A Ukrainian Tale

A Ukrainian Tale

My father was born on 29th April 1929 in Bronica, Western Ukraine, near the Polish border. He was the youngest of a large family, he had three brothers: Roman, Stefan, Vassel and he also had a sister. They farmed the land as most Ukrainians did, the country being blessed with fertile soil.

The Ukraine suffered more than any other country during the Second World War, it is estimated that 7.5 million people lost their lives, not just a result of the Nazi invasion but also due to the Stalinist purges.

My father seldom spoke of his war years, as if the horror and unhappiness was something he did not want to go back through, as if the horror was too painful to recount. He did tell the family that after the invasion of his country he was captured and taken away by the Nazis, but somehow managed to escape. How he did this is unknown, he was a young teenager thrust into a world of confusion and devastation, desperate to survive.

During this time he was in constant fear for his life, not just from the Nazis but also the Russian army. He escaped through Prague and at the end of the war made his way to Frankfurt. He said he followed the railway tracks at night and stole to survive. He only spoke Ukrainian but quickly had to learn some Polish, German and finally English to survive.

He eventually registered as a displaced person in Frankfurt in the American quarter and in March 1948 arrived in Britain. He was moved to South Wales where he worked hard as a coal miner for 35 years. He never made it back to the Ukraine, he never knew what happened to his father, mother, brothers or sister. He died on the 12th September 2003. This is his tribute. He came all the way from the Ukraine to be my father. His name: Walter (Volodymyr) Beyba.

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