From a Cattle Wagon to Jerusalem. Svetlana Galaganova

I was born on June 1, 1941 in Dnepropetrovsk, Ukraine. From the first days of the war, my father, a career officer, was sent to the front. My mother was left alone with me, a three-week-old baby.

Unfortunately, the military factories were the first to be evacuated. The Germans were already near the city, but we were still there. There were not enough train cars for people, and we ended up in an open livestock wagon. Along the way, we were often under fire, and people hid wherever they could.

My mother had no time to take anything with her, just a small purse with documents, a bit of money, and a few of my things. We traveled to the Urals for two months, moving slowly because of constant bombings. There was so much grief, blood, and tears. By August, the nights were very cold, and we had no warm clothing.

My mother never put me down. She kept me in her arms, warming me with her body, while she suffered from the cold and hunger. She saved what little money she had to buy milk for me and, if possible, a bit of bread for herself. She wrapped herself in scraps of cloth given by strangers. She remembered their kindness for the rest of her life because it was hard for everyone.

As we approached the Urals, it got even colder. When we arrived in Orsk, snow had already begun to fall. We sat at the train station for four days before finding a place to stay. Local residents were hesitant to accept evacuees with small children, so my mother was offered a dugout shelter with a small stove.

At last, we could warm up and wash, but food was still scarce. My mother had to go work at a factory. The problem was me. There were no nurseries, and no one to watch me. Her workplace allowed her to come home during lunch to feed me, then she returned to work while I stayed alone in the dugout. Someone helped her make a crib for me out of two chairs, where I stayed while she was away.

That was how we lived, adapting to the conditions we faced. I did not receive proper nutrition, and by age two, I still had no hair or teeth. Sadly, the suffering of those years left lasting effects on my health. The evacuation years were incredibly hard, but we survived.

Today, we live in Jerusalem, the holiest place on earth, and we thank God for everything we have.