In 1932 my family was living in Belorussia (in the village of Mostishche, Vitebsk Province)[ . . . ] We had two horses, one cow, two pigs, and our own land for plowing. We planted rye and everything we needed to eat. My father took care of the whole family, and took the extra produce to the market. We led a peaceful life. Then they summoned my father to the village soviet and asked him to join the collective farm. He refused. So they arrested him, and a few weeks later my mother received an official letter, read it, and cried for a very long time. They took our horses for the collective farm, and when our food ran out my mother took me to Kharkov and left me at a railway station there. After that I was picked up and sent via a child receiver-distributor to the Kalinin Children's Home in Pavlovsk, Voronezh Province.