The Mathematics of Survival

A woman struggling to look after her children during the Siege of Leningrad finds that hunger and desperation are the real enemies. [Trigger warning - distressing content, based on true events]

13th October 1941

I thought I'd write things down for you, dear Vladimir. I don't know how you are or if you will ever read this, but it may turn out that you're in a better situation than most of us here - perhaps the NKVD did you a favour, in a way!

I jest of course, sweet husband; but I hope at least they are feeding you in the gulag. (Who would have thought that Stalin would feel so threatened by poets and writers?) Here in Leningrad the siege worsens by the day. Our rations have been cut - only 125g each of bread each now, and I swear to you it is mainly sawdust. Sad to say, our home has been destroyed by the enemy bombing... most of the hospitals are gone now too. There were six air raids in one day in September! They haven't let up and unfortunately last week we got back to find the house was just rubble. Hitler wants to wipe us out and raze the city to the ground. First Stalin's purges and now this! Is there no end to what we must endure? 

Don't worry, we are living in the old factory where I used to work, in happier times... how peaceful it was to sew with the other women! How carefree our lives seemed then, in comparison - though we did not know it at the time and had the usual gripes about our families or our wages! Well, when I heard that the Ivanovs had been killed, I knew I was the only key-holder left. We only had the clothes we were standing up in and a few things for the baby. Luckily I have all our ration cards, and we need to always be vigilant; many people have been murdered for theirs. 

I was in a panic though when we got here because the temperature is plummeting by the day and I worried the children would freeze to death in the night. I ran through the factory searching, and what would you know... the big old bearskin rug was still on the floor in Mr Ivanov's office! That rug keeps us from freezing - I wrap us and the children into it every night and we huddle together for body heat while I sing lullabies to soothe Maria, Aleksei and baby Olga. 

10th January 1941: 

It's getting harder to keep the children fed - the rations go so quickly. Today when I went to get our meagre pickings the stench of death was everywhere. Bodies are lying where they drop. There's talk of  arrests for cannabalism and murder. There are no horses or pets left in the city, our little kitty had to go in the pot months ago - we sacrificed any tenderness we felt for her and in return she gave us 4 days' worth of surprisingly tender meat. We count ourselves extremely lucky whenever we manage to trap a rat. I fight daily against a growing sense of apathy.  Hunger and cold are breaking us down. 

I'm afraid my milk is starting to dry up. Baby Olga's screams grow more desperate.

31st March 1942

Today on my walk I saw a falcon swoop from the sky and grab a crow with its cruel talons.  As I watched, the falcon eyed me back, coldly, as it dug its claws in deeper to the crow which was pinned to the ground. That crow never stood a chance. When I got home I began to shake. I've seen death's face and it scares me how dispassionate it is, how merciless.  I'm so scared for the children, Vladimir. 

9th August, 1942

Things have been pretty bleak, but today your friend Dimitri's 7th symphony was broadcast in the streets and with speakers facing enemy lines!  It spoke to me of the evils of tyranny, the dangers of capitulating to fascism. I wept from the bottom of my heart for our beautiful Leningrad reduced to rubble and all of our friends and family who have been slaughtered, and for you dear Vladimir and the evils of our own government. As I looked around me, others were weeping openly too. A feeling rose in my breast that we would triumph, that the enemy would be defeated. We gave a great shout as it ended, hoping that the Germans would hear and be awed at our defiance.

But on the way home I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror  - it was such a shock! I remembered how you loved my red lips, the swell of my breasts under my dress - now, you would not be able to tell that I am female. My face is scrawny, my eyes and chest are sunken. My limbs protrude like spindly twigs. I am a living skeleton but with a little round belly like a poisoned pup. I started laughing hysterically before I remembered that I've got to keep it together for the children's sake. 

20th August 1942

Today I tried to feed Olga and my milk had gone. She was wailing, weakly. I could see it clearly - the mathematics of survival dictating that all four of us were never going to make it. The two older children have the only chance.

 I wrapped our darling gently in the bearskin rug while singing softly to her. Her crying grew muffled and then stopped as I pressed the rug to her face. I held her tightly to me, for a long time. 

Maria and Aleksei did not question where the meat came from, they ate frantically and believed me when I said I'd found some horse-meat. They haven't asked about Olga. Vladimir, there are no tears left in this withered husk, only the indifference of the doomed.  I can feel death's claws in me, his beady cold eye fixed on mine -  my only thought is to help them survive one day longer, one hour more - another minute. 

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