Author, Tadeusz PrzeGalinski Born in Yur’ yevka

Near Kyiv, Ukraine former Soviet Union, Russia.

Drawing by Author




April 1945 I Surrendered in Germany to U.S. Forces.

I was 14 years old.

My sister Anne was 6 months old.

To avoid becoming a P.O.W. I discarded my German uniform.

The baby's clothes, my pullover and trousers

Were given to us in Tittling i. Dreiburgenland

By friendly Bavarian locals.


Anti-Tank 37mm projectile did not explode inside my house next to my left foot.


1942 In view, is a Russian Anti-Tank projectile meant to hit the German Tank next to our house, Instead it hit our house right below the window Mom Nina and I were huddling in the left corner.  When the Round hit the dirt floor, dust went up.  After the dust settled, I looked to my left, maybe 2 ft from my left foot.  It looked like a little piglet.  It did not explode.  This was the 4th time out of 17 times that God saved me, before I was 18 years old.


1941 Hitler saved him from Stalin, 1945 U.S. Forces saved him from Hitler.

God saved him 17 times before he was 18 years old

 11 year old boy missing for over 70 years. Born near Kiev, Ukraine, Soviet Union. 1942 under the gun at the age of 11 Conscripted by the German Army with his Mother Nina as Nazi Forced Labor. Retreating from Russia to Germany with his captors. For over 2 years, he never slept in a house or ate at a table. In April 1945 he surrendered to the U.S. Forces in Tittling i Dreiburgenland Bavaria Germany he was 14 years old. 1952, 7 years later he joined the U.S, Army in Germany, Ratified by the 81ST 82nd and 84th Congress for five years of active duty. At the age of 22 he became a U.S. Soldier

To spy on U.S.S.R. The Soviet Union.

In 1953 he was injured in Korea, in 1958 he became a U.S. Citizen. 1973 his Army records were lost in a fire at the National Archives in St. Louise, Missouri. The Author feels that because of his contract with the US Army and the intelligence operations his Army records were destroyed on purpose by fire to keep it a secret. After 3 years in the United States Court of Appeals for Veterans claims in Washington, DC on Appeal. On April 13, 2011, the Board made a decision, 57 years after the injuries he became a Disabled Korean Veteran. The missing boy Tadeusz PrzeGalinski-Tad Galin now 83 years old, was just discovered residing with his Wife, June and his family in Boca Raton, Florida. He has 8 family members left on this Planet. He also just finished his Autobiography on eBook and the

Web-Site over 40 years in writing.

“The world just gained a one of a kind World War II Life Story that Survived

Title Page





The I in the Title represents some 65 Million Dead as well as the Living. 1929 before my birth lost my Father Land and my Legacy to the Russian Dictator Josef Stalin. At the age of 11, my Mother Nina and I by the grace of God were not killed but actually “saved” as (Nazi Laborers) by the wrath of Hitler and his army during World War II, details in later pages.


The Struggle of Perseverance over Adversity of Tadeusz PrzeGalinski.

A Saga: of an Eleven Year old Boy

Rebuilding “My Legacy, a Family Estate for over 60 Years in the Making”


The Inherent Right & Duty  to Build Your Own Legacy !

How long does it take to build one As long as you are Free !  


1930 starts my life under Josef Stalin of the Soviet Union., the Russian Dictator from whom Hitler “saved” us.  Hitler did so on June 22, 1941 by invading Russia.  At the age of 11, under the gun, my Mother Nina and I were conscripted in to Hitler’s Army as Nazi Forced Labor. We endured 3-years in Hitler’s Army from June 1942 to April 1945, 26 grueling Months of retreating to Germany with our captors. While in retreat, I never slept in a house or ate at a table, surviving on the fringes of the German Russian frontlines during World War II. 1945 Surrendered at the age of 14 to the U.S. Forces in Tittling i. Dreiburgenland Bavaria, Germany. August 1950, as Tadeusz Przegalinski I Joined the U.S. Army in Germany, ratified by the 81ST 82nd and 84th Congress for five years of Active Duty, to SPY on my country U.S.S.R.  In 1952 never went to school, could not speak or write English, I arrived in U.S.A. as a U.S. Soldier from Germany. 1953 13 months in Korea was injured on the 38th parallel. 1958 I became a United States Citizen. 1995 building Legacy for Life a Family Estate to the present 2010. As one book review states from Cornelis Suijk, President Contemporary Holocaust Education Foundation New York November, 8-2007. “Your amazing integration in the American Society, fulfilling convincingly the legend of the so-called American Dream.” My book has been in writing for over forty years for the purpose of preserving our Heritage and the American-European History.  


By Tad Galin   

 Legacy for Life:



PROLOGUE: Hitler and Stalin in my Life

  “Legally Free”
Some Sixty Years from Kiev
(Kyiv) Ukraine Soviet Union, Russia


1942 at the age of eleven my Mother and I were conscripted as forced labor by the German Transport Regiment Shtrahlo, choice, get shot or concentration camp! 1943 in retreat with our captors to Germany for the next three grueling years. The uniform of the German Wehrmacht was no match for the cold of a Russian Winter. I know this—I wore one. It began during the winter on January 31, 1943, when the siege of Stalingrad failed to bring Russia to its knees and Field Marshal Friedrich von Paulus surrendered January 31, 1943 to the Russian Forces at the battle for Stalingrad. Hitler’s fine plans had gone awry, and now it was the macht (the “might”) of the German Wehrmacht that was broken—first stalled and stymied by the stubborn Russian resistance. Now utterly broken by the brutality of winter in Russia, the German armies in disarray, fled through Ukraine frantic in their retreat back to the Fatherland. I’ve often thought of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. On June 24, 1812, pontoon bridges were installed across the river Niemen, and on June 26 Napoleon met his generals there. The full-scale invasion of Russia had begun. But the vast terrain and logistics of supplies were beyond his control, and the horrible winter that year sealed his fate. March 1814 the allied forces of Great Britain, Russia, Prussia and Austria defeated the army of Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte of France and exiled him to the island of Elba. History had repeated itself 130 years later as if Hitler’s fate was almost identical to that of Napoleon. My Mother, Nina, and I were there in the middle of it. At thirteen and no winter clothing with some other twenty labor conscripts, a German Officer Feltfebel Klüwa ordered a Russian labor conscript to make me a jacket and trousers out of an old German overcoat. All I had and wore earlier trousers made out of a potato sack. Later when I briefly fell into Russian hands I told them that I was an orphan. The two Russian soldiers gave me a lift to the next Village. Thank god I did not have the German uniform on jet, this saved my life, it was not my time. I got back to the German unit and my Mother.  Soviet Ukrainians of Polish descent now branded wearing the colors of the German Wehrmacht. I couldn’t run away even if I wanted to. Josef Przegalinski, my Father, was no longer with us. In 1938, he had been taken from us by the Bolsheviks and deported to Siberia for the second—and final—time. He never returned. As I write this, I still don’t know his fate though I have tried to determine from the post-Soviet authorities what may have happened to him. Today Tadeusz Przegalinski is a very different man from the boy who escaped from starvation; from concentration camps; from mortar rounds landing in my bedroom; and from a hundred other deaths in Russia, Ukraine, Bessarabia, Romania, Hungary, Poland, and Germany during the Second World War. Even my name is different. In 1958, taking “Tad” from Tadeusz and “Galin” from Przegalinski, I became Tad Galin—a name that reflects both my European roots and my new life in America. By Gods Grace my life was saved.




                                  1931                                                 Drawing by Arthur


                                            1929 My Father Josef’s first deportation to Siberia

My Mother Nina Przegalinska-maiden name- Piotrowska twenty one years old I am six months old. Sixty eight years later I drew this picture in Palm Bay, Florida of My Humble Estate in Yur’yevka near Kyiv Ukraine, Soviet Union.

   1929 My Father’s Estate was already taken by the Bolsheviks. All men had to register and join the new Russian Dictator Josef Stalin’s Deal. As my Father Josef stood in line to join Josef Stalin’s Communism, he told them that he was from Missouri; “You took my land, my horses, my entire Estate, everything we owned. I would have to see what you guys are all about.” and he walked away. After My Father walked away, 70 men said that they were also from Missouri and walked away. Shortly there after at night my father was arrested and soon the rest of the 70 men were also arrested and many more. This was the first deportation of my Father Josef before I was born. The bloody footprints, usually appearing at midnight, that took my father away and the beginning of mass deportations to Gulags and liquidation of “Kulaks”- Landowners. Josef was sent to Dnipropetrovs’k Prison first than to Khabarovsk, in far Eastern Siberia. My Mother, Nina, was three months pregnant with me. A family Doctor signed a certificate that she was pregnant in her seventh month and therefore she was not sent to Siberia with my father.

   This was my FIRST time before my birth that my life was saved. And at the age of six months my life was saved the SECOND time and the beginning of how many times my life was saved to make sure that I will write this book. Only with Gods Grace! By the time I was 18 years old my life was saved 17 times.


                                                                                                        Drawing by Author


1929 My Father Josef’s first deportation to Siberia

Winter 1930. My father, Josef Przegalinski,

Cutting trees in the Russian Taiga, Khabarovsk, Siberia.


   I had to do this drawing from my memory of a drawing that was hanging on the wall in our house alongside a portrait of my Father. It was done by my Father’s Brother, Pawel, when they joined my Father in this forsaken Russian Labor Camp for the purpose of passing to my Father a forged passport. My Mother and I were picked up by armed German soldiers in 1942.  In a rush under the gun, we left these precious pictures hanging there. On January 31st1943, Field Marshal Paulus surrendered to the Russian Forces at Stalingrad. This was the beginning of the end and the beginning of German retreat. We were leaving my Village of Petropavlovka for the first and the last time. As I watched the houses on fire, not knowing that the most precious two pictures were also going up in flames. I have tried and tried to render a picture of my Father. To my mind I could not even get close, but, how could I know if I was close or not. I will have to do it before this book is published. I finally figured it out as to why it is difficult to render a picture of my own Father. After my Father’s escape I had a chance to spend with him my first seven years of my life. Many times my Father was telling us about the hard life in Siberia. He was pointing at this drawing most of the time. This brutal life and the scene were indelibly imprinted on my subconscious mind. So I got the message and the scene but not the messenger. I feel strongly that the picture above does resemble my Father very much. He is carrying a long timber cutting saw.



                                                                              ART RENDERING




Josef Stalin


      As alleged,

Stalin’s Henchman







And a Brutal Killer


By some estimates, 40 million perished in the Soviet Union during the Purges. Including my Father Josef Przegalinski 1929 Bolsheviks sent my Father to Siberian Prison, one year later he escaped. In 1938 KGB (The Soviet State Security Police) arrested Josef and sent him back to Siberia for the second and the last time. I was 7 years old.











JOSEF STALIN (1879-1953): Stalin was born Josef Dzhugashvili on December 20, 1879, in Gori, a little town in the Georgian Caucasus not far from Tiflis. He won a scholarship to the Tiflis Theological Seminary at the age of eighteen and enrolled. He was studying to become a holy man. God should have kept him there. Instead, he joined a clandestine, local social democratic party while a student. He was expelled from the Seminary in 1899. Stalin’s obsession with power grew over the next couple of decades, and on April 3, 1922, when Lenin was incapacitated by a stroke; he became General Secretary of the Soviet Union. By 1930 his opponents were exiled or dead. He was in total control and remained so until his death on March 5, 1953. Stalin was the number one exterminator of the human race in all history. His rampant paranoia and love of power led him to build hundreds of concentration camps from Moscow to Siberia, where anybody and everybody who disagreed with him was sent—most never to return. Roy Medvedev, writing in the semiofficial Argumentry i Fakty, reached a figure of 40 million, including victims of the 1929-33 purges of landowners and dissidents as well as those who had been deported during the Second World War and after. ADOLF HITLER (1889-1945): Hitler was born an Austrian, at Braunau, a German-speaking town near the German border. As a teenager, he dreamed of becoming an artist, to the anger and frustration of his father, a government worker. At eighteen, he left home and moved to Vienna, where he applied to the Academy of Fine Arts. But he failed the entrance exam. A year later he tried and failed again. Living in flophouses, eating at soup kitchens, and failing at his passion, Hitler learned young how to hate. He was in a cosmopolitan city that recognized eight official languages, and he felt that his German background was being eaten away. He began dreaming of reuniting all scattered Germans into a grand super-nation. In time, he realized that he had found a new passion. Art gave way to politics. He moved to Germany, fought in World War I, and found a willing audience for the ultra nationalism he preached. He attempted a failed coup called the Beer Hall Putsch in Munich in 1923, for which he was imprisoned. During his imprisonment, Hitler wrote his book, Mein Kampf,-My Struggle July 18 1925 Hitler published Mein Kampf. Within two decades he would be the master and Chancellor of Germany from 1933 to 1945 of a brainwashed race, and the eager executioner of millions. In another world, Hitler could have been a painter, and Stalin a man of God; and 170 million lives may have been changed. I know, my life was changed!  

THE AUTHOR--TADEUSZ PRZEGALINSKI (1930-present): Born December 8, 1930, in the small village of Yur’yevka near Kyiv (Kiev) in Ukraine. Soviet Union One year later, after Stalin had deported his father, Jozef, to Siberia, his father escaped in 1931, found his family, and fled with them to the village of Novosiolovka, in Southern Ukraine, Tad was 6 mo. old. In 1938—when Tad was not yet eight years old.—Through a cousins wife Helga the informant, the KGB arrested Josef and deported him to Siberia for the second, and final, time. In 1942, Hitler’s army conscripted his Mother, Nina, and Tad as Nazi Forced laborers. In the end, through luck, bravery, and unlikely acts of kindness and mercy, they would survive the next three years to see the downfall of the Third Reich and the first chance for true freedom that either had ever known.





