothing worse than bruising and a severe shaking. On arriving home, he said to us:

"We cannot stay here. It is too dangerous. I was lucky this time, but next time could be the end for Shmuel or me. Let's face it, these peasants think of us as expendable or intolerable nuisances. Maybe it was an accident, maybe not, but this is no place for us."

"That is what I have been telling you for weeks," I interjected. "Go now, we will follow when the weather improves."

Several days later, we accompanied Yossel to a path through the forest that would take him to the main road. We walked without talking, all caught up in the sense of the occasion. To be saying goodbye in such turbulent times was always a wrench, but we had no reason to doubt that we would soon be together in a more civilised environment. At last we stopped and choked out our farewells, promising to stay in touch and be reunited as quickly as possible. How could I know as I watched my little brother disappear into the wood that I was not to see him again.