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When the war broke out in 1941, I was twelve, just like my husband.
We didn't have any freight wagons.
My father had a carriage with two horses.
So, he packed up whatever he could and whatever we needed.
Across the street, over there, was the house we lived in
and next to it was another house where he [my father] worked.
Although he was a coachman he worked very hard.
He got up in the morning. It was July 20th.
The war had already been going on for a month.
He put us onto the carriage: myself, two sisters, two brothers, and
my mother, who, may she rest in peace, is in the other world with my father.
And also my brother's wife with their child.
And we drove all the way from Bratslav to the Donbas, to Lugansk.
We traveled with the horses for six weeks, day and night.