THIS BOOK is dedicated above all to those who died and those who survived—the greatest carnage and bloodbath that the world has ever experienced. That carnage would not only engulf the entire European continent as it raged, but also affect the lives of the living—throughout the world—for generations to come. This story is written with gratitude to all those who defeated the forces of an evil ideology and allowed a man like myself to live and write: GENERAL DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER, (on page 217) whose brilliant deployment of troops made “Operation Overlord,” on June 6, 1944, successful; ANDREW HIGGINS, (on page 10) inventor and builder of the LCVP landing craft that carried U.S. troops to the shores of Normandy on that decisive day; self-thought genius in small-boat design. It turned out to be that those small boats saved this country of ours and us; to be sure, we would be speaking German and or Japanese by now. WINSTON CHURCHILL, the RAF and the British people, for “never, never” surrender. GENERAL BERNARD MONTGOMERY, (on page 13) whose leadership made the defeat of FIELD MARSHAL ROMMEL-Germanys Best “Desert Fox” African Corps a reality; GENERAL CONSTANTIN K. ROKOSSOVSKY (on page 13) with MARSHAL GEORGI ZHUIKOV Planned to turn Stalingrad into a trap for the German Forces. Defeating MARSHAL PAULUS at Stalingrad and capturing his Sixth Army and Defeating the German Forces at the Battle of Kursk. RUSSIAN, UKRAINIAN, POLISH, FRENCH, BELGIUM, NORVEGIAN, CHECH REPUBLIC. 5,000,000  underground resistance fighters, who disrupted German logistics throughout the war; the persons who perfected the radar that virtually put Hitler’s U-Boat fleet out of action. ADMIRAL RAYMOND AMES SPRUANCE At Midway in 1942, sank 10 Japanese warships, all 4 aircraft carriers, downed 275 aircraft and killed 4,800 Japanese. Even though outnumbered, SPRUANCE deployed his strength cleverly. SPRUANCE received the Distinguished Service Medal. With ADMIRAL SPRUANCE, ADMIRAL HALSEY, and ADMIRAL NIMITZ, they turned the tide of the Pacific War at the Battle of Midway;

MARGARET THATCHER, THE “IRON LADY” Former Prime Minister of Britain. Along with the 40th U.S. President Ronald Reagan, Lech Walesa, and John Paul II they were major players in the Soviet Union collapse. Visit to Poland November 1988 the history changing visit, Thatcher with Lech Walesa in Gdansk Shipyard. “Thatcher the Author of STATECRAF.”










Berlin Wall went down page 238



Ronald Reagan, the Shining Simbol of Peace!


RONALD WILSON REAGAN 2-6-1911 June 5, 2004 40th President of the United

States. In his Famous Speech June 12, 1987, “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this

Wall.” It Went down November 9, 1989. May 16, 2002 Ronald Regan was

Awarded a Congressional Medal.

“According to the Galactic Years the caliber of these men comes to us only

Every 300 years”. When the World needed them they were there for us, the

Likes of Winston Churchill, General Dwight D. Eisenhower and Ronald Reagan-

-“The fall of the Berlin Wall-and the fall of Communism.” We and the world

Needs them now.

At the end of his two terms in office, Ronald Reagan viewed with satisfaction the achievements of his innovative program known as the Reagan Revolution, which aimed to reinvigorate the American people and reduce their reliance upon Government. He felt he had fulfilled his campaign pledge of 1980 to restore "the great, confident roar of American progress and growth and optimism."









June 1944 General Eisenhower Addressing the D-Day Troops in England.


1944-45 At 13, retreating with the German captors through Budapest, to Rajka Hungary, from Rajka, in order not to get captured by the Russian Forces we continued retreating via railroad to Warsaw, Poland. The Warsaw uprising was in January 1943. We surrendered to the U.S. Forces in Germany in April, 1945. I was 14 years old.







                                                                                                       ART RENDERING


Andrew Higgins Inventor and builder of the LCVP landing craft that carried U.S. troops to the shores of Normandy on that decisive day; and all other Pacific Invasions. Andrew Higgins was hot-tempered, loudmouthed, and given to drinking a bottle of whisky a day. He was also a self-taught genius in small-boat design. Dwight Eisenhower to call him “the man who won the war for us.” Higgins inspired his workers the way a general inspires his troops. A huge sign above the work floor announced: “The Man Who Relaxes Is Helping the Axis.” In his factory’s bathrooms, Higgins displayed pictures of Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito sitting on toilets. “Come on in, brother,” the caption, read. “Take it easy. Every minute you loaf here “helps us plenty.” Permission for above caption was given to me by National D-day Museum New Orleans, LA. E-Mail In return I was asked for a copy of this book for the Museum. With great appreciation, I will be sending a copy of Hitler, Stalin and I as soon as it is published to be utilized as a resource at the D-day Museum.





                                                                                                ART RENDERING

The Japanese Navy had Corregidor Island in Philippines surrounded. On 22 February 1942 General MacArthur narrowly escaped Japanese capture, the General escaped from Corregidor Island by PT boat to Mindanao than fly to Australia from Del Monte on a B-17 Flying Fortress, His Farwell Words Were,

I Shall Return

This General returned to Philippines and his words became history. Today every Filipino knows the history and who General MacArthur is. Sadly most people in U.S.A. Don’t have a clue. For this, The History will come back, again and again!


On September 2, 1945 General Douglas MacArthur who was brilliant throughout his command in the Philippines and Pacific, accepted the surrender of Japan aboard the U.S.S. Missouri in Tokyo Bay, ending World War II.

Like Father Like Son

His Grandfather emigrated from Scotland His Mentor was his Father, General

MacArthur On November 25, 1863 at the age of eighteen his father led his Regiment up Missionary Ridge for which he received the Congressional Medal of Honor General Douglas MacArthur is also a Medal of Honor recipient in utter disregard of personal danger during the Battle of Bataan in the Philippines at the Beginning of World War II.


5 months earlier April 1945 I was 14 years old we surrendered to the US Forces in Germany.












    “Build me a son, O Lord, who will be strong enough to know when he is weak, and brave enough to face himself when he is afraid; one who will be proud and unbending in honest defeat, and humble and gentle in victory. Build me a son whose wishbone will not be where his backbone should be; a son who will know Thee—and that to know himself is the foundation stone of knowledge. Lead him, I pray, not in the path of ease and comfort, but under the stress and spur of difficulties and challenge. Here let him learn to stand up in the storm; here let him learn compassion for those who fail. “Build me a son whose heart will be clear, whose goal will be high; a son who will master himself before he seeks to master other men; one who will learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep; one who will reach into the future, yet never forget the past. And after all these things are his, add, I pray, enough of a sense of humor, so that he may always be serious, yet never take himself too seriously. Give him humility, so that he may always remember the simplicity of true greatness, the open mind of true wisdom, the meekness of true strength. “Then, I, his father, will dare to whisper, ‘I have not lived in vain.”


—General Douglas MacArthur












                                                                              ART RENDERING


General Montgomery, center, with his aide to his right, General Rokossovsky to his left, and two Russian Senior Aides in the background. My deepest thanks to the Russian Ukrainian Soldiers, and the Russian people and the ones that went underground and became Partisans.



A Salute to the Universal Anti-Fascist

Resistance Underground Movement “PARTISANS—USSR  




Pictured above, “Ronald Wilson Reagan-the fall of the Berlin Wall” Andrew Higgins, General Eisenhower, General Montgomery, General Rokossovsky and

General Douglas McArthur.

With the greatest gratitude and appreciation to these great men that freed the world and gave a man like me a country, a total freedom to raise my family in peace,  build my family legacy and write my life story.









                                                                                                            Galin’s Library                                                       


My innocent youth was soon coming to an end.


Hitler and Hermann Göring, Chief of the German Air Force (light uniform), are enjoying the vastness of the European continent. England and Russia were in his way Hitler wanted “Das Lebens Raum.-Elbow Room” On June 22, 1941, Hitler invaded the Soviet Union under the code name Barbarossa.



One of Hitler’s favorite warriors.

June 22, 1941 the surprise attack on Russia was named after the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa of the Holy Roman Empire, a leader of the Crusades in the 12th century.
















Operation Barbarossa

 (Hitler’s Code Name for the Surprise Invasion of the Soviet Union)

Sunday June 22, 1941. By noon Soviet Union has lost 1200

Airplanes Most of them never got off the ground.

Stalin is said to have had a "nervous breakdown" when told of the invasion he did not speak for 11 days.



Savagely Unleashed on Russia.


   World War II had begun almost two years earlier, when Germany invaded Poland on September 1, 1939. But until now, it had not been our war. Stalin and Hitler were supposedly—if not cozy friends—at least not enemies. That changed. Chaos ran rampant when the announcement over the loud speakers at the rail station came; Germany invaded Russia. My Mother, Nina, was going home from a resort in Dniepropetrovsk a City on the River Dnieper in Southern Ukraine. Her first two-week vacation in her life given to her by the Hospital that she worked at. According to my Mother when she watched as people ran around trying to get onboard trains to get home and see their loved ones before they were sent to the front lines. Russian soldiers swarmed the train station. Some trying to get home and others determined to get to the front. Throughout the station the loudspeakers were calling out names. Mother managed to get into one of the crowded cars. On the journey home, the conversations around her were all about family members who would soon be sent off to war. There were tears in many eyes. I also remember that day, a Sunday. Since there were no churches anymore, one of the nurses living with us, Marusyia—a petite girl with black hair and dark eyes who I was in love with at the age of eleven—took me to see a movie. I don’t remember the name of the movie just that it was one of the old Soviet propaganda films talking about the five-year plan and showing people in the fields working singing and looking happy. This was the church that my father had worked on that was renovated into a theater several years earlier. When the movie was over people stood outside for a while talking like they normally did. But somebody came and spread the news of the German attack and it ripped through the crowd. It was like standing on the floor of the Stock Exchange while the Dow was tanking. People were all talking ten times faster and running around. It was crazy. Marusyia took my hand we went to the hospital for the rest of the afternoon. I stayed until the sun was low in the sky and then I walked home so I could watch the beautiful sunset and wait for Mom to get home from her vacation I was 11, sleeping in front of our humble little one room house front cover page.









That was always my favorite time to be outside anyway. Marusyia stayed at the hospital because it was her night to be on duty. When I got home I sat outside waiting for mother to come home. Neighbors would pass by and we’d talk about the news. Nobody knew any more than I did. I was worried about my mother but everybody would tell me not to worry, that she’d be okay and would be home soon. I fell asleep outside on the long bench like seat about one foot high across the front of the house that I made it out of clay, straw and sticks. It was comfortable to sit on it, shelling sunflower and pumpkin seeds with my teeth and eating them. On some evenings, with a small gathering of neighbors someone always starts singing. At the sunset when the workers would be coming home from the Government owned fields, kolkhoz would stop and join us. It seemed like the entire village would be singing. In a strange way those evenings were lots of fun and welcome for this was the only entertainment we had. But now, Germany invaded the Soviet Union and our lives were changed in an instant. I woke up late in the evening to see my mother stepping out of a carriage that had brought her home from the hospital. It was the longest I had gone without my mother around and I was glad that she was back okay. When mother had arrived back in town from her government-granted vacation trip, Baty’ko was waiting at the train station with the horse drawn carriage that would take her straight to the hospital. After a brief welcoming ceremony the bad news was announced that Dr. Yazura and all the single nurses had been called up for service on the German front. This is the same Dr. Yazura that operated on me three years earlier. There was a gloom of death hanging in the halls of the hospital that evening.

                                            GALINS LIBRARY


Captured German War Equipment 1943

Mechanized Artillery of the Wehrmacht, side view.


When Nina finally got home from the Hospital, Nina the girls and I all huddled and cried. The girls had all been drafted—called in to defend their land and the Russian Dictator Josef Stalin who had spent a decade murdering our people. These were my friends, like my sisters. And just like that, three more people that I loved went away. When we eventually said goodbye there was an awful sense of finality to it, followed by total uncertainty, fear and despair.



                                                                                              Galin’s Library


December 11, 1941

Right to left: First Row: Hitler, Ribbentrop, Raeder, and Keitel

Second Row: Darre, unknown, Seldte, Frank

Occasion: Declaration of War against the United States of America.


   The German Charge d’Affaires, Dr. Hans Thomsen, and the First Secretary of the German Embassy, Mr. von Strempel, called at the State Department at 8 A.M. on December 11, 1941. The Secretary, otherwise engaged, directed that they be received by the Chief of the European Division of the State Department, Mr. Ray Atherton. Mr. Ray Atherton received the German representatives at 9:30 A.M. The German Representatives handed to Mr. Atherton a copy of a note that is being delivered this morning, December 11, to the American Charge d’Afair in Berlin. Dr. Thomsen said that Germany considers herself in a state of war with the United States.

                                                         SELF PORTRAIT


In 1942 I was eleven years old. Under the gun, my Mother Nina and I were conscripted into Hitler’s German Army as Nazi Forced laborers. I was named Adolf by the Company Commanding Officer Feltfebel Edwin Klüwa. At the age of twelve I was given a German tailored uniform. It never entered my mind when I had a chance to escape without my Mother. Then later, this German uniform that I wore did not make matters easier to go underground without my Mother. Escaping was not a choice the Germans our captors knew this.

“All of the Original Hitler’s Pictures in this eBook at one time were highly classified by U.S. Intelligence and may be the only pictures in existence today are Owned by the Author Tad Galin”  








3 Years Later



When we surrendered in April 1945, I was fourteen years old and Anneliese was six months old. The clothing, pullover and trousers were given to me and Anneliese by the locals.


   To our amazement we found that the Americans did not really care where we came from. The first thing they did, knowing that we had eaten little for weeks, was to provide meals for everyone. Among other foods that the Americans gave us, were Corn Flakes. I still remember the little box with wax paper lining inside. Just pour in milk and you could eat on the run. I love it to this day.






6 Years Later

1951 I joined the US Army in Germany ratified by the

81st   82nd and 84th Congress



The two Soldiers in the Center of the picture show “1917 and 1953 Uniforms”. Soldier on the left is Pvt. Joseph La Page of Lewiston, Maine, third generation of his family to come into the Army in Fort Devens Massachusetts. He is dressed in a 1917 uniform. The other soldier is the author, Pvt. Tadeusz Przegalinski of Ukraine, Alien enlistee from behind the Iron Curtain. The passage of the Lodge Act of 1950, Pentagon Requested 12,500 Bilinguals for 5 years of active duty for various Army Intelligence. Approved and Ratified by the 81st 82nd and 84TH Congress Pvt. Tadeusz was attending the English Language School at Fort Devens. Looking on are: Ernest G. Seeley, first inductee of Camp Devens on 5 September 1917, and Mrs. Seeley, honored guests for Armed Forces Day.



(Official U.S. Army Photo by Pvt. Edwards)



Public Law 597—81st Congress

(As amended by PL 51—82nd Congress, PL

414—82nd Congress, and PL 149—84th Congress)

An Act to provide for the enlistment of aliens in the Regular Army.







      Not quite a Vacation, this is Korea.

