Zakelj Diary Home Page: http://zakeljdiary.s5.com/

ESCAPE FROM COMMUNISM

© 2001

By Anton Zakelj, translated and edited by John Zakelj

Introduction

We are deeply grateful to the American Home for publishing the story of our first years in America. Some of our readers have asked, "Why did you leave Slovenia? How did you come to America? How did you go from being a business manager in Slovenia to a manual laborer in America?"

In 1995, American Home published "The Liberation of Ziri," which presented my diary from January to October 1943. It described life in my hometown of Ziri, Slovenia under German occupation and my experience as a German hostage when the Germans left Ziri on October 23, 1943. We now pick up where that article ended:

Sunday, October 24, 1943

Yesterday, the German army left Ziri, but they took me and 7 other men from our village with them - as hostages. They made sure that all the villagers understood that, if a single shot was fired at the retreating Germans, they would immediately shoot me and the other hostages. When the Germans took me at gunpoint early yesterday, my fiancee Cilka cried. She thought she would never see me again.

The Germans kept their machine guns pointed at me and the other hostages all day as they prepared for departure. They mobilized all transport vehicles from the entire Poljansko Valley, drove to our shoemakers' workshops and filled the vehicles with about 30,000 pairs of shoes and a large quantity of good quality leather. (Shoemaking is our village's main industry.)

At 6:30 p.m., we were marched into a bus which then left as part of a German convoy. As we passed our family home, I heard my father praying the rosary for me.

Not far from town, the convoy drove past a ravine that could be a good location for a partisan (communist) ambush. The sweat started streaming down my face. But there was no ambush and the convoy continued on. As we got further away from Ziri, I worried that the partisans in that area had not heard the German warning and might not know that we were hostages in the convoy. But again, not a shot was fired. Around 10 p.m.., the Germans finally let us go. We found a family that let us sleep in their barn overnight. The next morning (today), we found someone who gave us a ride back to Ziri. We arrived just as people were leaving the church.

We were warmly welcomed today, but attention soon shifted to our new reality. Ziri is now under the control of the local communist partisans. There really is no government in Jugoslavia, so our town is now its own republic. Will Ziri become the workers' paradise promised by the communists? A few months ago, Milan Zakelj, the local partisan politkomisar, talked with me for hours about how wonderful everything would be when they take over: "When we win, we will plant pine trees all over Zirovski hill ... When we win, we will plant potatoes on the field by the Sora, and they'll be the best potatoes in the world ... When we win, we'll move all the peasants into factories, that is, in their vicinity ... In the beginning, they'll be mad at us, but when they realize that they can earn in eight hours in the factory more than in 16 on the farm, they'll be grateful."

I didn't believe him. I knew what communism was - a Utopia which had already claimed millions of lives in Russia. In our own area, the communists have killed innocent people.

Around 11 this morning, the local partisans posted notices that all men age 16 to 60 should report for duty today at six in the evening at the town hall. Thirteen years ago, I served in the Jugoslav military. Now, at the age of 36, will I have to bear arms again, and this time for a cause I do not support? It makes no sense to fight for ideas which threaten freedom everywhere, but it also makes no sense to fight against the communists. We are too small to oppose either side..

I feel worse today than I did yesterday as a German hostage. I want to just continue my work in the dairy cooperative and the shoemakers' cooperative. If the communists will let me, I will serve my people the best way that I know how.

I waited to report until one minute before six. I wasn't going to run or hide anywhere. I signed in next to number 64. The politkomisar turned to me and asked: "What do you think, how will things go now?" "If you give people food, they'll manage," I said. "Ah, stop being a realist and become an idealist!" he said and then continued: "The people in Belo Krajina have already been eating turnips without butter for two months, and they're satisfied."

Monday, October 25, 1943

About 80 partisans arrived in Ziri this morning. This was the first time that I had seen a group of partisans who were all carrying the same weapons and wearing the same uniforms. They marched down the street, with one of them playing a march on an accordion. Out of curiosity, I greeted one of them with the standard partisan greeting: "Death to fascism!" He gave me a puzzled look, as if to say, "Don't you understand that we're not here by choice?" That was the first and the last time that I used that "modern" greeting.

The partisans called a meeting today for all the workers in our village. I was too busy at the dairy and couldn't go, but I heard about it later. A partisan walked back and forth along a raised walkway in front of the crowd, saying "People say we are communists, but we are not communists." Instead of listening to him, the crowd mostly wondered when he would fall off the raised walkway. Everyone is convinced that life will not be good in our new paradise, especially if we have to waste our workdays in meetings.

Tuesday, October 26, 1943

This morning, I reviewed the inventory at our dairy cooperative. The Germans took most of our cheese when they left. I informed Milan Zakelj, the politkomisar. He told me to wait for further orders from the committee for economic affairs.

Milan asked me if we had paid the farmers who had brought wheat to the dairy. A farmer had complained to the partisan leadership that we had not paid him. This had to do with an arrangement that we had with the Germans to trade some of our wheat for some of their high quality seeds. All the farmers in our area were pleased with this arrangement, except one. That one farmer had brought us mostly chaff, and now he was complaining that we had not paid him. Milan was not satisfied with my explanation. He said, "We will review everything in the dairy, and then we'll decide what to do."

Wednesday, October 27, 1943

This afternoon, the partisans called me, my brother Joze and 8 other men to an interrogation. They wanted to know if we were supporting the "whites" or the "blues".

The partisans refer to the Domobranci (the Home Guard) as the "whites", and the Cetniks as the "blues." The Domobranci are more aligned with the Catholic Church, while the Cetniks support a return of the monarchy (the king of Jugoslavia) and include many officers of the former Jugoslav army. Many "whites" and "blues" were initially partisans, some by choice and some by force. When they realized what the partisans really stood for, they decided to fight against them.

The partisans themselves are the "reds." The partisans are against all established order and mostly want power for themselves. Once, I heard someone ask a partisan why they don't work to unite the reds, whites and blues into one Slovenian flag. The partisan replied: "Of course we suppport that, as long as they all come under our command."

Thursday, October 28, 1943

This morning, I was ordered to turn over management of the dairy to Miss Gojniceva, who is completely confused and incapable of any managerial work.

In the evening, the partisans had a meeting in the town hall. Joze Košir proposed that they let me continue managing the dairy. Miss Gojniceva acknowledged that she is not able to run the dairy. (I had corresponded with her when she was in Auschwitz, and I think she also wanted to help me, so I would not have to be drafted for military duty.) Milan and the others agreed to let me stay. I tried to convince them to let my brother Joze stay with me, but they couldn't agree about that. He and 4 other men were led away to the partisan outpost in Ledine to prepare for military action.

Saturday, October 30, 1943

My brother and the other men who had been sent to the partisan outpost returned. I think they were judged to be not fit for military duty.