Beautiful and dreary Sand like Mountains in the background

Green Beautiful young Forest in the foreground, very young.

Just keep looking you’ll see it.


Field Hospital

and Company Mascot

“Boots”4white paws

40th Infantry Division

625th Field Artillery Battalion

A Battery on the 38th Parallel


We were soldiers and very-very young


   1953 Guarding Perimeter in Korea and the simple life, lots of fresh air. It seems as if Siberia and Alaska met right here in the wintertime 5,000 miles from nowhere! Bottom right a half track that pulls 105 or 155 howitzer artillery pieces. They do not do well this deep in the river. It was a job to pull it out and make it operational again. I am working on one on page-272. Not far to the left during an alert I was injured while running to the machinegun position.


Dr. Layer Friesen and I red hat.


2009 Boca Raton Florida it has been close to twenty years since Dr. Layer Friesen and I put these first sixteen pages on his small computer.


1990 I was in a water refining business in Boca Raton, Florida. I loved to prospect for new distributors. It gives me that gold rush feeling. On this particular day as usual I was in a condominium complex Boca Linda enjoying myself, knocking on doors, never knowing when the right person with a good attitude is going to open that door. A gentleman opened the door. I introduced myself. He said, “I am Dr. Layre Friesen. Come on in.” Layre is from a family of Mennonite’s from Ottawa, Canada. His folks were originally from Crimea Soviet Union. We became good friends. Layre has an interesting background and a great heart. He said, “I, too, am writing a book. We will find lots in common.” I spent most of my time with Layre in his office helping him. Layre helped me to start my first sixteen pages of this book on his computer. In return I would be helping Layre with some chores, like proof reading his book and running some errands. Now with sixteen pages in hand plus my hand written notes and tapes that Anne and I secretly taped our Mother Nina. In 1999 Melbourne, Florida as a Vice President with Legacy for Life I resigned, purchased a Compact Presario Computer and now; 20 years later and 488 pages with over 170 pages of photographs and documents.       


Again I was prospecting and met Alerte Robenson; his computer man was Ron Seenauth. Ron became my computer man also.  

Ron and his Wife Evelyn residing in Boynton Beach, Fl a Web Site Guru, Ron and I  we have set up my Web Site;  an e-Book it is live as of now-Wednesday, 10-21-2009 Thanks Ron! for being so persistent and insistent for all these months to start building my Web Site. Great to have you 2-as friends!   

This story has been in writing well over 40 years.



62 years later


Geneva Switzerland, Compensation for Forced Labor under Nazi Regime

To put it in perspective:


As to on what basses my claim for forced labor

Under the Nazi Regime was resolved and approved.

Taken from the document page.



              YOUR CLAIM.




















May 13, 2004 I Received 2 Checks for $1,572. 35 Each




Basic Training

Ripley’s had a tough time to catch up with me.

   On May 27, 1953, I was assigned to the 44th Infantry Division at Ft. Lewis, Washington for sixteen weeks of basic training. After Basic Training, Korea 38º was my next Military Duty of 13 months. Winter 1953 I was injured, 60 years later I became a disabled Korean Veteran














From Strathmore’s Who’s Who

Galin, Sr., Tad


Industry: Healthcare, Marketing and Consulting/New Biotechnology Legacy for Life Immune Support System i26®. Born: Tadeusz Przegalinski December 8, 1930, in Yur’yevka, near Kyiv, Ukraine Soviet Union. His Father was deported to Siberia by the Russian Dictator Josef Stalin before he was born. 1941-42 during the German advancing Forces to Stalingrad. Under the gun, Conscripted from a small Village of Petropavlovka as Nazi Forced laborers with his Mother Nina at the age of eleven. In            

1945. At

     To Teach The World     At the age of 14 surrendered to the U.S. Forces

 To Prosper Altogether      In a small town of Tittling Bavaria Germany. August 1950, Tadeusz Przegalinski Joined the U.S. Army in Germany ratified by the 81ST 82 and 84th Congress for five years of Active Duty. Univ. / degree:/Honorary degrees: 1952 Language School, Ft. Devens, MA. Set up by U.S. Armed Forces. 1953-54 while serving with 40th and 25th Division, was injured on the 38th parallel in Korea. August 27, 1954 I US CORPS Non-commissioned Officers’ Academy at Camp Jecelin, Korea. 1954 US Army Intelligence in Seoul Korea. 1955 Heavy-Track-Tank Wheel Vehicle Specialist at Schofield Barracks Hawaii. 1955 G.E.D. Studies Honolulu Hawaii. High school Diploma from Austin Texas. 1956 Famous Artist School, Inc., Westport, CT. Tad changed his name from Tadeusz Przegalinski to Tad Galin on May 20th 1963, COURT HOUSE Cleveland Ohio. 1987 AL. Williams Regional Vice President Insurance and Securities. Recruiting and training Agents. Current organization: Legacy for Life Title: Presidential Director. Type of Organization: Distribution and Exclusive Marketing, Major Product: IMMUNE 26®, IMMUNE 26â COMPLETE SUPPORT and related IMMUNE products worldwide. Area of distribution: National and International. Expertise: Marketing and building distribution worldwide Honors/ awards: Awarded by U.S. Army—Distinguished Unit Emblem, Army of Occupation Medal (Germany), Korean Service Medal, Presidential Unit Citation-the 40th U.S, Infantry Division by Syngman Rhee, President of the Republic of Korea 7/27/53, United Nations Medal, National Defense Service Medal, Good Conduct Medal; Letter from former President George H.W. Bush complimenting him on his book “Hitler, Stalin and I”; Listed also in the second Who’s Who, Marquis Who’s Who in America, 2002 edition. Hobbies/Sports: Soccer before Korean injuries. Art, classical guitar, chess, and the beaches.

Legacy for Life:







Special thanks to all who encouraged me and helped to make this book a reality: Dr. Lawrence Friesen, a great friend and great help in starting my first sixteen pages. Ellen Freeman, for her persistence as a cheerleader to write my book. And of course, my wonderful wife June, our sons Tad, Jr., Joseph, and my sister, Anne. A special thanks to Bill Ziegler, a long-time friend. A combat soldier in Germany during World War II, he represents the soldiers that freed my Mother Nina, my sister Anne and me at the war’s end with their great efforts and sacrifice. Twenty years later, he himself helped me, in a roundabout way, to find my wife June. Thanks, Bill. A special thank you to Hellen Greenblatt Ph.D. an Immunologist, Microbiologist and Chief Science Officer Legacy for Life, for her giving character and her support to the entire field. Hellen was there when I needed the answers about the Immune System. I would like to thank Jeanne Hillenbrand, Jeff Thompson, Marie Mercer, Mara Bailey, Lorraine Concha, Chris Sullivan and Cathy Smith—librarians and public servants. Only in America can one get this kind of service for $32.00 a year. Their dedication is incredible. Degroodt Library Palm Bay Florida. I also wish to say a thank-you to my parents: Josef Przegalinski, who taught me to stand up and fight for what is right; and Nina Przegalinska, whose love and countless sacrifices could not be repaid with a dozen lifetimes. I am also in debt to the Russian writer Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn. His stories, Gulag Archipelago, and Gulag Archipelago Two, of Stalin’s labor camps helped me to understand my father even though I only knew him briefly for my firs seven years of my life during his escape from Siberian prison. Thanks also To Thomas Whitney, Solzhenitsyn’s translator, and Harper & Row Publishers for bringing his writings to the western world. Finally, I would like to offer a special word of thanks to some great individuals whom I have never met in person, but who encouraged me to see this project through to the end: General John M. Shalikashvili, page 443 former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Of Staff, Department of Defense for telling me, “You are telling a story that must be told”; General Charles A. Horner, USAF, Commander of the Air Forces during the Desert Storm Operation. Retired, for his review and suggestions (“I found your experience most unusual and moving. It would make a great novel. Our former 41st President George H. W. Bush, for taking the time to read and then write, “I can’t begin to imagine the hell you as a 12-year-old kid went through. A fascinating read this is!”


















                                                       Rutledge Books, Inc.

                                                               Danbury, CT




The following book reviews that have been received. The reviews follow herein:


In this harrowing memoir, author Tad Galin writes of his impoverished childhood. Growing up in the Soviet Union-Ukraine during the years of Russian Dictator Josef Stalin’s reign and World War II. Before his birth, the Bolsheviks had already deported Mr. Galin’s Father to Siberia. He did, however, make his escape and returned home to collect his wife and six-month-old child before fleeing to the Southern Ukraine. For eight years, the family barely survived, enduring the horrific famine of 1932-33 manufactured by Stalin as an attempt to eliminate the Ukrainian population. But sadly, Mr. Galin’s father was eventually apprehended and sent to Siberia for a second time—never to be seen again. His mother, Nina, an attractive and resourceful woman, soon secured a job at the local hospital and managed to care for her son on her own, but when Hitler’s army invaded Russia, life would change for them again. A German command post was established in the hospital in which Nina worked. Nina and her eleven-year-old son were conscripted by the Company Commanding Officer Feltfebel Edwin Klüwa as Nazi laborers to cook and work for them. As the Germans were forced to retreat from Russia, Nina under the gun was forced into accompanying the commanding officer as his companion. Nina, her son and eventually a newborn daughter became part of a German convoy that limped its way back to Germany. Mr. Galin tells his incredible coming of age saga in crisply expressive prose through which one can perceive the ineffable spirit that buoyed the author through his hardships.













General John M. Shalikashvili, former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Of Staff, Department of Defense for telling me, “You are telling a story that must be told”;


General Charles A. Horner, USAF, Commander of the Air Forces during the Desert Storm Operation. Retired, for his review and suggestions

(“I found your experience most unusual and moving. It would make a great novel”);


Wayne Green, Ph. D. Founder of Mensa


Tad, you have a fascinating story of the 20th century’s most bloody years, and told from being right in the middle. A suggestion: start from the present day. Legacy and your products, explaining their benefits. From there, how you got into this. And then to your story and tell it consecutively. Stalin’s killing the teachers, businessmen, intellectuals, and army officers, plus his starving of the Ukraine, are stories few know today. Ditto much of the details of Hitler’s murders. 


Cornelis Suijk, President Contemporary Holocaust Education Foundation New York, November 8, 2007


Dear Tad, Your fascinating life story arrived in the mail and kept me reading it breathless. Your father’s escape from Siberia, your conscription by the Germans, the retreat to Bavaria after their army collapsed “and your amazing integration in the American society, fulfilling convincingly the legend of the so-called American Dream. It constitutes as others already stated too, the ingredients for an epic novel.” To find an author and also a publisher to undertake the funding, still requires a major effort, for which I regretfully miss the necessary contacts. However, as far as I know writers of biographies, I will share your manuscript with them and suggest contacting you.


Tad, I thank you and greet you warmly!

Cornelis Suijk,


Our former 41ST President George H. W. Bush, for taking the time to read and then write, “I can’t begin to imagine the hell you as a 12-year-old kid went through. A fascinating read this is!”















The Legacy of “Legacy for Life” Story 58 Pages through page 86: 





On June 10, 1989, for health and family reasons, plus $313 million dollars, Art Williams sold the A.L Williams Insurance and Securities operations to Primerica also known as Milico. Again I was looking and praying for something to come my way,                      

Not   knowing,   that,

       Our future and Legacy was already started by Ralph Stolle in 1958

Late spring 1992 I began to research and drink Stolly Milk. 1995 I was asked to c/o found with Tad Elias a marketing arm for DuPont ConAgra  Visions. D.C.V. I started infrastructure on paper. 1997 moved from St. Augustine Fl to setup the operation in 300 sq. ft. in Melbourne Florida, I named the Co. Legacy USA Inc. July 23, 1998. Qualification Documents for Legacy USA, Inc. I filed in Tallahassee, Florida.                           



 “The Legacy” of Legacy U.S.A., Inc.

Known today as Legacy for Life

A History in the Making



The Ralph Stolle Era Started in 1958

 Began with Ralph Stolle, businessman and owner-operator of the San Mar Gale Farm in Lebanon, Ohio. Stolle Milk Biologics International


A Billionaire’s Passion Ralph Stolle


Stolle Research and Development Corporation is a subsidiary of the Ralph J. Stolle Company and has been active in the field of immune milk and research into milk biologics for over fifty years. Stolle also formed a limited partnership with the New Zealand Dairy Board where uncontaminated milk reigns supreme. The Stolle torch was passed on to us, Via DuPont., DuPont no longer has any interest in Stolle Milk, DCV, or Legacy for Life.


  *Since August 1997, Legacy for Life has not been affiliated with either DuPont or ConAgra.  Neither DuPont nor ConAgra is the source or sponsor of any products of   Legacy for Life, LLC.










The Beginning of our Legacy

And the Historic Visit with Ralph Stolle


Summer 1992, Ted Elias at that first momentous meeting in Cincinnati, Ohio, said that he found his host to be very cordial, bright and interesting. “I was quite taken with him. He was a wise old man.” Up until his nineties, Ralph Stolle had continued to be vigorous and active. People who saw him at his offices in Cincinnati or at his farm in nearby Lebanon, Ohio talked with wonderment about his energy. Elias recalls spending a whole day with him in meetings “and at the end of the day I was pretty much exhausted. He was still pumping.”. Stolle himself had no doubts about the source of his prodigious energy. It was the direct result of the scientific research he had been doing on his farm for thirty years. The research was aimed at helping the human immune system fight illness. It had resulted in a number of U.S. patents for producing hyper immune animals. One product was called Stolle Immune Milk. “Ralph Stolle was the living example of his own research,” recalls Elias. “At ninety-one years old, he was running twenty-five companies, working fourteen hours a day and loving every minute of It.” he adds. “His friends were benefiting too,” recalls Elias. “He had all these elderly friends and all were incredibly dynamic and on the go.” Stolle had told them about the amazing impact Stolle Immune Milk had on him personally and now they all were taking it and telling others about its benefits. “People joked that it was some sort of youth serum,” says Elias. Getting some form of his “youth serum” to market in the United States had become one of Stolle’s passions. As Elias observed, “Stolle had wanted to do this for years. He was a humanitarian. He felt this could improve the quality of life for millions. He did not need the money. He was a billionaire. He wanted to get the product out to the public.”


Network Marketing – A Home Based Business


As Stolle traveled about the world and ran his companies as if he were a nonstop dynamo, he told people about his product’s remarkable benefits.  From what Ted Elias could tell, Ralph Stolle seemed to have grasped a fact that had eluded many: For the kind of rapid, large scale market penetration he wanted, there could be no more powerful means of distributing a product like his than by telling people about it face to face, one person at a time. Stolle and his associates had heard the case for network marketing, and Stolle had wanted action. “He was getting frustrated. He knew time was running out for him,” said Elias. However, the people in Stolle’s company could not agree on the direction needed. Network marketing was too big and radical a step for some of them to imagine taking. Ralph Stolle died in January 1996 without realizing his dream of bringing Stolle’s Immune Milk to market. Without Stolle’s support, what had seemed like a unique opportunity for Elias-a chance to sell a remarkable health product by network marketing-slipped away. The likelihood of his picking up the pieces seemed remote.











A Quiet Man,


 Dr. Orn Adalsteinsson, a science prodigy from Reykjavik, Iceland, came to America as an undergraduate in 1969. He was recognized as one of the top ten chemical engineers in the country upon graduating from college. He then earned a Ph.D. at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, where he was deeply impressed by the complexity of the human body’s chemical interactions. The quiet, low-key Adalsteinsson ascended the austere and forbidding hierarchy of scientific achievement by illuminating the mysteries of molecules and securing valuable patents for his employers. By his early twenties, Adalsteinsson had risen high enough on the scientific pyramid to be on familiar terms with the luminaries at the very peak. In 1979, attracted by the company’s technological prowess, he joined E.I. DuPont. Nemours.

On Fire with a Mission


Despite his unassuming manner, since 1992, Adalsteinsson has been a man on fire with a mission. As vice president of D C V Inc. he is the person most closely associated with BioChoice® for the longest period of time. In spearheading its development, he had to overcome major scientific and technological obstacles. As a DuPont employee, Adalsteinsson had traveled to Ohio to meet Billionaire Ralph Stolle and evaluate the Stolle organization’s work in creating products to support the human immune system. Adalsteinsson got to know Stolle. He admired his energy and vision. “I was fascinated by his love for science and his belief in hyper immune products,” he says. For Stolle that belief included drinking daily doses of antibody-packed milk taken from cows. “Stolle was a pioneer in the domain of hyper immune products in spite of not being trained in science,” says Adalsteinsson.


Rescuing the Technology


But even the wealth and willpower of a self-made billionaire were not enough to get Stolle’s product out of the floundering stage it was in and make it suitable for manufacture and sale in the United States. That step required the acquisition of the Stolle technology by the joint venture that came to be known as D C V, Inc. Mr. Stolle knew that his antibody-laden milk helped its users in the same way that mother’s milk provides immune protection to a newborn baby. However, Mr. Stolle proposed a more powerful solution than cow’s milk. Dr. Adalsteinsson said that initially “People at first were not receptive to the idea,” he says. But Mr. Stolle knew that chicken eggs have almost twenty times more antibodies for their weight than cow’s milk. In addition, egg antibodies appeared more effective than milk antibodies in eliminating infection. Dr. Hellen Greenblatt, Vice-president of Legacy and DCV Life Sciences, recalls “the whole new way of thinking” she encountered when Adalsteinsson told her about an egg based technology. “Extremely skeptical” at first, she too came to see that the egg was a powerful biological package precisely “because it is the chicken’s only chance” to pass on immunity and nutrients to its offspring. Eggs could also be produced in huge quantities; they could be easily converted into powder form; and they could be economically packaged for convenient consumption. With D C V’s egg technology, Hyperimmune products soared from being a product used only by a billionaire and his small coterie of privileged friends to one that was available to the world at large. Taking that step required tapping into Adalsteinsson’s network of contacts in the scientific world. He knew that modern scientific progress relied on the work and knowledge of highly specialized individuals and teams. As he had seen all too clearly, in complex areas like biotechnology, maverick geniuses and independent scientific gurus rarely had the intellectual or financial capital to make important advances. In describing the way modern science works, Adalsteinsson likes to quote a saying in his native Icelandic: “An individual alone is only half; with others he is more than himself.” Adalsteinsson had easy access to these “others” as a result of his brilliant scientific career. As if in preparation for his work at DCV, he had learned of the importance of “reaching out to others” to pursue multidisciplinary solutions. Working in collaboration with DCV, Inc., the U.S. Army did two clinical studies with BioChoice®, and researchers at two leading clinics in Boston and New York – Beth Israel/Harvard and New York Hospital have also studied the product for its joint health aspects. “I think that in many ways discoveries are based on exposure, breadth, and training, and the ability to integrate all the pieces,” Adalsteinsson says.

The Marketing Challenge


Now a new challenge faced DCV, Inc. It perplexed him in a way that the science had not. Unfamiliar up to that point with network marketing, DCV, Inc. could not decide how to communicate accurately to the consumer the extensive benefits of their twenty-first century technology. One problem was that their new product was both more powerful and subtler that the pharmaceutical and medical solutions previously offered to the public.

A New Approach to Health


For example, BioChoice® was a natural product aimed at keeping people healthy rather than pumping them full of drugs and medicines after they became ill. Adalsteinsson knew consumers were rejecting the old approach to health. That approach often involved injecting the body with chemicals – with their deleterious side effects. Antibiotics killed not only the harmful, disease – causing invaders in your body, they wiped out many beneficial organisms as well. And their widespread use had led to the growth of super organisms that resisted all treatment. BioChoice®, by contrast, worked to complement and support the consumer’s own immune system, helping people heal themselves.


It helped the body support its self against viruses, bacteria, toxins, parasites, fungi, and other organisms. It presaged an enormous boon to people with autoimmune diseases such as arthritis and lupus. In the view of Dr. Hellen Greenblatt, it was also a product that enabled users to go beyond the old standard of simply “not being sick” and allowed them to improve the quality of their lives. Dr. Greenblatt and the others on the DCV team began speaking of BioChoice® as having the power to usher in “a new golden age” of health and well-being. Dr. Adalsteinsson believed that its benefits might continue to be discovered for years to come.


How to Tell Consumers


   The benefits, in fact, were so numerous that no conventional method of telling consumers about it would be suitable. It was a product with essential vitamins including 100% daily value of the all-important anti-oxidants. Its multivalent vaccine included organisms ranging from Salmonella to E. Coli to the organisms that cause tooth decay. Even a glance at the links on the DCV Web site shows the huge variety of potential users. The DCV Web site also links to sites on preventive medicine and sexual health. At the same time, Adalsteinsson was expending every breath on building support for BioChoice®. He was campaigning single-mindedly “to get buy-ins from others, to get people on the team, to do internal selling, to get others on board.” His campaign included sending BioChoice® to corporate personnel, including a key executive at ConAgra and his secretary, both of whom suffered from arthritis. The executive quickly found relief from the stiffness in his neck and was able to resume his passion for hunting. His secretary felt so much better she was able to put off her planned retirement and work for several more years. With such reinforcement, the stock of BioChoice® rose internally. Anecdotes about such dramatic results became part of the unofficial lore of the company, cited at meetings as proof of the power of personal testimonials.

    1992 Boca Raton Florida I had traveled all around the country for almost forty years looking for the edge. I had even come close to finding it a few times. I didn’t regret one minute or one choice but I was sure ready to have things fall into place. I do remember being so discouraged one day. It wasn’t hard to slip down that spiral of depression and of feeling like a failure. Or worst yet, feeling sorry for myself. Some times I felt that I had done it all and yet success still eluded me; I was still struggling. I was thinking that God must have been at the craps table in Vegas, because he sure wasn’t answering my prayers.

“And then it happened”


 In 1992 it seemed that the big break for which I had toiled so long was about to become a reality. At the Wild Flower Restaurant on the Intercostal Waterway in Boca Raton, Florida, I was having a drink during happy hour with a friend of mine during the years of Amway days. Ted Elias and I were discussing a new biotechnology that was being ushered in during the last decade of the 20th Century. Originally, it all started by Ralph Stolle out of Sidney, Ohio. It was known then as Stolle Milk. I loved it. This was before I named it BioChoice® or Immune 26® later. It is a story in itself. I may go there some day and continue the Ralph Stolle Story. I was excited about this breakthrough. It was a passive transfer of immune support system product for human concern, designed to help the human body maintain its immune system in top form in order to fight diseases that we come into contact with every day. It was going to be different than anything the world had ever seen with over 100 patents worldwide and it sounded like it was going to work. A bell went off in the back of my head. It sounded good and if it did work, the market for it could be bigger than anything I had ever come across. Plus, the idea of selling a product whose goal is to help people live better and longer, and if this was to be true, let’s just say it grabbed my attention. For the next several years the researchers fine-tuned their formula. I started reading—a lot! I picked up several books at the library on the immune system, read and reread them, and then got some more. Finally, I chose six books, made copies of scores of handpicked pages, and made a study guide for myself. The more I read, the more excited I got. I studied the Dietary Supplement Health Education Act of 1994, DSHEA, with the American Nutraceutical Association (ANA). After completing the ANA course with an Emphasis on the use of DSHEA, Section 5, “Labeling–Exempt Education Materials,” I was issued DSHEA Certification and I became a member of The American Nutraceutical Association.



With the education I was giving myself, it became clear that new biotechnological breakthrough in human immune support could become a viable business venture. I was getting excited that my days as a Kirby salesman might be nearing an end. But unfortunately, the effort that was needed to move from idea, to product, to marketing was taking its toll, I watched this idea flounder and fade into obscurity, helpless to do anything about it. It looked like yet another dream gone bust. DuPont owned Merck Pharmaceuticals or majority of it, i26® was a threat to the Industry and decided to lock up i26® and throw the key away. Then in 1994 the breakthrough came. In a surprise move, the President of DuPont/ConAgra Visions (D.C.V.), Dr. Earnest W. Porta, formally a Chief Scientist with DuPont he knew too much and was not going to let it happen. Dr. E. Porter led a group of thirty-two scientists, researchers, and executives arose to save the day. They bought the rights to the product originally developed and held by DuPont and ConAgra, as well as a number of other products, along with a group of research buildings and manufacturing facilities. They created a new company, called DCV, Inc., DuPont/ConAgra Visions (D.C.V.), completely separate and free from DuPont and ConAgra, the former parent companies; and they dove into marketing in earnest. DuPont originally had spent over 20 years and $50 million in research and development. DuPont had developed a formula Immune 26® that would provide a person with millions of naturally produced antibodies and other super immune co-factors to help balance one’s own immune system to fight off harmful bacteria, fungi, viruses, etc. In short, it gives major support to Mother Nature’s own extraordinary defense mechanism called Immune System. It continues to be researched to this day by a number of leading authorities, including Harvard Medical School, by the US Army and at many other sites around the world.                      Friends for Life


August 1996 upon arrival at Ted Elias’s home in Melbourne Beach, Florida, this time, for the purpose of discussing a partnership in this new venture that I later named Legacy USA Inc. June and I noticed that Ted’s wife Arlene was somewhat uneasy. We were settled quite comfortably in the living room. After a three hour drive and a good meal, we got right into it. Ted said, “Tad, I would like for you to start our new venture as partner/founder and VP.”.






For no logical reason Arlene said, “Ted, I am serious, without Tad Galin, you will not do this.” Well, I was some what surprised because I had not said a word yet. Since I was doing already all of the necessary work to set up an infrastructure with no pay for about one year, to me this was just a formality discussion. I agreed to Tad’s proposal. Arlene was delighted. I trusted Ted and never asked for a formal business agreement. In retrospect I should have. Many a nights till 2:00 AM we would lie on the floor at Ted’s home working on the marketing and compensation plan. Ted’s wife, Arlene, would say to us, “Since I don’t know what you guys are doing I am going to bed.” Come to think about it, we didn’t either, but I wouldn’t tell her that. Even though I never worked with Ted before as a partner in a corporate environment, by this time, my relationship with Ted looked like we were a great team. It seamed like Ted and Arlene were a great couple. We would meet privately at their home in Melbourne Beach at times and discussed our many strategies, challenges, and the future of Legacy at dinners or at our private meetings and at Legacy’s parties also held at their home. Our first one small room rented office of approximately 300 sq. ft. was facing West next to the railroad tracks with one window on the back of the building. It was on the second floor at 102 S. Harbor City Blvd. Melbourne, Florida. This small, one room space was part of Tim’s corporate Offices, the Network Group. With lots of frustration, it took me almost two weeks to get our first telephone to work with Bell South. One Monday morning 11 AM; was my first contact with the Bell South top management in Miami, Florida. After giving him my opinion of their services to this brand new fledgling company, Legacy, by 1 PM had its first working telephone number: 321 951-8815. It does my heart good to see that even though Legacy has moved three times in Melbourne Florida since those days, and have kept the same phone number. For this phone # I promised a bottle of vine to the phone lady at Bellsouth that I never delivered, I could not get back in touch with her.


                                                              Art rendering  

   Victory signing. A triumphant moment for research into the benefits of DCV’s Breakthrough product occurred in 1994. We won a prestigious agreement for extensive testing of the active ingredient in BioChoice®. Örn Adalsteinsson, seated, with the Department of the Army, signed by Colonel David M. Penetar.

For DCV, Inc., this was a breakthrough in health science for the 21TH Century.






Now DCV, Inc. needed a marketing arm to be built from the ground up. There was no funding at this time yet. Among other things, I decided not to wait for the funding and went to work on the necessary research and corporate documents, such as policies and procedures, compensation plan, corporate plan and structure. Including traveling six hours a week from St. Augustine to Melbourne, Florida, totally at my own expense. There was no company named

Legacy, or the product named BioChoice®, no office, and there was no paycheck, just a living room floor working until early AM. Giving up a business SKY-WAY-HOME-THEATR Inc. and selling Kirby’s Vacuum Cleaners, over two years of income this translates into well over $100,000 It never occurred to me, that one did not have to pay for a vision, dream, and than success. 


About DCV, Inc., and the Parent Company

 DuPont / ConAgra Visions (D.C.V.)


   DuPont and ConAgra formed D.C.V. as a group venture. Since August 1997, it became a new company called simply DCV Inc. DCV Inc. has not been affiliated with either DuPont or ConAgra. Neither DuPont nor ConAgra is the source or sponsor of any products of DCV Inc. or Legacy for Life LLC. DCV Inc. is comprised of leading scientists in the fields of immunology, rheumatology, chemical engineering, microbiology, DNA technology, physics and more in research, development and manufacturing facilities in the United States, Mexico, Canada, and Europe. DCV produces high-quality natural ingredients with almost $200 million in annual sales and holds more than 400 worldwide patents pending or issued. They are the largest manufacturer of chitosan in the world, the largest U.S. producer of choline chloride, an essential B vitamin, and the largest North American producer of oat and dietary fiber. The principal and top DCV management, Dr. Earnest W. Porta, Ph.D., President and CEO. In the early days agreed with our thinking and decided to market this new immune technology via network marketing and is responsible in pioneering the combination of the corporate management with network marketing. This makes Legacy for Life a unique worldwide marketing operation.