This morning, we heard heavy firing on a nearby hill. In the evening, we heard bombs falling in another area.

Sunday, October 31, 1943

We prayed in the church all morning, then listened to announcements outside the church at noon. We saw and heard four German "Stuka" fighters flying overhead. We heard later that they attacked a nearby town and set their church on fire.

In the evening, we all went to another meeting. I stayed in the back, ready to leave as soon as I could. There was a large crowd there, mostly because we were told we had to attend. There were also about 30 American pilots who had been "rescued" by the partisans after their planes were shot down by the Germans. Some of the speakers denounced Anglo-Americans, in the presence of the American pilots.

At the meeting, one woman said that women will no longer have to work after the partisans win the war. Men will have to do all the work (except for childbearing). The meeting turned into a circus. On the way home, I talked with two friends. One of them said, "My wife already thinks I'm not good for anything other than chopping wood.. Now she's going to chop wood on me." The other friend said, "I hear they will be dividing all the land so everyone gets an equal share. If they do that, I'll sell my part to you, and then they'll have to divide everything again."

Tuesday, November 2, 1943

This morning I received another request to report for duty with the partisans. I talked to a friend, but this time he wasn't able to get a change. Everyone must be mobilized.

This afternoon I joined a work brigade of about 30 local people and the 30 American pilots, all with hoes and shovels. Ten partisans with rifles came along to guard us (and make sure we did our work.). We were led by Bogdan Rajkovic, who is the only sensible partisan that I know of. We were put to work destroying a road near our village to prevent the Germans from coming back.

The American pilots were put to work some distance away from the rest of us. Around 3 p.m., they came running back towards us, saying that the Germans were firing mortars at them. After 15 minutes, they were ordered to get back to work.

At one point, Rajkovic told me to take a break. It wasn't long before one of the guards yelled at me: "Why aren't you working?" Rajkovic told him I had worked long enough and deserved a rest.

By 6 p.m., we had destroyed enough of the road to make sure the Germans never came back to Ziri (or so we thought).

Wednesday, November 3, 1943

The politkomisar was waiting for me at the dairy at 8 a.m. today. He checked everything and ordered that, from now on, the dairy must produce more butter. But the farmers are bringing in less milk!

We hear that 1,100 partisans fled to the nearby partisan outpost at Ledine. The Germans have chased the partisans out of Novo Mesto, Kocevje and other places.

Thursday, November 4, 1943

I was at the dairy this morning, but nobody brought in any milk.

The committee on economic affairs asked me and one other person to go to each home in our village to write down who has what kind and what number of farm animals, how much food, etc. They sent a partisan guard with us. Today we started in the Nova Vas part of our village. At Gantar's they treated us to bread, apples and brandy. Later we visited my fiancee's family, who invited me (but not the others) for supper.

Friday, November 5, 1943

I waited an hour for a partisan to accompany me again. Finally, at 2 p.m., we went out and visited about 30 families. Nobody gave us anything today.

Saturday, November 6, 1943

I visited more homes to document everyone's food supplies. Most homes have only enough food for a few days, a week at the most. Everyone knows that we can't expect any help from anywhere. Somehow we have to survive!

More and more partisans are arriving from other areas and expecting to be fed. How can we feed them when we don't have enough food for our own people?

Sunday, November 7, 1943

Rev. Janko Zagar said Holy Mass at 11 a.m. He had a beautiful sermon with the theme "The truth shall set you free."

After Mass, Rev. Zagar started hearing confessions, but a partisan soon walked up to the confessional, pounded on the door, and said: "Comrade, time for you to come to a meeting! You can listen to old women's drivel later."

I visited more homes today. One family treated us to an excellent dinner of chicken, bread and brandy. About 20 local partisans have moved in with them.

It snowed all afternoon - almost 5 inches. I went to visit Cilka at her house, but she had gone to ours. We met in the snow as we were both going back to our homes.

In the evening, another meeting, this time to celebrate the October revolution. There's not enough food for everyone, so they're providing entertainment instead.

Tuesday, November 9, 1943

We hear that 1,500 Cossacks (who are allied with the Germans) are nearby and waiting orders to occupy Ziri.

Wednesday, November 10, 1943

Food is becoming more and more scarce in our village. In addition to feeding our own 3,000 villagers, we now have 1,000 - 2,000 partisans to feed.. Politkomisar Milan has ordered Lipe Potocnik to find more food, or he will deal with him "according to the rules."

Lipe told me about the meeting the partisan leadership had regarding food. They posted a guard in front of the town hall, to make sure that noone else could enter. But just as they were having a heated debate about the partisans wasting food, a peasant woman appeared and told them how the partisans had taken and slaughtered her only ox. She said the partisans ate the best parts and threw the head, the intestines and other parts down the ravine. She begged them to let her have those parts because she has no other food for her children, but they wouldn't listen to her. The ox was her only draft animal. Now she will have no way to till her fields and feed her children. Lipe told me that it was as if God himself had sent this woman to bring the partisans to their senses.

After the meeting of the partisan leadership, Lipe invited a number of people to a meeting to discuss ways of feeding our villagers. I attended as the representative of the dairy cooperative. Franc Demšar-Lipnik represented the farmers. At a similar meeting a month ago, Lipnik had said: "Gentlemen! Have some patience; when Joe (Stalin) comes, there will be enough of everything!" This time, he had changed his mind: "Gentlemen! I'm getting worried. A whole battalion of partisans has moved onto my farm. They've slaughtered my pregnant heifer, they've slaughtered my pig, and they're eating the potatoes from my basement. I told the battalion commander that we have lots of turnips, and I suggested that we mix the turnips with the potatoes so the food will last longer. But the battalion commander replied: 'Comrade, you eat the turnips, an army needs better food.' "

(Lipnik was initially a partisan supporter, but after a time, he became convinced they were going in the wrong direction and he decided to fight the partisans and join the Domobranci (the home guard.) After the war, he emigrated to Austria, but the English returned him, his son and the other Domobranci back to Jugoslavia, where they were tortured and killed by the partisans.)

After the village meeting, politkomisar Milan gave Lipe Potocnik even stricter orders to make sure everyone got fed. Lipe decided we needed to make sure we knew about all food supplies so we could divide them fairly. Orders were issued that anyone who wanted to slaughter a pig had to ask for permission.

Mrs. Brezar asked for permission to slaughter her pig. Lipe approved the slaughter, on the condition that she bring half of the meat and half of the fat to the dairy for distribution to other villagers. (I think they were so strict with her because they knew that her only son Vinko was with the Domobranci. There were other people slaughtering their pigs, but they didn't report that, and nobody took action against them.) Mrs. Brezar did what she was ordered to do.

This morning, we heard explosions and thunder from a nearby hill. Partisans tried to take farm animals and food supplies from Petrac's, but the Domobranci shot at them and chased them away.