A Short Overview of ConAgra


   Omaha-based ConAgra is an international diversified food company with a mix of business ranging from supplying farmers with feed and fertilizers to producing commodities like grain and beef. It also sells groceries brands such as Wesson (oil), Armor (meats and frozen foods), and County Line (cheeses). ConAgra is the nation’s #2 food company after Phillip Morris and has 21 brands, including its 1 billion-flagship brand, “Healthy Choice,” from which I got the idea for our Legacy product, “BioChoice.” ConAgra, a Legacy former Parent Company along with DuPont. I have been eating DAVID Pumpkin Seeds for a long time, good source of protein and more; just recently I discovered that DAVID Pumpkin Seeds are also owned by ConAgra. 





Legacy’s Formative Years, Day One


1992-94. Tad and June Galin and the Humble Beginnings of Legacy for Life. At the Wild Flower Restaurant, Meeting a friend, Ted Elias, at Happy Hour Time on Trans Coastal Waterway Boca Raton, Florida. Subject, New Biotechnology; Legacy was born. 1994 Starting with no funding by DCV, (DuPont ConAgra Visions) for the next some two years with my wife June We financed our own way. With the support of our two sons, Tad Jr., Joe and my sister Anne, We built Legacy USA Inc., known today as Legacy for Life. Spring 1997 funding by DCV began. We opened up and started Legacy’s first office at 102 S. Harbor City Blvd., Melbourne, Florida. Building # 1 and building # 2 pictures below. Building # 1. 300 sq. ft. office on the second floor back of the building with two little windows and no phone. It is here that I named Legacy USA, Inc. Legacy USA was born! We had two employees and growing. February 1998 we moved into 1500 sq. ft., next door # 2. a small freestanding building to the right, at 104 S. Harbor City Blvd. Here I named BIOCHOICE™, (known today as I 26® Complete Support was born here.) We had six employees. July 23, 1998. Qualification Documents for Legacy USA, Inc. were filed in Tallahassee, Florida. August 1998 we moved into 5,000 sq. ft. Building at 1333 Gateway Dr. Here we had sixteen employees. 2003 we moved into 21,000 sq ft. Building page 62. In July, 2003 Legacy for Life Inc., as it is known today, was still in its infancy. For me personally, at least for once in my life, I was right for founding and naming Legacy. I am getting excited building my “Family Legacy Estate”. In a strange way, this is just a beginning. I feel the spirit of pioneering all over again. Since my goals for my family are high, I don’t have much choice and I love every minute of it. Helping people to dream and to see the vision. Those that catch the true spirit of Legacy and become pioneers for the next several years will become well to do. For some may not see the humble beginnings of Legacy for Life and just how far Legacy has come. It makes June and me very proud and humble. LEGACY FOR LIFE TODAY From 300 sq. ft. office to 21,000 sq. ft. World Headquarters Melbourne, Florida. Francis Marino President, Connie Calvert CEO and Owner, Randy Calvert Chairman of the Board and Owner, Hellen Greenblatt Chief Scientist. With top Leaders In the field, Rich Morgan, Presidential Director, Will Therrien National Marketing Director. Today Legacy is shipping to 35 countries. April 1, 2007 Legacy was totally restructured for the 21st Century. The Legacy future is looking very promising. With today’s leadership and great corporate support in place and one of a kind exclusive product in the world, a multi billion dollar worldwide operation is in the making. Legacy for Life, i 26® Trim Berry Extreme, and Balance for Life has created for us a Healthy Life Style and Prosperity with Purpose "Truly a Family's Legacy.”Tad and June Galin Sr. Presidential Director.

Legacy For Life:


A Billion Dollar Company in our lifetime, Legacy for Life.

 Happy 15th Anniversary July 23-1998-July 23-2009




Historically: Legacy for Life

Was a Marketing Arm of (D.C.V. Inc.)

DuPont /ConAgra Visions

*Since August 1997, Legacy for Life has not been affiliated with either DuPont or ConAgra.  Neither DuPont nor ConAgra is the source or sponsor of any products of   Legacy for Life.



The Humble Beginnings of Legacy started here at # 1. And # 2. Above. Spring of 1998 My Legacy first office at 102 S. Harbor City Blvd. Melbourne, Florida. 300 sq. ft. on the second floor on the back of the building on this side of the tracks with two little windows, with a picnic table 2 picnic folding chairs and no phone it is here that I named Legacy USA, Inc. Legacy was born. We had 2 employees and growing. February 1998 we moved next door into 1500 sq. ft. a small freestanding building to the right #2, at 104 S. Harbor City Blvd.  BioChoice (known today as I 26™ Complete Support was born here.) we had 6 employees. August 1998 we moved into 5,000 sq. ft. Building at 1333 Gateway Dr. Here we had 16 employees. 2003 we moved into 21,000 sq ft. Building Legacy’s World Headquarters, Melbourne Florida. The Legacy Future into The 21st Century looking very promising. July 23, 1998.Qualification Documents for Legacy USA, Inc. were filed with the State of Florida, Tallahassee. In July, 2003 Legacy for Life Inc., as it is known today, was still in its infancy. For me personally, at least for once in my life, I was right for founding and naming Legacy. I am getting excited building my “Family Legacy Estate”. In a strange way, this is just a beginning. I feel the spirit of pioneering all over again. Since my goals for my family are high, I don’t have much choice and I love every minute of it. Helping people to dream and to see the vision. Those that catch the true spirit of Legacy and become pioneers for the next several years will become well to do. For some may not see or understand the humble beginnings of Legacy for Life and just how far Legacy has come. It makes June and me very proud. With today’s great corporate leadership and capable management in place, with top leaders in the field and one of a kind exclusive product in the world, a multi billion dollar worldwide operation is in the making. For June and me, it is just a matter of time. Legacy for Life, i 26ä and Trim Berry Extreme creates a Healthy Life Style and Prosperity with Purpose.








16 years later. TIME: 04/10/1994 01:47 NAME: TAD GALIN LEGACY DCV. I recently discovered this document; these were the actual beginnings working out of our home in St. Augustine, Florida. Unofficially, I named Legacy DCV as the document states above; this was before I named Legacy USA Inc.








Legacy and the Price


The price for the American Dream and Vision! As most expect only to receive. Even with a lack of understanding for the most part of it all, almost by instinct, I knew that this technology may be the best since the creation of the air itself. We know that one can not live with out these two conditions -- Air and Immune System. Yet, so many know so little; it is frightening. When it comes to writing a history, only few souls will stand up and be counted. I received much from this nation of ours. To me it is very important to be a part of these historic years. However without action, all else will not matter. Today sometimes, a prospective distributor will say, “$499.00 for a business system and an exclusive distributorship worldwide is a lot of money.” Is it really? Let’s put things in perspective. Just to start a small and simple boutique store would cost you about $25,000 dollars with a rent of over $1,000 dollars a month. All this, then wait until someone comes in to buy a padded toilet seat. How many toilet seats do you have to sell just to pay the rent? And on top of it all, 90% of all new businesses go out of business the first year. Legacy’s support to us in the field is enormous, a multi million dollar operation shipping worldwide to all of our customers and distributors; every one gets paid on time. Over 100 worldwide patents, the patent estate alone is valued at well over $35 million dollars. For $499.00 dollars you’re in business worldwide. With some products and a free Web Site, it’s a turnkey operation. Considering my monthly downline sales volume is well over $50,000 per month working out of my dining room without even one employee, this is enough to make one humble. How is one to put a dream and a vision into someone that has no pioneering spirit, is not coach able or teachable, or has no confidence in their own ability? With no vision, all will parish. One needs the ability to see the value of the unseen fruits of labor to come. The key is! “Vision, plus Hard Work and Perseverance. Later I began to receive $800.00 a month to cover some of the expenses. This helped a lot, as by this time we had depleted most of our personal finances to the tone of well over $100,000. Then in 1997, Ted Elias asked me to join him as partner/founder and vice-president of marketing to set up the physical infrastructure of this fledgling marketing arm. We, took the leap of faith, and did it. June and I uprooted ourselves once again from St. Augustine, Florida and moved to Melbourne, Florida, the world headquarters-to-be for this start up Marketing Arm of DCV and its operations worldwide.

















Sandra B. Mortham

Secretary of State

July 23, 1998


Qualification documents-for LEGACY USA, -INC. were-filed on July 23, 1998
- assigned document number F98000004204. Please refer to this number
whenever corresponding with this office.

Your corporation is now qualified and authorized to transact business in Florida
as of the file date

A corporation annual report will be due this office between January 1 and May 1
of the year following the calendar year of the file date. A Federal Employer
Identification (FEI) number will be required before this report can be filed. If you
do not already have an FEI number, please apply NOW with the Internal
Revenue by calling 1-800-829-3676 and requesting form SS-4.

Please be aware if the corporate address changes, it is the responsibility of the
corporation to notify this office.

Should you have any questions regarding this matter, please telephone (850)
487-6091, the Foreign Qualification Tax Lien Section.


Michael Mays
Document Specialist
Division of Corporations                                     Letter Number: 998A00039024





Division of Corporations - P.O. BOX 6327 Tallahassee, Florida 32314



Formative beginnings; it can not get any more Formative.

Starting in 1994 the beginning of what is known today as

Legacy for Life.











In our second Legacy home at 104 S. Harbor Blvd. 1500 sq. ft.

 Free standing building the three flavors was finalized.

Chocolate, Vanilla, and Strawberry.


1998 there were several of us, (Brenda Ploetz, Bill Osborne, Ted Elias, Jack Davis, Dotty Kirkley, June and I tasting and deciding the flavors of today’s BioChoiceâ three flavors.) Out of literally hundreds of different flavors that are available and many phone survey calls we finally chose the most popular three flavors, Chocolate, Vanilla and Strawberry. For several weeks, our DCV’S Research and Development Laboratories in Wilmington, DE. would send us the three chosen flavors. After tasting and discussions at the office during the day, June and I would bring some of these samples home and the tasting would continue, with some fun of course. We sent the results to DCV on a weekly basis, plus numerous phone conversations only wishing, that this tasting would continue indefinitely. Now at times when having a BioChoiceâ drink, inevitably, June and I go back to those precious tasting and formative years.

For me, this was the opportunity to build a Legacy for my Family and for countless other Families. As tough as it was, it was one of my most exciting times; it was like a higher calling. I had this blind faith feeling that this is going to be a dream come true for those with pioneering spirit to build their own Family Legacy throughout the World.

























We took a two bedroom apartment at the Riviera Terrace in Palm Bay, Florida. It was on a small lake. We watched small baby Sand Hill Cranes hatch every year and their growth to adulthood. We fed them daily with special bird seeds even though it was against the law. We did not know it then. It was an exciting several years to watch them and Legacy grow.


Our first two baby Sand Hill Crain’s two weeks old

The two chicks in the middle to the left side-by-side 

Now about five months old with their parents.



















Stalin had confiscated our Family’s “Legacy”.


All of my life I dreamed and wanted to build a “Legacy” for my family. In order for me to build anything, first I had to get here into this great country of ours. For me the name Legacy was easy to come up with. However, I had two challenges with it. One, when I submitted the name Legacy to Ted he did not go for it. (Because Ted did name his under contract Company with DCV Legacy Associates.) He said that he wants to submit it to a company in Ft. Lauderdale with several other names. I had a strange feeling if they chose Legacy; Ted would have liked it to be his idea. Legacy was chosen. Ted never said a word about it. My second challenge was a name search in Tallahassee. I was told that the name Legacy was taken by a fence company.



   My second choice was “Legacy International, this was also taken on 12/19/97 by Al and Vera Schreiner out of Oconomowoc, WI. My third choice was, Legacy of America, then a shorter version. Hence, it became Legacy USA, Inc. Having named the company, “Legacy U.S.A. Inc,” and named the product, “BioChoice®”, Life seemed to be good. The name “BioChoiceâ” came to me from studying ConAgra’s Annual Report Magazine in which on the front cover was their trademark, HEALTHY CHOICE® The name BioChoiceâ was a natural. The word “Bio” tells a lot with just three letters as in Biotechnology or Biology. Hence, “BioChoice®” was born. At the very beginning of this fledgling company, along with the name of “Legacy USA, Inc.,” Egcel came to me as a name for the product, or as a company name. During those long nights of reading and studying about the white and red human blood cells and their function as a part of the human immune system. Since, at some of the readings, it is often stated that the egg is the seed of life. “Egcel™” also became my choice.













                      Here came the idea-“BioCoice®”

   In the earlier stages of Legacy evolvement, I had produced three complete presentation books of about eighteen pages each on the corporate infrastructure, with the front cover Egcel Inc. In 1997 I printed fourteen sets three booklets to a set, a total of forty-two individual presentation books. In 1998 we took them for our meeting with fourteen top DCV Management Team members in Wilmington, DE. Dr. Hellen Greenblatt was also at this fateful meeting. This presentation to DCV and this fourteen top management team was a crucial one. Working on this presentation at my home in St. Augustine, Florida without pay, I believe it saved Legacy, and helped us to win. That day we found out that there was a competitor to contend with. His name was David Lisonbee. As I understand David Lisonbee was C.E.O. with 4 Life in Provo, Utah. As I found out later, David had a friend on the Board of Directors. Therefore DCV had also considered David as well as us to set up this new marketing arm. Undoubtedly the headquarters would not have been in Melbourne, Florida if David Lisonbee from Provo, Utah had won this Marketing Arm, David was not prepared. We were! The name “Egcel” was later directed more towards the product. Today, it is appearing on our products as “Egcel™” with my blessings. I have asked DCV for return of all or a part of those 42 booklets for Legacy’s Library. To date, I’ve yet to receive one. Fortunately again to save the day, I do have a master copy.



























“The Legacy” of Legacy for Life

The Greatest Story Ever Told in Network Marketing,

 History in the Making.


1930 the Life with Stalin,

1941 the life with Hitler. 1994 the life with Legacy U.S.A. Inc.