People are saying that the Germans and the "whites" marched into the nearby city of Škofja Loka with a Slovenian flag. The Germans will leave and General Rupnik (the leader of the Domobranci) will control the entire area.

Friday, November 12, 1943

My brother John is in the German army in Belorussia. (He had agreed to be drafted into the German army so my parents could get food and not lose their home.) We've been worried about him because we haven't heard from him for 4 weeks. Today we received a card from him. He says they are living in boxcars on railroad tracks. They can't move because the tracks ahead and behind them have been destroyed. They cook whatever they can get from the local peasants, like the partisans do here.

Saturday, November 13, 1943

Children in our village are writing on houses in large red letters: "Long live comrade Tito! Long live the Red Army! Long live Stalin! Death to the Gestapo! Death to the blue and white traitors!" My father wouldn't let them write on our house.

Sunday, November 14, 1943

Cilka and I went visiting friends this afternoon and evening. At one of the homes, we happened to see politkomisar Milan Zakelj and his fiancee. Milan seemed especially quiet and lost in thought. Even though he was armed with a small machine gun and grenades, he seemed afraid. Later we heard sounds of artillery and machine guns from a nearby village.

Monday, November 15, 1943

It snowed all day. I worked in the dairy all morning, but there was nothing to do except tell women that we had no food to distribute. I reviewed our inventory of what each villager has at home. Many of them had told us they had no food, but I know at least one who had just slaughtered a pig; he also has a cow and some wheat, but he reported that he only has a one day supply of food. Strange! At the other extreme is Marjana Godec, who reported that she has enough for 14 days (later I learned that she had heard that anyone could live for 14 days without food, so that's why she said she had enough for 14 days!) We divided all the villagers into 3 categories: those who have no food, those who have enough for 14 days, and those who have enough for a year.

This afternoon, we heard the sounds of German artillery fire landing on a nearby hill. All the partisans began leaving our village. People washed the writings off their houses.

My brother Joze was at a farm in the surrounding hills taking inventory of food supplies when the Germans arrived. They assumed he must be a partisan and arrested him. Somehow, the farmhouse they were in caught fire and, in the ensuing confusion, he escaped. He noticed that there were farm animals in the barn next to the house and they wouldn't leave. There was dry straw which was in danger of being ignited by the burning house. He noticed some large boards that happened to be nearby and he placed the boards over the straw to keep the straw from catching fire.

At every farmhouse, the Germans threatened to shoot anyone who was hiding partisans. At Oblak's they were about to shoot the young housewife when her husband (a Domobranec) arrived and rescued her.

When my brother Joze arrived back home today, his face was completely white from his experiences. We heard that many other farm houses burned down. We also heard that there was a skirmish nearby between the Germans and the partisans, and that 20 partisans fell, and 8 Germans.

Tuesday, November 16, 1943

All night we heard shells exploding on the nearby hills. Most people couldn't sleep, but I slept about half the night. When I went to the dairy this morning, the streets were deserted. At 9:30 a.m., one German soldier rode into the village on a bicycle. Thirty minutes later, there was another one, then a group of 3, then 5, then 10, and finally a group of 40 with a Hitler-Slovenian flag. Among them was Tone Lomar, a Domobranec in a Jugoslavian uniform which was too large for him. Tone talked to me: "Everything's finished in Dolenjsko! We've surrounded seven partisan divisions!" I felt a sharp pain in my heart: Will we really need to join one enemy (the Germans) to fight the partisans?

Then I met a strange soldier who spoke a few words each of Croatian, Bulgarian, Italian, Polish, and God knows what else. Was he a Cossack? At 11:15, a group of 10 Cossacks (German allies) arrived on horseback. They each held their horse's reins in their left hand and a machine gun in their right, and they looked very handsome.

This afternoon, 80 "whites" arrived, then about 50 more Cossacks on horses, and many more Germans, all on foot or horseback. There are no motorized vehicles because the road and the nearby bridge were destroyed.

The snow has been falling all day - already more than 8 inches. This is very fortunate for the retreating partisans, because the falling snow is quickly erasing their tracks and making it harder for the Germans to follow them.

Wednesday, November 17, 1943

When I arrived for work at the dairy this morning, there were women waiting because they heard we would be selling the bacon from the pig that Mrs. Brezar had slaughtered. The women were all from the Stara Vas part of our village, since it was announced that, this time, we would be selling only to families from that area. We don't have enough for everyone, so the other parts of our village will have to wait till next time. I sold 21 kilos and saved some for a family that did not show up.

As I was selling bacon to the women, Štefan Šorli showed up and demanded that I give all the meat to the partisans. I told him that the village had promised that this meat would be divided among the families. If the partisans had really wanted the meat, they could have just come at night and taken it. Štefan continued to threaten me, but I stood firm and he gave up.

The Germans ordered all men from the Nova Vas and Zirovski Vrh parts of our area to help them carry munitions from a nearby town. Most of the men returned tonight and immediately went into hiding. There are only a couple of men, including myself, who walk openly on the streets during the day.

Tone Gantar was one of the men who was mobilized by the Germans, and he hasn't returned yet. He is old and sick, and his family is worried about him.

Thursday, November 18, 1943

Last night was peaceful. This morning I went to the dairy, but there wasn't any food to distribute today. Marjana Godec came and asked if there was anything left from yesterday. I told her I was saving some for one family. If they don't show up today, I will send word to her to come pick it up. I know that she really has no food.

German soldiers came to the shoemakers' cooperative workshop today and took a large amount of raw materials and a typewriter that belonged to the dairy.

This afternoon about 1,000 - 2,000 Germans, Cossacks and Domobranci marched from our village to the nearby town of Rovte. They mobilized about 100 civilians (about half of them were from our village) and many horses to help them carry their baggage and all the goods they had stolen.

These are dark days for our village, and they promise to become darker still. The Germans have announced that they will burn down any building that provides shelter to the partisans, and they will kill anyone who helps the partisans. We have no idea what will happen to Ziri. We don't even know who will be in charge. Will it be the Germans, or will it be General Rupnik (the leader of the Domobranci)? Some people have only the most negative criticism for him. We were under partisan control for only 22 days. Maybe we will wish that had been longer!

In the evening, I sent word to Marjana Godec that she could come pick up the remaining bacon, since the family I was holding it for had not come for their share. She came immediately and was very happy and grateful. Soon after that, Bahac came and asked if we had anything left. Somehow we had missed him when we were visiting everyone and taking inventory. He doesn't have any food and would really like some meat, but we don't have any left. I offered him some barley which the dairy had obtained for use as seeds for planting. (Normally, seeds are not fit for human consumption because the supplier mixes pesticide with the seed to prevent insect damage, but I had specifically asked them to not do that with this batch because I knew that we might need to use it as food.)

Bahac was happy to get a few kilos of barley. I had offered this barley to the partisans earlier, but they said it wasn't good enough for them. I thought about how hard it must have been for Bahac to come ask for food. He used to be a wealthy man and one of the fiercest opponents of the dairy cooperative.

Friday, November 19, 1943

This morning, the last Germans left for the nearby town of Rovte. Now we are free again - without anyone in authority and without any food.

At the dairy I was gong to make some butter, but there was no electricity. The artillery shells and the snow have torn down the wires.

I went to the shoemakers' cooperative and found everything turned upside down and many things missing and stolen. The Germans had left the keys in the doors, and announced that nobody was allowed to enter. But the villagers came in and took the little bit of leather that the Germans had left.

Potocnik returned from Rovte this evening. He said the Germans have 30 - 40 artillery guns there, waiting for orders to destroy Ziri. The Germans announced that they will not hesitate to destroy Ziri if they ever find partisans here again.

Some partisans have begun returning to their homes, but their leaders are staying in hiding.

I decided I would talk with some of the leading men in our village, to see what we could do to prevent the destruction of our village. First I went to see my friend Max Zajc. He and his wife met me outside their front door. As we were talking, I heard the quiet sound of his neighbor's door opening just a little. I could see the neighbor trying to overhear us, but I hope he didn't hear anything. I tried to convince Max that we should send a delegation to General Rupnik in Ljubljana and ask him to establish an outpost in Ziri for the Domobranci, to protect us from both the partisans and the Germans. Although Max could see that this might be our only chance to save our village, he wasn't sure what to do. I could see that I wasn't going to get anywhere with him.

I went on to Max's brother Anze Zajc. He understands that we are in imminent danger, but he said: "We Catholics should not begin any military action against the partisans. Let them kill a few of us first and then everyone will rise up against them. I know that I will be the first to fall, but we must not be the ones to begin this."

I continued on to Ivan Potocnik's. Both he and Anze could have been elected mayor in our last elections in 1937, but neither one wanted to take on such a thankless task. I found Potocnik and his wife at his hay-rack. They were on a wagon loaded with hay, as if they were getting ready to unload the wagon, but they weren't working. When I explained the purpose of my visit, they looked at each other strangely. Ivan's reply seemed even stranger: "I've been thinking that we may be wrong; maybe this new idea (communism) will prevail. We should join them and work with them." Why this sudden change? I became more cautious and I said: "I know that Germany will lose this war, but we're too small to have any effect on the outcome. The Allies have already decided what will happen with our country after the war. They won't ask about our opinions or our wishes. But right now, the fate of our village is at stake. If we can get the Domobranci to set up an outpost here, the partisans won't dare to return to Ziri, and our village will be saved!" (Years later, I learned that, while I was talking with the Potocniks, a veterinarian friend of theirs who was a partisan was hiding in the hay rack behind them.)

I realized that I wasn't getting anywhere. If three of the most influential men in our village are against me, then I need to wait - either the partisans will kill some of us, or we will give up what we believe in and join the communists. The first possibility is not up to me, and may very well happen. The second possibility - I will never agree to that! So we have to just wait for the partisans to return, allow them to steal what we have left, and then wait for the German artillery to destroy the village.

Rumor has it that Mirko Zajc (Anze and Max's brother) told someone that I was trying to stir people up to send a delegation to the Domobranci, and that I was doing that just so I could be in charge. If I had known people would start rumors like that, I would probably not have tried what I did. Mirko has often accused me and my brother Joze of competing with Mirko for the best positions. The truth is that I have never sought either honorary or paid positions. When I was elected to various boards, I only agreed to serve when they convinced me they couldn't find anyone else to do the work. I never felt that I was qualified for any elected position. But when people have chosen me, I've done my best, and people have usually been satisfied with what I've done.

Saturday, November 20, 1943

Many of the men that the Germans had mobilized to help them move to Rovte have not returned. We hear they may be on a nearby hill, where the Germans are trying to destroy the partisans with artillery, hunger and cold. There is a meter of old snow on the ground.

This afternoon I went to the dairy, where we had enough milk to make some butter, but the worker who usually makes butter wasn't there. I started the electric churn myself, and after 5 hours succeeded in making 25 kilos of butter.

Sunday, November 21, 1943

I slept about 4 hours. From 1 - 5 a.m., I was up trying to figure out how to divide 25 kilos of butter among 2,000 people. I figured it would come out to about 2 dekagrams (almost one ounce) per family.

At 7 a.m., there were about 100 people in the church, and then more at Mass at 11 a.m. At 4 p.m., Cilka and I went back to church again, and then to her home for dinner. At 7 p.m., a partisan knocked on the door, asking directions to a certain house. The partisans are becoming more active everywhere. They're looking for men that they can draft into their army. I hear they will be coming for me before too long.

When I returned home, my family told me that Anze and Max Zajc had been looking for me, but nobody knew where I was. I usually let them know where I was going, but this time I forgot. (Later I learned they were looking for me because they had decided I was right, and they were assembling a delegation to go to General Rupnik in Ljubljana. When I talked with Max later, he accused me of hiding so I wouldn't have to go. I asked him why it was so important that I go, to which he replied: "You're less important, and we can afford to lose you." I never heard exactly who went and what they accomplished.)

Tonight I went to bed armed - with a rosary and a pistol. I am determined to not let the partisans take me alive.

Being armed with a rosary and a pistol reminds me of a story that my father told us about old man Mlinar. He used to stay out late at night, and a couple boys decided to teach him a lesson. The boys waited at night along the path that Mlinar usually took to get home. One of them climbed up on the other's shoulders and they covered themselves with a big sheet. But when Mlinar saw the "ghost," he was not afraid. He calmly pulled a rosary from one pocket and a knife from the other pocket, and he threatened the ghost: "If you're the devil, I'll get you with the rosary, and if you're something else, I'll get you with my knife!" In a moment, the ghost collapsed and the two boys ran away.

Monday, November 22, 1943

I slept very little last night, and my father didn't sleep at all. We heard some men marching by, but otherwise it was quiet.

At the dairy this morning, I rationed out the butter: 2 dekagrams (almost one ounce) per family. I had expected many people to show up

but there were only a few.

Tone Gantar finally returned home last night after being gone for a week. The Germans took him with them and made him carry munitions.

About 400 German soldiers marched through our village today, on their way to Idrija. Finally, we have some protection from the partisans! The Germans brought the first newspapers that we've seen in a month. The partisans issue their own newspaper, but it's so biased, it's not trustworthy.

The Germans promised that, if the partisans stay out of Ziri, we will get ration cards which we can trade in for food at Škofja Loka (about 17 miles away).