On the other side of the world, born in a small Village of Yur’yevka, near Kyiv, (Kiev) Ukraine, then Soviet Union. 1941-42 during German advancing Forces to Stalingrad. Conscripted under the gun by the Germans from a small Village of Petropavlovka southern Ukraine as Nazi laborers with my Mother Nina, at the age of eleven. Today, April 25, 2008 with my Home based Legacy Business and distributors worldwide have given me the financial freedom and enabled me to write and finish my story that has been in writing for over forty years, even though most of it was on the run. In the early 1990’s knowing my limits, I knew that I had to be highly resourceful in gathering information to stay ahead. I got acquainted with then DCV Corporate Scientist We shared our life stories and became friends. I will highlight three areas that helped me with my decision to found Legacy USA Inc. for two and one half years without pay at a cost of over $100,000 of our own money. One, just how powerful the i26® is. If and when an epidemic in the U.S. or worldwide should occur i26® will become a household word worldwide. Two, why DCV could not begin funding this marketing arm, this was because, of buyout negotiation with DuPont to form a Company known as D.C.V. (DuPont ConAgra Visions) I named unofficially Legacy DCV of which was this marketing arm that I later named Legacy U.S.A. Inc. Now Legacy for Life. As history tells us, one of DuPont’s senior scientists discovered that since the end of World War II as we began to expand our industrial base with nuclear technology rapidly expanding U.S. also introduced chemicals into our environment at an alarming rate and is continuing to this day. At DuPont’s board meeting he explained to the board members, “Because of all of the following factors, I have discovered that, our human immune system is being degraded on constant bases from minute to minute and year after year. There is no escape. We cannot go behind the Rocky Mountains and live happily ever after.














“In Volume 1; November 1 in the publication of MEDIAVISION 2005 “PREVENTION”


It States, “In 1989, the U.S. produced its one millionth man-made chemical. While many of these chemicals have made our lives more enjoyable, most are finding their way into our bodies and reeking havoc. Of the 70,000 chemicals being used commercially in the U.S. the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) considers 65,000 of them to be potentially-if not definitely hazardous to your health. And that’s not all. More than 6,000 new chemicals are being tested in the U.S. every week. What is really frightening is that these chemicals aren’t just sitting around in warehouses. According to the Environmental Defense Group (EDG) more than 4 billion pounds of toxic chemicals are released into the environment each year, 72 million pounds of which are known carcinogens. So where are these cancer-causing agents ending up? In the air you breathe, the water you drink and in the food you eat. They are everywhere.”  One of the DCV board members said, to the senior scientist conducting this meeting, “this is very frightening. “What can we do?” The happy ending to this story is that they gave him 20 years and $50,000,000 for R&D. Hence. The break through came in 1994 It is known today as i 26® with antibodies and other Co Factors. They are live antibodies derived from chicken egg as egg powder. It was about this time, that I was asked to help set up a Marketing Arm and infrastructure for the world headquarters in Melbourne, Florida. My wife, June, and I moved to Melbourne from St. Augustine, Fl. In spring of 1997 and shortly thereafter, I named the Company Legacy USA, Inc. which is known today throughout the world as Legacy for Life.




As if by fate, wouldn’t you know, as I am writing this sentence it is Tuesday 10 p.m. on Independence Day, the 4th of July 2000. The Boston Pops Orchestra is playing “America the Beautiful,” “The Star Spangled Banner,” and the other great traditional pieces that are dear to all of us. In watching the Tall Ships in New York Harbor, I am again reminded more deeply of my arrival to this beautiful city and country in January 1953. I knew that I was becoming an American when I first laid my eyes on the Statue of Liberty on page 246.




Saturday 9:15 PM Independence Day, the 4th of July 2009 I AM preparing The Legacy for Life Story about 59 pages to President Francis Marino Legacy for Life and Rich Morgan Diamond Director, Will Therrien National Marketing Director Hellen Greenblatt Chief Scientist Legacy for Life. Happy 4th of July 2009 to all Legacies’ Family and God Bless America.








Spring of 1998, our first official Legacy USA meeting I conducted for 26 guests that I personally invited they came from allover U.S.A. They left with $500.00 a Directors Kit, Legacy was born at 104 Harbor City Blvd., Melbourne, Florida.






Inside of this 5 X 10 utility room in the above meeting room to the right is a closet with folding doors and one shelf for BioCoice® with lock and key. It was exciding to have a closet stocked (with BioChoiceâ even though at the very beginning this one shelf was half full, like 20 boxes, =20 months supply for one person. Or one months supply for 20 people.)

Proudly we were ready for the worldwide operations.










Starting a New Company


   Here for several months, among other things, I was looking and negotiating for a three months free lease with the Evans Butler Realty, Inc. at 1335 Gateway Drive, Melbourne, Florida at the Gateway Business Center. That would be the equivalent cost of new carpeting and interior painting at the cost of $15,300.  Well, after some sleepless nights, thinking on what to say or do, they blinked first. I got it. Included in this package was a $3,000 dollar beautiful solid slate and walnut wood conference table. I got it for $300.00 and   it took four men to set it up. I just painted the interior and steam cleaned the carpet at the cost of $800.00. As I indicated earlier, I had owned a carpet store and it was easy to figure precisely the cost before we would move in and it worked! At that time, for us, $15,300 was a bunch of money. Including in this basement bargain, a permission to use a picture from their literature (below). The picture is the entrance to Legacy’s World Headquarters with the U.S.A. Flag Flying High. Thanks to my wife, June, during all of these trying years, who continued working as a Registered Nurse helping me to build our Legacy. I sometimes thought that June had more faith in me than I did and thank God for that





 1998-2001 Legacy USA Inc. entrance to the World Headquarters,

1333 Gateway Drive, Suite 2005 Melbourne, Florida”.





















    The ribbon cutting ceremony at our new and third Legacy’s 5,100 sq. ft headquarters. Here at 1335 Gateway Drive, Suite 2005 Melbourne, Florida we had 16 employees. First row from left to right: June and Tad Galin, Orn Adalsteinsson, Neal Kane, Ted Elias, Brenda Ploetz second row back of Ted Elias. Dr. Earnest W. Porta. Rick Stejskal is in the second row between Orn and me.



This is our second worldwide warehouse 10x15 totals 150 sq. ft.

Bob Rodes our Computer Guru is also Legacy’s warehouse person.

Bob is on his lunch break.







   Over the ensuing months and years, it was my job to assist and help in all areas on setting up the corporate infrastructure in Melbourne, Florida as well as the field operations and recruiting. Working non-stop and overcoming hundreds of political and two or three logistical challenges as a Vice President of Sales and Marketing, Now salaried at $54,000, we built a solid base for marketing and distributing BioChoice® throughout the country. We’re now poised to go around the globe. Legacy for Life, Inc., as it is known today, has come a long way. In June 2001 Immune 26 earned its place in the






Listed in the PDR Since 2001


Even when the going was not easy it was easy to keep on going. After all, it’s not every day that you get the chance to market a Human Immune Support System that will revolutionize the way people think of healthcare and health maintenance. It gave me a remarkable sense of pride to help bring something like this to the world. As far as I was concerned, Legacy couldn’t help but grow.

At least once in my life I was right.

















“The reason a lot of people do not recognize opportunity is because

It goes around looking like hard work.”

Thomas Alva Edison


At the beginnings, the funding from DCV almost never came


   1994-1997 The real story of legacy’s beginnings is the fact that DCV was negotiating with DuPont for the purchase of DCV and that, took almost forever. With this knowledge of it. Not wanting to loose any time, in 1995 I decided to continue the work on all of the Legacy’s documents without pay for over two years. I understood that this was not DCV’s fault they were simply not in the  position to finance Legacy’s operations. We submitted to DCV between $800,000 and $1,200,000 for the infrastructure and the Legacy launch. We received $28,000 down payment for the purchase of computers, for the total of $72,000. The server work was jobbed out to our General Manager of Legacy USA Inc. After several phone conversations with the president of DCV Dr. Earnest W. Porta and personal meetings in my office, he later resigned due to the conflict of interest running his own Computer Company, and Legacy at the same time. Earnest Porta accepted his resignation. From the very beginning, financially, Legacy was struggling.


Finally at Home


   As 1998 drew to a close, I finally began to understand, inside, that I had done it. Years of hard work, always looking for the edge, uprooting my life and my family’s lives time and time again, and suffering some very painful times were now going to pay off. The little kid from Petropavlovka was making good and living the American Dream. Legacy U.S.A., Inc., was beginning to spread its roots across the country and BioChoice® was beginning to take off. September 8, 1999, we had our first national conference at the Airport Marriott Hotel in Orlando, Florida. We had some 270 excited top network marketing distributors, of which I personally sponsored 20, which in turn sponsored 58 for the total of 78 men and women as Directors before this conference, who had been in those positions or higher, with their previous companies. This grew to over six hundred in a short time. It was a promotional program that I instituted called Lateral Transfer. The entire conference was successful and videotaped.














Computer Glitches


   1998 when the corporate politics, along with the computer glitches began to emerge. In time, this incredible excitement began to subside. The toll free number for Distributor Services was not working with regularity. Checks to distributors were not sent out on time, the most critical item in Network Marketing. This, more than anything else, was undermining Legacy’s growth even though I hired some of these individuals myself, of whom some of them were extremely good employees, One of the first computer gurus that I hired was David Lumpkin. Since David was considering another job in Orlando at Disney World, I did not want to lose him. I hired David 15 days prematurely, because we did not have the finances yet. But David agreed and understood my situation at that time. He also became one of the most trusted Legacy employees. Later on, David brought on board another great worker, also a computer guru, Bob Rhodes. However, the very first computer operations person that I hired was Jack. I had known Jack from earlier days when I was a Regional Director with (N.T.C.) National Telephone Communications, Irvine CA which was a network marketing operation. Again, I never worked with Jack in a corporate environment. I was in the field and knew very little about Jack. Jack’s knowledge and capabilities were what Legacy needed. I discussed this with Ted Elias. I told Ted that I would like to hire Jack on one condition. As soon as there is a problem he would be terminated. Ted agreed. Ted also stated to me that, if I gave any corporate employee living quarters, Legacy would pay for it. For economical reasons we took Jack in to live with us in our small 2 bedroom apartment.  We gave Jack our second bedroom, gave up our privacy, this room and board lasted for the entire year. We never received a dime. Well, we never asked for anything. June and I were building a Legacy, so, whatever it takes to do it. By now we were not surprised at Ted’s lack of integrity. At the very beginning, when Ted asked us to move to Melbourne Florida, he said that Legacy would pay the moving expense. This never happened. Then Jack brought his wife, from California and got settled on his own. Of course knowing all of this, we would do it all over again. Just to think, that with June’s help I was instrumental in starting a multi billion dollar operation worldwide from a 300 sq ft. office. Jack was very capable and perhaps very frustrated as we all were with Ted’s indecisiveness changing everything all day long. We had to draft things over and over again. Then, Jack finalized it on the computer over and over again.











April 1998


Two of those people that I hired were Network Marketers and friends of mine, Brenda Ploetz and Bill Osborne. I asked Brenda and Bill to join me in building our Family Legacy and a distributorship worldwide and also work with me corporately. They did. Brenda a single widowed mother with three children Melissa 17, Amanda 12, and Jon 7. Brenda made arrangements for her family without interrupting her children’s school in Sheboygan, Wisconsin.  With our friend, Bill Osborne, and a great pioneering spirit, Brenda and Bill packed their trailer and moved to Melbourne, Florida. Bill and Brenda were salaried at $3,000 a month each. Among all of the other things, we also had some fun. This was Legacy’s humble beginning to say the least. The distribution network was fanning out throughout the country. The product was being hailed and the sales were coming in. It was something to be very proud of. Than, Legacy computer glitches were evidence that, #1, someone is either incompetent, or #2, inadequate computer system, or #3; someone was sabotaging our work with no one to challenge or terminate them. The computer glitches became horrendous. I worked long hours to keep it altogether. For 27 consecutive weeks I was on the phone 12 hrs a day-7 days a week.              

This was the first time I saved Legacy Literally!


Here for the first time I realized that Tad Elias was my biggest challenge and not the employees I was in for the survival of my family’s legacy. One day I was proof reading our main original brochure that I, with others, spent so much time putting together. The misspellings and inconsistencies were horrendous. I showed it to Ted and asked him to go over it.  Apparently it never got to Jack. Or did it? When all of these beautiful booklets arrived from the printer, everyone was excited until I and others started pointing out all of the mistakes, including the misspelling of the word immune with one m in it. $7,500. Dollars was dumped into the garbage bin. As usual no one was reprimanded or fired. It was hard on my nerves and my stomach.  Than the computer glitches began. Legacy’s 800# was not working most of the time. There was no reason or excuse for this operation not to work properly. This is when I spent 27 weeks 7/days 12 hours straight on the phone and for the first time developed bleeding ulcers. THIS WAS A TURNING POINT FOR LEGACY’S SURVIVAL. ALL DISTRIBUTORS HAD TOTAL EXCESS TO ME, EVEN DURING MY FASTING FOR 30 SOLID DAYS. WHILE I WAS IN BED. I finally told Ted, “Either Jack or you have to go or both of you need to go if Legacy is to survive.” As usual he just smiled and said that this operation would not survive without him.  Perhaps this was Jack’s way to get at Ted Elias. This made it difficult for all of us. Sometimes I feel that Ted knew it all along about his inactions and lack of leadership. As a vice president of marketing, I did not have the authority to terminate anyone, yet there were definitely some individuals who had to go, including Ted Elias himself. When discussing some important Company issues that needed action, and when I asked Ted to terminate Jack and his wife who were seriously disrupting the company’s growth, he was totally distracted in a game of chess on his computer. I never got a decent and decisive business response. When I presented him with the status of our company and the failure in supporting our distributors who were leaving us at an alarming rate, he would say, “We’ll just start it all over again.