Tuesday, November 23, 1943

People found a number of dead partisans not far from our village. Among them was Albin Cadez, who was one of the local leaders. He was the first partisan who tried to determine how much I would support the OF (the "Liberation Front.") He was very ambitious, but the other partisans wouldn't let him advance. About 14 days ago, I was at a meeting where Cadez and other villagers were discussing who would be in charge of which area in the new government. Cadez and two others all wanted to be in charge of supplying the partisans, but they decided Cadez should be in charge of commerce and traffic, since he's a metalworker and knows how to fix wagon wheels. The man who was put in charge of supplying the partisans is a crook. (I learned later that he requisitioned food, raw materials and other supplies from local people and kept much of it for himself. After the war, people found many valuables in his house.)

Wednesday, November 24, 1943

I worked in the dairy's office this afternoon and reconciled the accounting for October. Machine guns were firing again in a nearby village. Warplanes flew overhead, but I don't think they found their targets in the fog.

Friday, November 26, 1943

A beautiful, clear day. Warplanes are flying overhead quite often.

Rumor has it that 2,000 partisans fell in the Tolmin area last week, including two men from our village.

The partisans have ordered their supporters to stay out of Ziri during the daytime. They don't want the Germans to destroy our village.

Saturday, November 27, 1943

About 15 "whites" (Domobranci) arrived in Ziri today with newspapers, posters and leaflets. Some 12-year old boys soon tore up the posters.

Sunday, November 28, 1943

After church this morning, I visited Cilka's brother Rupert. Then Cilka and I went for a walk in the woods. We gathered moss for a nativity scene. It was a beautiful day, but Cilka was in a bad mood. She's given up hope that we will ever get married. It doesn't make sense to me to have a family in these circumstances. But we have no plans to be apart. In spite of everything, we still love each other.

(Cilka and I had made plans earlier that we would get married but the war changed everything. We even ordered new furniture for a kitchen and a bedroom, all of which were made by villagers. The kitchen furniture was completed without incident, but the man who was supposed to make our bedroom furniture kept on delaying. He wanted separate payments, first to buy the wood and then for each step in the process. When it was finally all finished, we stored the kitchen furniture with Cilka's family, and the bedroom furniture with my family. We never did use the kitchen furniture, but we finally used the bed 30 years later, when we came back to Ziri on our first visit from America.)

(During 1943 - 1946, our situation continued to get worse. When Cilka and I finally got married in the refugee camp in 1946, we had nothing at all.)

Cilka's sister Manica is strongly opposed to the "whites." Her husband, Mire, is with the partisans. Manica doesn't know whether he's dead or alive.

This evening, my Cilka went to visit Cilka Erznoznik, who was wounded. She will help her make it through the night.

Monday, November 29, 1943

Janez Homc and Mire Kolenc (Manica's husband) returned from the partisans today. They are supposed to go back tomorrow, but they've decided they will either delay their return or go elsewhere. The partisan forces are in complete disarray. Many other partisans have fled or do not plan to go back. But everyone knows that the partisans will be drafting new "recruits."

Ten men from our village have now fallen at the hands of the partisans. Some of them died in battles, and some were judged to be traitors and executed by the partisans. Socialist butchers!

This afternoon, Janez Homc invited me to his home. Lovro Tratnik and some other men were there also. Lovro said: "Listen to me, the partisans are finished - they'll never come back to Ziri." I replied: "You don't know the partisans. We might not see them during the day, but they'll be here at night, maybe even tonight." But Lovro insisted: "I bet you a bottle of wine that we'll never see them again. We'll drink it when the war's over."

This evening, just after darkness fell, I was reading in my father's shoemaking workshop when I heard sounds coming from our front door. My sister Mici came running to me, saying: "Tone, the partisans have come to take you away! You better get ready, I'll help you." But at that moment, three partisans stepped into the workshop: a young woman in a new partisan uniform made of Italian cloth, a man I knew from nearby, and one other man. She had a revolver and the men had rifles. The woman (I later learned that her name was Ana Marija, a former schoolteacher from a nearby village) gave me her orders: "Tone, get ready, you're coming with us!"

I didn't have any weapons on me, so I decided to delay as much as I could until I could find a way to fight them. I told her that I manage two cooperatives, and that I need at least a day to transfer the books and the keys to board members. "There's no time for anything like that now - this is war!" she said. My father interrupted her: "I was a soldier for 7 years and I know what war is. This isn't war and you're not soldiers - you're scoundrels." I was surprised that nobody reacted to my father's words; they just ignored him.

I tried more excuses, that I didn't have any clothes ready and no medicine. This just made Ana Marija more insistent. She pointed her revolver at my chest and cursed at me: "Damn you! You're taking 5 minutes for every button. Are you coming or not?" "All right, let's go get my clothes in my room," I said. I had a Browning 6.35 pistol hidden there. But when we got there, the two partisans with rifles stood so close to me that I couldn't reach my pistol. Even if I could have reached my pistol, I couldn't have moved fast enough to get both of them.

I said farewell to my mother, who gave me a backpack that she had made for me soon after the Germans arrived in April of 1941. At that time, people were saying that the Germans would sterilize all the women and take the men to Germany to work in underground munitions factories, and my mother had said: "I'm not worried about us women, but you men should never allow the Germans to force you to go with them. I will make three backpacks: one for each of the men in our house. Into each pack I will place one change of underwear, socks and clothes; I will add dried bread and fruit, sugar and other food, so everything will be ready if you need to flee. You will have enough for three days; after three days, you should be able to find some honest people who will help you."

I took the backpack from my mother and added my diary. Then we all went back to the workshop so I could say farewell to my father. He said "Go and do what is right!"

As we left our house and stepped onto the dark street, Ana Marija said, "Tone, now you are ours! Be careful and don't do anything stupid. Remember that you still have parents and sisters at home. You don't want anything to happen to them." "I'll be sensible if you will," I said.

There were more partisans waiting for us in the street. We all went to Janez Homc's home, who was just having dinner when we arrived. He had said he would refuse to go with the partisans, but he changed his mind and said, "Greetings, comrades! Let me finish my dinner and I will come with you." And just as I had done, he came peacefully. Next the partisans wanted to get Ludvik Jesenko, but they didn't know where he lived. I knew that he had just moved, but I gave them his old address. We went there and they told us that he had just moved. In the meantime, someone from Homc's family had found him and warned him so he could escape. When we got to his new home, he wasn't there. So we saved one man!

Then the partisans took us to Celešnik's on the outskirts of Ziri. On the way, we passed my family home and I could hear my father praying the rosary loudly, just as he did when the Germans led me away as a hostage 5 weeks ago.

I thought to myself, my father prayed for me last time and I survived then. I will survive this time, too.

There were a number of partisans at Celešnik's. I had been afraid of this house and its master for some time. Years ago, I almost proved that Mr. Celešnik was stealing from the cooperative. Now he'll be able to get even with me, I thought.

Strojko Poljanšek was the commander for the group of partisans at Celešnik's. Soon after we arrived, he sent his "commandos" to a nearby store with orders. They returned and said that my friend Anze Zajc (the store owner) had anticommunist literature, which they brought back to Strojko. It was the Catholic Missions Calendar for 1944, which Anze had just received. Strojko looked it over and said: "Why are you bringing this to me? There's nothing here!" They told him that the calendar included an article about communism. He read it and said: "Throw it in the fire!" Then he ordered his "commandos" to go back to the store and get him a specific fountain pen. (That must mean he had been at that store himself earlier in the evening, since he seemed to know exactly what they had.) But they returned without the pen. So he sent them again. This time the store was locked. Anze was on the upper floor and he tied some bags of sugar, flour and other things up with a rope and lowered it all down to the commandos. They brought that back to Strojko, who then ordered them to bring Anze to him, saying: "We have to get him tonight! Dead or alive! No, don't do anything stupid! Bring him here alive!"

His commandos came back after a half hour, but they were all very quiet. Strojko took them to a back room, where I couldn't hear them. A few minutes went by, and Strojko came out, walking back and forth, saying: "How could something stupid like this have happened! Damn!"

(Later I found out what happened: When the partisans returned to Anze's store the fourth time, everything was locked and he wasn't there. So they went to Anze's backyard, where Anze had a bomb shelter (the only one in Ziri). The bomb shelter was underground, with heavy oak doors. Anze and his brothers Max and Mirko were in it. When the partisans asked Anze to come out, he put his ear next to the iron lock on the door. When he didn't open the door, one of the partisans fired at the lock with his rifle. This caused the oak wood and part of the lock to fly apart, and one of the pieces cut through Anze's throat, killing him instantly. In the ensuing confusion, Mirko escaped, but Max was so dazed, he offered no resistance and was captured.)

It was now almost 10 p.m. More partisans arrived at Celešnik's. They brought a new "recruit" - Joze Prapošk Zakelj (an acquaintance of mine).

Strojko started asking me many of the same questions that the politkomisar had asked me at the dairy earlier. What happened with the wheat that we collected from the farmers? Did we pay the farmers? I told him the truth, just as I had told politkomisar Milan Zakelj earlier. Strojko had heard that I had read about socialism and freemasonry (actually, I didn't). He accused me of wanting to learn about those philosophies just so I could be more effective in opposing them. I realized from Strojko's questions that the partisans must be keeping records about anyone who might oppose them.

(Soon after the partisans first took control of Ziri, Milan Zakelj marched into our family's workshop, where he found me reading Hitler's Mein Kampf. He asked me why I was reading that, and I replied: "If you want to succeed in fighting an enemy, you must first understand him." He told all his comrades about this, and they often criticized me for reading Hitler's book.)

(I knew and respected Strojko's father. He founded more cooperatives in Ziri than anyone else, and as far as I could tell, he didn't profit from that. But many of his workers were dishonest, and those cooperatives soon failed.)

(Every year, Strojko's father came to the shoemaker's cooperative store, where I worked. He always asked about my priest brother, Stanko, who wanted to go to China as a missionary. "Has he gone to China yet?" He often said: "I respect people who sacrifice their lives for others." Once he asked me what I thought about socialism and freemasonry. I told him and he replied: "You've got the wrong ideas about all this! Let me bring you some books, so you can learn." He brought me one book about socialism and one about freemasonry. I didn't open either one and returned them to him after a few months.)

Around 11 p.m., the partisans led a group of us away from Celešnik's. As we were leaving, I noticed that they now had my friend Max Zajc (Anze's brother). I greeted him, but he kept his head bowed and didn't respond. (At that time, I didn't know that Anze had been killed.) They led us out across the fields in complete darkness. Right behind me with an Italian carbine in his hands was Franko Kamšk, a veterinary student who had joined the partisans. If I had known the area better, I might have tried to escape, but Franko would probably have shot me.

I thought to myself: "I shouldn't try to escape on my own. It's clear that Max needs help - I should try and save him! One of the partisans is Max's brother-in-law. Maybe he'll help us." (I didn't know that they had become enemies because of their opposing beliefs.)

Around midnight, we arrived at Sivkar's, a farmhouse in the countryside. There we found a wounded partisan lying in the straw in the barn. Our partisans moved him and ordered him to make room for the rest of us. They ordered me, Max and Joze to lie down by the stove because "we don't have any lice yet," while the rest of them lay down in the straw. I noticed that one of the partisans seemed to be in love with Ana Marija; he tried to stay close to her, but she kept pushing him away. Then Ana Marija and some of the partisans left, leaving us with a few guards.

Before we went to sleep, Max asked the partisans to let him go home so he could let his wife know where he is, and to get a change of clothes and some cigarettes. They wouldn't allow that. So I suggested that they could instead send someone that they trusted. To my surprise, they agreed to send my friend Janez Homc. I could have shouted for joy because I knew this would be his opportunity to escape. But I knew I couldn't let them know how pleased I was, so I stayed completely silent.

About that time, Anton Giacomelli, a baker from Ziri, arrived on his own. He said Rajkovic had ordered him to report for duty at Sivkar's. Rajkovic probably knew this would be an opportunity for Giacomelli to escape, but Giacomelli did as he was told. (As far as I know, he was later captured by the Germans as a partisan, and he died in Mauthausen in December, 1944.)

Tuesday, November 30, 1943

Although I'm usually quite nervous, last night I slept well at Sivkar's. This morning, Sivkar's daughter Paula went to Ziri and came back with the news that Anze Zajc was killed last night. Although the Sivkars are 100% "Catholic" (anticommunist), they didn't seem at all outraged by this news. I think Paula often acted as a courier for both the partisans and the whites. The partisans probably made us stay overnight at Sivkar's just so the Germans would hear that partisans had been there. Since the Germans would then burn the house down, this would be an easy way for the partisans to get rid of a faithful Catholic family.

This morning, Merlak took over leadership of our partisan group. He was one of the "commandos" that had gone to Anze's last night. He ordered one of his subordinates to go to a neighbor's house and get bread, porridge and tea for us for breakfast. He soon returned and Merlak ordered Mrs. Sivkar to cook it all for us. I interrupted (partly to see how much they would trust me) and suggested that we could have the bread and tea for breakfast, and save the porridge for lunch. Again to my surprise, they agreed with my suggestion. I had a good breakfast, but Max and Joze (the other recruit) didn't want any. Max just kept his head down in his hands, still in shock and mourning from last night. Joze continued to sleep by the stove.

I knew Merlak from before. He had a long court fight with his neighbor about a path that ran between their land. Merlak had plowed the path and taken it over for farming. The neighbor went to court and after many years, Merlak lost.