” I asked him, “By “we” you mean me Tad Galin don’t you?” I knew that I would have to start building Legacy all over again and I did several times. I would say to him, “Ted, there is talk among the employees that we need a better president than you are!” With a sort of conceited halfhearted smile, he would say, “They cannot do it without me.” I would continue, “You are my partner in this and a friend. This is an affront, insulting and degrading to me.”  But his halfhearted smile did not change. He never realized just how serious several employees could, and did, undermine him and practically paralyzed Legacy. One of them was Jack’s wife.  Ted hired her against my better judgment because of conflict of interest. I was right. My understanding is that Ted’s behavior and his attitude towards this business venture was, in general, that he had a permanent income of several hundred thousand dollars per year from Amway and should have stayed in retirement. In reality Ted did not need another income, but I did. There was no option for me. Legacy, USA, had to survive. I liked Ted and thought that I finally found a friend and a partner. Somebody that I can work, trust and build with. I had never worked with Ted in a corporate management environment before. We had only been together at the Amway meetings and functions as they were in those earlier days, and we seemed to get along quite well. I remember Boca Raton and our Amway meetings at Ted’s house in the Sanctuary a real upscale living quarters. Also the gracious hostess Ted’s former wife, Lisa Elias, was as the driving force in their business and still is. She has been a friend of ours for the past twenty some years. In time, however, I began to notice Ted’s true character, his ego and greed. With his soft-spoken demeanor and great personality, one cannot help but like him and in a way I still do. I always will remember and appreciate that Tad Elias chose me as his full partner/founder of Legacy and presented me with this great opportunity. Legacy, USA, was in a struggle for its survival. It was simply devastating for me to have been loyal to him for so many years and not know his true character. But I had to move on in order to keep Legacy alive until Legacy could be handed over to a better management with good business acumen and good leadership both are a must. I had asked Dr. Earnest W. Porta, DCV President, several times to clean Legacy’s house and, thank god, he responded in time. I later came to regret after I resigned that I had not had my hands on a computer; even though; I had some great help on how to use a computer I just never did as I was putting the fires out on the phone all day long. I had to learn the hard way, both the computer skills and to write this book at the same time. In retrospect, there was no choice for me. I had to be on the phone to keep Legacy together and could not do the job that I had to do on the computer. For me, it was incredibly devastating to have such a great product, with such great professional people on board as distributors whom I personally felt responsible for them. These people had faith and trust in me, some seventy years old drove seven hours one way, wrote out a check for $1,500 they stayed for training and after the training they became Directors. With their Business System loaded in their cars they drove home full of dreams.












“Legacy USA Inc. a DCV Marketing Arm”


Legacy & Associates was incorrectly set up.  Owned by

Ted Elias as an Independent Contractor

In which I had my partnership with Ted sharing in Legacy Associates


   Before leaving Legacy without notice or explanation, Ted took away Brenda Ploetz and Bill Osborne downline from my downline and put them into “Legacy & Associates, Co.” without notifying any of us.  With this move, my son Tad Jr. remained in my downline but it was a loss to Bill and Brenda. (Legacy & Associates was a separate company independent of LEGACY USA, INC., designed to build a distributor organization that would produce a residual commission check above and beyond Ted’s salary from DCV as President of Legacy USA Inc. This original setup by Ted Elias was a conflict of interest at its best and it was flawed from the very beginning) I worked and built Legacy Associates distributors and my own distributors at the same time. Also, without my knowledge, I was receiving only a fraction of the profit sharing and when I confronted Ted, his response was inappropriate and unacceptable. All of us, Bill and Brenda included, had such high expectations and worked so hard to make the American Dream happen. This is when Ted’s character, or lack of it, became quite obvious. Bill and Brenda with strong principles did stand their ground at our meetings with Ted Elias. Ted never appreciated their ability. Before Bill and Brenda left Legacy Ted without any decency or regard for another human being or conscience told Bill and Brenda that he would put them back into my downline if they would pay back the salary that they received for the past five months. This would have been about $15,000 dollars. Each. Is this moral?  To ask for five months salaries to be paid back? I felt that it was extremely unethical. Just before Bill and Brenda left for Sheboygan, Wisconsin.  On one beautiful summer day Bill Osborne and I took a break, we set in a car with open windows and Florida ocean breeze we were solving some of our daily challenges. That day Bill had some serious questions and one of those questions really hit home, Bill said, Tad, don’t you think that Ted Elias has early onset of Alzheimer’s. Outwardly I was in denial; however, it shed some light on my relationship with my friend, partner, and the President of Legacy USA Inc.          














For 27 consecutive weeks I was on the phone 12 hrs a day-

7 days a week.

However, it was not without a price. I had for the first time developed a stomach ulcer. Without Ted’s support or backing, I had to make the decision that for me, it was time to leave the corporate world for good. February, 2000 I took my small downline of distributors and started my family “Legacy” home based business. With my now relatively small downline and insufficient income, I came home and began to build it all over again. While my wife, June, returned to work as a Registered Nurse to supplement our income. I had been working on my autobiography, (this story), off and on for nearly forty years. Now it was time to finish the book in the comfort of my home and spend some overdue time with my family. I studied fasting and have fasted many times over the years before to keep my body in a state of optimum health and in top condition. The day that I got home after resigning as Legacy, U.S.A., Inc., V.P.,  giving up $54,000 yearly income, the first thing that I did was to go on a 30 day fast. This time I literally had to fast in order to survive. I did not want to be at the mercy of the doctors and that could have been forever. As you may well know, once the doctors put their hands on you, you more often then not will be in their care for the rest of your life, or at least until you consciously chose to reclaim your health naturally. I highly discourage fasting for anyone who has not studied fasting thoroughly, extensively and/or without the advice and monitoring of a physician. Fasting is a great tool, but your knowledge of fasting is imperative. Even though I had resigned from Legacy corporate, I didn’t leave Legacy – I brought it home. I never really resigned at all. I never felt that I was in Legacy; Legacy was in me and continues to be my destiny.  After a week at home, with the difficulties that the distributors were having now, ordering products, signing up distributors and not receiving their checks on time, they were calling me at my home. Fasting and being on the phone all day and into the night was not conducive to healing my ulcers. My wife, June, now is also my Registered Nurse. Having a private RN 24/7 helped me survive. June was concerned about my health. I was in pain and I had no choice but to agree with her not to take any more calls. But first and foremost, I had to get someone into Legacy corporate office with some Network Marketing experience.















The Beginning of a New Chapter in My Life


   In 1995, Here, I was already involved, working with the Biotechnology Breakthrough by DuPont/ConAgra Vision (DCV). Through the conceptual state of building the infrastructure of what would later in 1998 become to be Legacy USA Inc. At the same time, I continued in my Network Marketing Business setting up locations contractually associated with UPS as parcel post shipping and receiving destination points much like M.B.E./Mail Box, Etc. (which we now know as UPS Stores) It was called “Package America.” Here, I met Ken Demick and Chuck Vrabel. While working setting up these stores all over Florida, having fun and hopes for a great future. As many adventures before, this great opportunity did not work either. I continued working with my D.C.V. Project, and when the funding from DCV became available June and I were asked to move to Melbourne, Florida to partnership/with Ted Elias and founding of-Legacy as a VP of marketing and build a Legacy USA Inc. Infrastructure and Marketing Operations. In the spring of 1997, we did move. June, 1998, I signed up (PROGROUP)-Ken Demick personally and signed Chuck Vrabel for Ken Demick in my Legacy business. We began building our Legacy distributorships. When I resigned in February 1999, I realized that Legacy and I needed some serious help. Sam Johnson had the background. I asked Sam, one of my distributors, if he would go Corporate. Sam had a Photo Studio in Gainesville, Florida and could not move. Chuck Vrabel had some network marketing experience. I asked Chuck if he would consider joining Legacy Corporate to give the DCV management time to find a proper management team for Legacy, USA, Inc. I knew that it would affect my income by taking Chuck out of my downline and putting him into corporate. I had no other choice, Legacy had to survive. When the new management team would be in place, Chuck would return to the field, because that is where the income is substantially greater, and then we would continue building our American dream together again. Chuck agreed. Ted was loosing his grip and authority in making decisions. I recommended Chuck to Dr. Earnest W. Porta, President and CEO of DCV, Inc., our parent company in Wilmington, DE. Chuck was hired as General Manager of Legacy USA Inc. I also suggested to Chuck that he would turn over his Legacy business to his brother, Mark Vrabel, for safekeeping. September 1999 I signed Mark Vrabel up for Chuck as a Legacy distributor for that purpose. Chuck Vrabel was broke. After he was hired, June and I deposited $100.00 into Chuck’s First Union Bank account for him to be able to move from Anna Maria, Florida to Palm Bay, Florida and join us. These days are some times referred to as slim pickings days. Again, for economic reasons, we took Chuck Vrabel in to live with us to give him a chance to get on his feet and establish himself. This lasted for four months DCV paid us a total of $600.00 for his board and room. Of course, we also had fun with Chuck. He is a very likable guy to be with. Chuck became like a brother to us. During his stay with us, we had a meeting every day before Chuck went to Legacy office and again when he got back in the evening. I helped him all that I could and he needed all of it. For these were the beginnings of today’s Legacy’s great operations worldwide.








Later, Chuck Vrabel reinstated Bill and Brenda back but the damage was already done and irreversible.


To; Tad Galin

                                                                             December 15, 1999


From: Chuck Vrabel

General Manager

Legacy U.S.A. Inc.


Dear Tad,


Subject: Brenda Ploetz and Bill Osborne. Your request for an audit of your income that was lost due to the fact that Ted Elias, at that time the President of Legacy U.S.A. Inc. removed without your knowledge or permission Brenda Ploetz and Bill Osborne from your downline and put it under Legacy and Associates which was his personal Company. As per your request, as the General Manager of Legacy U.S.A. Inc. I feel obligated to look into this matter.


First, I think it was the wrong thing for Ted Elias to do this to you especially without your permission and even though you objected after the fact that it was done. Tad Elias did not honor your objections. Therefore, I have reinstated Brenda Ploetz and Bill Osborne back into your down line. After the calculation, I found that during that period $4,037 went into Mr. Ted Elias’s Company, Legacy and Associates. This is the money that you would have received which was rightfully yours.

Legacy U.S.A. Inc.



                                               General Manager Chuck Vrabel


Now, Ted Elias had to work with Chuck Vrabel. Needless to say, it was not easy for either one of them. Especially. Since Chuck now overrides Ted’s decisions via Dr. Ernie Porter. In time, Ted Elias was on his way out. Several months after I resigned as V. P., and went into the field, Ted’s relationship with DCV was terminated along with some other individuals.


Ted Elias passed away in the fall of 2007 Fort Lauderdale Florida














                                     September 1999 Orlando Florida.












Peggy Long Presidential Director


When Peggy Long got downsized in early 1992 from a good corporate job, a six-figure income and all the perks that came along with it she decided she would never work for anyone else again. No one else would ever again own her calendar and paycheck!! Peggy almost lost her car and her home. Her credit cards were maxed out and Peggy owed family and friends a whopping $40,000! Her father, an 87-year-old minister, introduced her to NWM. It was only the big “T” word—TRUST—of her Dad that overcame her skepticism. Determined not to repeat a prior bad network marketing experience, Peggy had her accountant and a lawyer check out this MLM before she started building. Her research confirmed that Legacy was very sound, ethical and debt-free, so she went to work. Peggy started slowly. It took 17 months for her to reach a livable income.


Mark Yarnell, Legacy Presidential Director


February 1999 Mark Yarnell arrived on the scene some six years after I started Legacy and managed to become Master Distributor and part owner of Legacy for Life, quite an achievement. I am actually looking forward to work on the movie script of my Book including Legacy for Life 59 page story beginning on page 23 a total of 59 pages. Mark is going to be in it with Will Therrien National Marketing Director and every body else including myself.   








































July 2000 the New Legacy for Life Inc.

Corporate Management Team


   The new corporate management team was hired and in July, 2000 they assumed their leadership roles. Jeffrey C. Piersall, as a President of Legacy USA Inc., Randy A. Kreiling, CEO, and, John K. Haines as a Senior Vice President. This highly experienced team in marketing and legal arenas, nationally and internationally, could not have been a better combination.


Dr. Hellen Greenblatt, PhD, is considered by many to be the foremost authority on Hyperimmune Egg Technology. Hellen as most of us call her was very helpful to me while I was reading and studying the immune support system in the earlier years when I needed it the most. It was a great addition, to the Management Corporate Team, Dr. Hellen Greenblatt, Executive Vice President.


With Legacy’s growth and changes, came another great addition of Robin A. Cramp as Chief Operating Officer with superb credentials in the national and international marketing arena.


Later on, Josh Field, Director of Marketing, was added with an incredible background.


I consider Legacy for Life Inc. now to be a worldwide marketing giant worth watching as we approach our first billion dollars in sales. With today’s growth of 20% per month, Legacy for Life Inc. is destined to become a billion dollar company just a few short years from now.




Now, the best news yet;


   October 24, 2002 Legacy for Life Management announced that on Monday, October 21, 2002 Legacy for Life management completed the purchase of the controlling ownership interest in Legacy. Arkion will continue to own an interest in Legacy; however, all decisions will now be made at Legacy by individuals who can focus solely on the needs, goals, and objectives of Legacy and its distributors.

Three key assurances;


1. Long-term security of Legacy not being sold to a third party;

2. Legacy for Life controlling the worldwide rights to the patents and technology of hyper immune egg.

3. Capitalization for the continuing high growth rate of Legacy.

   For many years, this is what I and many other entrepreneurs were looking for, a “Home”. It has been fifteen years now since I began setting up Legacy for Life, Inc., infrastructure and the worldwide headquarters here in Melbourne Florida. We are now marketing and building Legacy in Canada and soon will be all over the world selling BioChoice®, marketing and signing up distributors from every walk of life, telling anybody and everybody about this fantastic product and opportunity. Each year and now each month, more and more


people are getting the message about the necessity of taking extra care of their immune system. Legacy is poised to take its message worldwide. Now, as a Legacy Presidential Director I have my family’s future–and our “Legacy for Life”–firmly in my reach. I finally have the time to relax and enjoy it. For me, there could hardly be a better definition of the word “success.” It has been a long road and at times it’s been a dark road. But in the end I have found success and fulfillment, and have built five lifetimes of incredible experiences in doing it.  July, 2000 the new management was in place. July, 2001 Legacy USA Inc. became Legacy for Life Inc. For Legacy this was the fourth move into a 21,000 sq. ft. free standing building that Legacy outgrew it in four weeks. Probably sooner, rather than later, Legacy will have to move into a much larger facility as it becomes a truly worldwide operation.

Historically: Legacy for Life

Is a Marketing Arm of (D.C.V. Inc.)