Soon after the Germans came, Merlak asked me if I could get him some motor oil, which was hard to get. Merlak gave me a bottle of brandy to use as a bribe with the authorities. The brandy was in a nice bottle which Merlak wanted to get back. I used the brandy to get Merlak his oil, but I wasn't able to get his bottle back. Merlak was not happy about that, but he promised he would reward me for the oil with some pears in the fall. When I came for the pears, he offered me some which he said actually belonged to his father. I thanked him and left, refusing to accept stolen pears.

When we were sitting around at Celešnik's, Merlak talked about how people would no longer be forced to go to church after the partisans win. He was upset because our pastor had once threatened to ask the police to make people who were standing outside the church to come in. In Ziri, the farmers had a custom of staying outside the church during the service. They would bring bottles of brandy with them, share drinks with each other and talk loudly.

After breakfast at Sivkar's, most of the partisans left, but some new ones arrived. I stepped outside (again partly to check how much they would trust me) and a partisan followed me out. I know him - he's married to my cousin - but I didn't feel that I could trust him, so I had to be careful what I said. He said, "It's dangerous here, isn't it?" I replied: "I can hear some shooting far away, but I think it's fine here; we have plenty to eat and we don't have to work. It's like a vacation for me." I don't know what he was thinking. He went back in the house, leaving me outside.

Then Mr. Sivkar came out. I told him that I was planning to escape, but he acted like he didn't hear me. He talked about the weather and his crops. I told him that, after I escape, he should tell the partisans that I will avenge any harm they cause my family. He didn't seem to hear that either. (Later I realized how dumb I was. If he had said that to the partisans, they would have figured that he helped me escape and they would have shot him. There may also have been a partisan nearby who was listening to everything we were saying.)

The shooting in the distance seemed to get closer, but we continued to have no concern. Mrs. Sivkar cooked us potato soup and porridge for lunch. I ate well, but again Max and Joze did not want to eat. There was plenty of food left.

After lunch, everyone began dozing off. I thought about how I could get Max's attention without anyone else noticing. Max wasn't sleeping, but he was still in a daze from last night and not responding to anyone. I coughed and Max unexpectedly looked at me. I turned my face and covered it with my left hand so Strojko couldn't see what I was doing. With my right hand, I asked Max to look at the clock. I used my fingers to tell him that I planned to escape at 1:30. Suddenly Max got up and started pacing. I walked over to him and he said loudly, so everyone could hear: "Are you saying that we should escape?" Now he's given everything away, I thought. I gave Max such a piercing look that he understood what a stupid thing he had done. I looked around the room, but nobody gave any indication that they had heard anything. We went back to our places. The partisans were half asleep.

I thought about using force. There was a machine gun leaning against the stove, but I didn't know how to use that. Next to that was a long Italian rifle and near that an Italian carbine. Were they loaded? Or had the partisans put them there unloaded just to see if we would try to use them to escape? Too chancy! There was a large knife on the table that we had used to slice the bread. It would be so easy to cut Strojko's throat, but then what? How could I do that without attracting the guards' attention? If I did try using the rifles, and if they were loaded, I might shoot Max or Joze by mistake. For a moment I wished that I were a ruffian and used to fighting.

(Years later, I still clearly remember that knife on the table. If I see any knife out on a table, I have to put it away. If I had used that knife that day against someone I knew - even someone with beliefs contrary to mine - my conscience would not have given me peace for the rest of my life. It may not always be honorable to run from danger, but sometimes running away makes more sense than using force. I would rather work hard 16 hours a day than steal and kill. Being a ruffian is not in my nature.)

At 1:30, I got up and walked out of the house. I didn't want the guards to think I was escaping, so I had to leave behind the backpack that my mother had given me. The only thing I took with me was my diary.

When I got outside, I looked for guards. I noticed a guard with a rifle walking back and forth on the hill above the house. It was 16 year-old Metod Krošelj. When he walked out of sight, I ran to a ravine near the house. There I waited for Max for what seemed like an eternity. I thought he had understood my plan. I considered going back for him, but that would have been too dangerous. When there was still no sign of him, I decided that the partisans must have noticed that I was missing and made sure he couldn't leave.

Angry that Max didn't join me, I made my way up the ravine and beyond towards Gorenja Vas in German-occupied territory, where I would be safe from the partisans. (Years later I learned that Max stayed with the partisans for many months before he was rescued by the Domobranci. After the war he went to Argentina.)

After hours of walking and running, I arrived exhausted and hot near the village of Gorenja Vas and immediately saw a customs officer who knew me from before. He gave me a friendly greeting and invited me into his home. There he brought me a full plate of vegetable stew, but I was still so upset, I couldn't eat. I told him about my escape from the partisans. He said we should go to the police station in Gorenja Vas, which we did.

At the police station, I repeated my story to the commander, who is a Slovenian. He asked what I will do now, and whether I have a job in German-occupied territory. I lied and told him that I had arranged for a job at the dairy in Škofja Loka just in case something like this happened. "That's good," he said, " find someplace to sleep here tonight and then tomorrow morning go to the Gestapo in Škofja Loka and tell them you have work there." At that moment, a German soldier stepped in whom I recognized because he had been in Ziri for two years. We called him "Pecelincek." He said: "Oh, this is one of those bandits! We better call the Gestapo and have him taken away in an armored car and then on to a concentration camp in Germany!" (The Germans refer to all partisans as "bandits.") But the Slovenian police commander said: "Why? This man has a job in Škofja Loka. Let him go to his job!" Pecelincek continued arguing for a while, but the commander wouldn't give in.

While we were talking in the commander's office, I looked out the window and happened to see my brother Joze speeding by on his bicycle. I wanted to run out and catch him, but it occured to me that Pecelincek might think I was trying to escape and might even shoot me. When I had explained to the commander that I saw my brother outside, he allowed me to go out and look for him, but by then he was gone.

I finally got everything straightened out at the police station. The commander wished me good luck and I left to find a place to sleep for the night. I went to the Peternel family, because I had known Mr. Peternel when he was a mail carrier in Ziri before the war. They are a very Catholic, anti-communist family, and they immediately invited me to stay with them. In the evening, we all prayed the rosary and sang to the Blessed Virgin Mary, "Mary, help us." During the prayers, an older aunt had to often scold her young nephew to be still. They arranged some bedding for me on a bench next to the stove, and I was soon fast asleep.

Wednesday, December 1, 1943

The Peternel family woke me early because they knew that I wanted to leave in time to catch a ride to Škofja Loka with Krošel, who drives there every day. The ride went well, and when I arrived in Loka, I first went to the dairy, the cooperative unon and to stores where I needed to take care of some business related to my jobs in Ziri. I put off going to the Gestapo until I had everything else taken care of. I had no idea what they would do with me and I was worried that they might not let me go.

Finally, I reported to the Gestapo as I had been instructed. One of them thought he recognized me as a bandit (partisan) from Ziri, but he was still polite. I told him that I wanted to find my bike, which the Germans had taken with them when they left Ziri. He took me down to their basement, where he showed me about 8 bikes and said: "Here, pick whichever one is yours!" I couldn't find my bike, but I found my brother's bike. I asked the Gestapo if I could take it to him, but he said: "No, he has to come get it himself, and he has to prove he has a job in German-occupied territory." Then another soldier came by and insisted I was a partisan and should be sent to Germany. But somehow I convinced them I was not a partisan, that the police commander in Gorenja Vas had sent me to them, and that I had work in German-occupied territory. They let me go.

I returned to the Peternel family for one more night. I read in the newspaper that Anton Zakelj was found dead yesterday, killed by the partisans!

(Later I found out that the newspaper had confused me with Joze Prapošk Zakelj, who was at Sivkar's with me and Max. The evening after I escaped, the partisans moved Joze and Max to an encampment, where they ordered Joze to take his shoes off. He knew that this meant they were getting ready to kill him, so he tried to run away. The partisans shot him and wounded him so he fell. Then they ran up to him and killed him with their bayonets.)

(Later I also heard that my brother Stanko, who was in a monastery, heard about my death and said a special Mass for me at Christmas. At that time, he had still not heard that the news was a mistake.)

Thursday, December 2, 1943

Someone (I think the driver who had brought me to Loka) told my sister Mici and my fiancee Cilka about my whereabouts and that the newspaper had made a mistake. They brought me some clean clothes, and were happy and relieved to see me still alive.

Friday, December 10, 1943

I took a train to Celovec in Austria. I went to the Dairy Cooperative, with whom I had previously communicated regarding a possible job at the dairy in Št. Vid . They told me they would let me know. I also went to the Union for Domestic Trades, where I found my brother Joze. This was the first he had seen me since the reports that I had died, and he was very glad to see me.

The city of Celovec has been heavily bombed by the Allies. The main street is so covered with ruins that people have to climb across mountains of debris to get anywhere.

Monday, December 13, 1943

I'm still waiting to hear about a job in Austria. Franc Gantar (Cilka's cousin) is organizing exiled shoemakers from Ziri into a new shoemaking cooperative in Kranj. He wants me to be their assistant manager. I told him I would take the job but I do not want to be part of any support to the partisans.

Tuesday, December 14, 1943

I bought ledgers for our new cooperative. It will be called Kriegsarbeitsgemeinschaft der Sairacher Schuhmacher (The Ziri Shoemakers Wartime Cooperative).

Franc Gantar went to the German work office and obtained approval for me to work in the new cooperative. The Germans have agreed to return to us what they took when they left Ziri, if we begin making shoes under German occupation by Christmas.

Wednesday, December 15, 1943

My future work is still uncertain. I would rather work in the dairy in Austria. I think it's not safe for me to stay in Slovenia.

Monday, December 20, 1943

I bought more ledgers for the new cooperative and food for a Christmas party.

Tuesday, December 21, 1943

The new cooperative has started making shoes. The Germans ordered me to work with them, but I don't think I'll have enough work there.

Friday, December 24, 1943

Franc Gantar organized a Christmas party for the new cooperative workers and guests. He asked me to be friendly with the secretary of the trade association. We were both bored.

Monday, December 27, 1943 to May 2, 1945

For over a year, I lived in German-occupied Kranj, Slovenia, and worked as the assistant manager of our shoemakers' cooperative in exile. During that time, we had as many as 40 workers. I am sure that our manager Franc Gantar helped both the Germans and the partisans, but true to our agreement, he never involved me in any of that.

From December 1943 to December 1944, Cilka continued to live with her family in Ziri. She often travelled to Kranj to visit me. But at 8 p.m. on December 26, 1944, the partisans came to take her away, just as they had come for me a year earlier. There were two of them, men that she had not seen before. They asked for her by name and said they had orders for her to join the partisans. They told her to bring a blanket, a spoon and bowl, and one change of clothing. When she didn't get ready quickly enough, they told her to leave without a change of clothes.

As Cilka was saying farewell to her mother, they both cried. They knew that they might never see each other again. (As it turned out, Cilka saw her a few months later for only about an hour, and then not again for 20 years.)

The partisans took Cilka out into the night, up into the hills. They joined a number of other partisans at a farmhouse, where they stayed for the night. Although Cilka knew some of them, it was not always possible to tell which ones were there by choice and which by force. She didn't know which ones she could trust. They told her she would be cooking for a partisan brigade.

The next day, they took her further across the hills, beyond where she had ever been before. She became worried that she would not be able to find her way back. When the partisans were changing guards and not paying attention to her, she took the opportunity and ran off into the woods.

After some distance, she met a different group of partisans. She pretended to be one herself and gave them an enthusiastic partisan salute. They returned the greeting and didn't stop her. (Later she learned that Rajkovic was in that group, and that he knew she had escaped, but he purposely didn't say anything.)

The first night after her escape, Cilka walked up to an unknown farmhouse and asked if she could stay the night. Fortunately, there was a woman at that farmhouse who was very kind and helpful. Cilka explained to her that she had escaped from the partisans, and the woman confided that her husband was away with the Domobranci. But hardly an hour after Cilka arrived, two partisans came pounding at the door. The woman quickly led Cilka to a back room, which was next to a back door. She told Cilka to listen carefully: if the partisans ask for her, she should quietly step out the back door, and the woman would tell them that Cilka was not in the house. Cilka prayed quietly as she waited and listened in the back room. She was very relieved when the partisans just asked for food and left without asking about her. So Cilka was able to stay at that farmhouse for the night.

In the morning, the woman told Cilka which paths to take to avoid the partisans. It was sunny and there was only a little snow on the ground, so Cilka was able to walk across the hills towards German-occupied territory, where she would be safe from the partisans. Just as I had done a year earlier, she came to the village of Gorenja Vas, about 8 miles from Ziri. But there she encountered a group of Domobranci who at first refused to believe that she had escaped from the partisans. Then, when she finally convinced them, they insisted that she go with them and become their cook. But she refused and they let her go.

In Gorenja Vas, Cilka immediately sent word back to her mother and her sister, to let them know she was safe. She stayed overnight with the Peternel family (the same family that helped me a year earlier.) The next day, her sister came from Ziri, and brought her some clothes. Then Cilka got a ride to Kranj, where she found me and other acquaintances. She got a room and food at a workers' hostel and a job at our shoemakers' cooperative.

We both continued working at the shoemakers' cooperative in Kranj until May 1945, when World War II came to an end in Europe. At that time it became clear that the communists would take control of all of Jugoslavia, and we would have to leave our homeland.

Zakelj Diary Home Page: http://zakeljdiary.s5.com/