DuPont /ConAgra Visions



The Humbling Beginnings of Legacy started here at # 1. And # 2. Above. Spring of 1998 Legacy’s first office at 102 S. Harbor City Blvd. Melbourne, Florida. 300 sq. ft. on the second floor on the back of the building on this side of the tracks with two little windows and no phone. It is here that I named Legacy USA, Inc. Legacy was born. We had 2 employees and growing. We moved next door. February 1998 we moved into 1500 sq. ft. a small freestanding building to the right #2, at 104 S. Harbor City Blvd.  BioChoice (known today as I 26™ Complete Support was born here.) we had 6 employees. August 1998 we moved into 5,000 sq. ft. Building at 1333 Gateway Dr. Here we had 16 employees.















From 300 sq. ft. in 1998




AND NOW 2003


To 21,000 sq. ft. Our 4th World Headquarters Melbourne, Florida


With the new Corporate Management in place. Jeff Piersall, President, Dr. Hellen Greenblatt, Vice President, Robin Cramp, Chief Operating Officer, Josh Field, Director of Marketing. Mark Yarnell, Presidential Director, Rich Morgan Presidential Director, Tad Galin Presidential Director, Will Therrien National Marketing Director. In 2003 Total Presidential Directors in the field approximately 100. “Customers and distributors approximately 50,000” in 2003, Legacy is occupying a 64,000 sq. ft. Warehouse with UPS in Memphis Tennessee shipping to 35 countries.  The Legacy future into the 21st Century looks very promising.

 “One Billion Company in Our Lifetime”



Just to put it in perspective what a Legacy for life a home based business is:


From my humble beginnings in 1997 in a 300 sq. ft. rented office in Melbourne Fl with no phone, no name for the company, and no name for the product. I named the Company Legacy U.S.A., the product BioCoice-and EgCel in its pure state i26®. 2003 the above organizational-group and personal yearly volume well over $500,000 was attained from our dining room 9x7- 63 sq. ft. without one employee, without   stocking of the product Immune 26™. Legacy for Life is shipping to 40 countries for us as independent distributors and all of the necessary paper work that goes with it. All of the independent and exclusive distributors are paid on time. It is a humbling experience to say the least.













July 4th, 2003. After 44 years of writing, including the Legacy for Life story, now I have almost finished my book, “Hitler, Stalin and I”. The list of people I have to thank for bringing me to this place is beyond anything I could write. But a few names stand out:, In 1931 Brother Pawel and Cousin Michislaw, who helped my father to escape from Siberian Prison and gave me a chance to know him and learn from him for my first seven years of my life before he was apprehended again by the KGB, (Russian Secret Police) and sent to Siberian Prison for the second time, never to be seen or heard from again. Feltfebel Klüwa, German Commending Officer under the gun conscripted us as Nazi laborers that fathered my sister, Anne, who kept my Mother, Anne and me alive through horrible years; Benny Trembacz, who helped me bring my Mother Nina and Anne to this country while I was serving in U.S. Army in Korea; countless friends I’ve worked for and worked with, supervised and been supervised by; my wife, June, and my sons, Tad, Jr. and Joseph, My Sister Anne who has loved me and supported me every step of the way; and of course, my Mother, Nina. God bless you Mom.



Nina, at her eighty-fifth birthday, my Sister Anne would always have a great party for our Mom. Anne is the best gift that ever happened to Nina and me. Thanks to Anne for being the best companion and friend to our Mother. Anne was always there when I needed to come home. She never moved in thirty-five years. In contrast, in the same period, I moved well over 30 times. In 1990, My 60th Birthday at Disney World, we gave Mom a $1000.00 dollars.







Nina’s Testimonial


   This book is not an infomercial for BioChoice®. (i26®) Although I hope it is! Nevertheless, it is through BioChoice® and Legacy that I got to spend time with my Mother Nina in her autumn months, and I got a chance to repay, in the tiniest of ways, what she did for me and gave to me. Nina was a remarkably healthy person especially considering what she lived through in her younger years. In 1990, at the age of eighty, she survived surgery for uterine cancer. The operation was a success and her health lasted for almost eight more years. But one day late in 1997 I received a call from my sister Anne. She said that Nina might be checking out soon. Old age was settling in on her, and it didn’t look like much could be done. I was on the next plane to Cleveland. By now Nina weighed eighty-nine pounds. (She was 5’ 4” tall.) I arrived on Friday. On Saturday, Anne and I made all the funeral arrangements. Nina’s digestive system was failing her. She was complaining about awful headaches and that the left side of her head was numb. Her left arm was covered with red spots. Anne tried aloe, and anything else that might work, only to find that it made the rash worse. The next day, Sunday, I decided to have Nina drink some BioChoice®. We had tried giving her some before but she was always wary of any new treatment that was not prescribed by a doctor and always refused to take anything. This time Anne and I agreed to be sneaky. If she complained about the taste or anything else we would tell her that it was her favorite Ensure chocolate drinks, except that this one had been improved. Nina drank it without saying anything. Anne and I looked at each other as if we just had some kind of a breakthrough. Monday morning at breakfast—this is only twelve hours later—I noticed that the red spots on her forearm were less pronounced. I was not expecting any changes in such a short time. I kept it quiet not wanting to hope too much. But by Wednesday morning I knew that the red spots on her arm truly were disappearing. That evening Anne mentioned something about it. I asked, “What do you mean?” She said, “You know the spots on Mom’s arm are almost gone.” I wasn’t just wishing. We were delighted! I had to leave my family on Friday. There was work to do and it was important. I also needed more BioChoice® for Nina, so I kissed Annie and Mother Goodbye and left. The first thing I did when I got home was to look for BioChoice®. I found nineteen packets. The trouble was I couldn’t ship until Monday and it would take more than a day to ship it. I didn’t want mother to miss even a day when it was obvious that it was working. I overnighted what I had on Monday, first thing, and then I called DCV and asked if they would ship it overnight directly to Nina and Anne. They did. My heartfelt thanks to DCV! I was shipping the BioChoice® to Ohio from that point on.









After a couple of months, I decided to take some time off and spend some quality time with my mother. I drove up to Parma, Ohio, and for the next twenty-eight days I was with her day and night. I would lie down next to her, play the guitar, and sing one of our favorite Russian songs. This would encourage her to sing with me and she did. Nina had an exceptional voice even at eighty-seven. I was marveling at her voice, and how she still remembered all of the lyrics.



Volga is a Russian river. It is also a song of a mother and her son who was imprisoned in a Russian prison.


   “On a Sunday morning, an aged mother approached the gates of the prison, with a small package of food to be passed on to her son by the guards. I have heard that in all of the prisons, all the prisoners are hungry.” Her son replies from the prison, not having seen his mother or known that she had come, “Take these chains off my hands and my wings; give me the freedom to fly. I would leave my present destiny and would fly to search for another one. I first would visit my mother to see how she is surviving the hard Russian way of life–or is she dead by now in an unmarked grave all grown in with no one to care for it”

To Nina and me, this was a very appropriate song. While singing, Nina and I cried a lot. It was a beautiful time. For the next twenty-eight days I wrote everything down. Nina was taking three BioChoice® formula’s a day. Sometimes I would even give her a fourth one. She started feeling stronger, her headaches subsided, and her quality of life was immensely improved. I decided to tell Mom that she was not drinking Insure, she was drinking BioChoice®. One night as I was lying in bed with my Mother, I told her about the work I was doing with Legacy, how much I believed in BioChoice®, how nice it was to have found something I really believed in. Nina said that she wasn’t surprised because she had heard of similar things when she was a young girl. The old ladies would always tell her about herbs and home remedies and how they would go into the woods and gather them. I said, “You know Mom, DCV is doing the same thing as those old ladies did years ago.”









She looked at me with a little smile on her face and said, “Son, you will see to it that I never run out of this BioChoice® (i26®) won’t you?” Anne and I had gone through a lot over the years to get her to take anything. For her to want to take the BioChoice®–and to get better by taking it–this was a wonderful reward for countless years of hard work and frustration. She always would have it, every day. I went back home to Florida to dive back into our work at Legacy. What better inspiration could I have had? Some months later. On February 23rd, 1998, I called Nina and talked to her on the phone. She was in good spirits and she still did not have any pain. It was 5 p.m. According to my sister, Anne, after the conversation with me, she hung up the phone, and passed away. The final months of her life were passed without suffering and she died at peace. With all Nina’s hardships, and the sacrifices she had made for me, so little meant so much to me. I always will believe that if Nina had BioChoice® a few years earlier, it would have saved her lots of pain and perhaps she would have been with us for a few more years. Yet, just those few months on BioChoice® did so much in improving her health and helping her with the quality of her life. I knew that for me, I had reached my dream. Today my family is on BioChoice® i 26®. For the past ten years not one of us has had even a cold.

Marvelous Technology

These are not regular chickens, nor are these regular eggs. These are “Hyperimmune” or “Immune” eggs laid by hen’s that have been stimulated with whole or parts of inactive microorganisms, or purified antigens. Since the chicken immune does not recognize that these antigens are inactive and harmless it only recognizes the markings and goes to work to put all of the vitamins, minerals, antibodies, and other co factors into the egg so that when the chick hatches it can survive. These chicks as they hatch for generations have been on special organic feed with their temperature constantly monitored from generation to generation. The product-or powder egg can be taken in many ways, water, oat milk, skim milk, juice, on your salad, on empty stomach, or with any meal.


Snake poison as we know of could be deadly, and if we get bitten by a poisonous snake we don’t have much of a chance to survive. Until we are given the same snake venom, and than life is good again. 

Potbelly Stove

Heating oil would be dangerous and deadly to drink for us humans. So, we heat the potbelly stove heat exchanger, then the bad smoke and deadly carbon monoxide goes out the chimney, the clean air circulates and gets heated thus we have hot air, hot water, cooking, hot shower and the life is good.




“Immune Egg”

By stimulating the chicken’s immune system with harmless identities, now, it packs everything it can into the egg so that the chick after it hatches will have a greater chance to survive. Of course, we harvest the eggs and all of the good stuff for our own human consumption. My entire family including me has been on i26® for almost ten years. The health and life has been good to us.  Thousands of other health conscious individuals that we directly and indirectly have introduced and continue to introduce Worldwide.

Text Box:                                         The Physician’s Desk Reference / PDR States:

Text Box:      I 26® Supports and Balances:

·        The Immune System

·        Cardiovascular Function

·        Healthy Cholesterol Levels

·        A Vital Circulatory System

·        A Fully Functional Digestive Tract

·        Auto Immune Responses

·        Flexible & Healthy Joints

·        Energy Levels


i26® takes care of your digestive system, lower track, and your colon; balances your Immune System and PH. As you may know, death begins in colon. If the colon looks like a concrete pipe your body is not getting any nutrients no matter how many vitamins or minerals one is taking. Minerals transport vitamins all over your body, if your colon is not clean and functioning properly the body is not getting any of it. No matter of illness, the autopsy will show that they died of malnutrition even if they weigh 200-300 lbs.

Other co factors;

These little guys travel via our circulatory blood system, monitoring all of the pathogens, or the bad guys. They communicate back to our immune system all of the specific markings of these multiple bad guys, their location and how many of them. Also, the different receptors so that the good antibodies can doc with the bad guys and kill them. Just like the Shuttle docking with the International Space Station, if the docking receptor is not precise, no docking will occur and the bad guy can not be killed. How do these co factors communicate with our immune system? Do they have meetings around a round table or what?





This is a marvelous invention!


Once this information is received, the immune system goes to work. It begins to mobilize all antibodies. It also starts producing new ones from bone marrow. These new born guys are dumb, naked and don’t have a clue who they are. Now they are sent to the thymus, an organ near the heart. I call it, compassionately, the Harvard University. Once they graduate, they know every thing and go to work taking care of those bad guys. I know this first hand as I have been on i26® for well over ten years.

Hyperimmune Eggs 

"Hyperimmune" or "immune" eggs are laid by hens that typically have been stimulated multiple times with whole or parts of inactivated microorganisms, or purified antigens. The preparation may contain different species or strains of organisms (polyvalent “hyperimmune” egg) (1), or pathogens of a single group (monovalent “hyperimmune” egg (2). Stimulating the hens results in eggs that contain immunoglobulins (antibodies) of many classes, with the dominant class being the unique avian IgY* class (3). Upon ingestion, much of the immunoglobulin is apparently still able to bind antigen despite exposure to digestive enzymes (4). Along with the production of antibodies, stimulation of the hens results in Generation of small molecules that appear to have pro-, and anti-inflammatory properties (5).  By up- or down-regulating immunological responses, especially those of an autoimmune or inflammatory nature, these factors appear to help the body initiate defenses against pathogens, mutating cells, and help maintain immune homeostasis. [During inflammatory responses, different categories of effector immune cells communicate with one another via biological mediators (e.g., cytokines, ecosanoids) to modulate inflammatory processes (6). Inflammatory processes appear to the hallmarks of many acute and chronic conditions (7) including atherosclerosis (8-11), diabetes (8-10), and obesity (9-13).] Polyvalent hyperimmune egg appears to have immunoregulatory properties that modulate autoimmune (14, 15), joint (14, 15), cardiovascular (16), and gastrointestinal (17, 18) function.  Hyperimmune egg appears to “balance” immunologic responses, rather than “boost” or unnecessarily “enhance” these processes. Additionally, major quality of life changes are experienced by individuals with HIV/AIDS (19, unpublished).  Of note also are the dramatic differences seen in athletic performance, endurance, recovery and strength in individuals consuming hyperimmune egg (20, 21).  [These results may be due to down-regulation of proinflammatory cytokines, which have been shown to result in fatigue (22)]. Interestingly, the total antibody content of eggs from hyperimmunized hens as measured by ELISA is essentially identical to the total amount of antibody found in conventional table eggs. However, individual titres to selected antigens may vary between the two types of eggs [unpublished studies].   Although both table eggs and "hyperimmune" eggs contain identical immunoregulatory factors, there is evidence that eggs from "hyperimmunized” chickens contain many-fold greater concentrations of certain specific factors compared to typical eggs [5, unpublished].


Discover Legacy’s New Super Juice



Text Box: •	Greater  Appetite  Control                                               
•	 Increased Energy 
•	& Metabolism    
•	Great Mental Clarity
•	Overall  Improved  Health
•	Super Antioxidants
•	Anti-Aging

·         Hoodia    Gordonii

·         Cha de Burge

·         Goji Berry

·         Green Tea

·         Pomegranate



·       Caralluma     Fimbriata          

·     Açai Berry

·         Noni Berry

·         GAC Seed

·         Wild Blueberry

·         Bilberry

And much-much more!









A Promise Kept

For over twenty nine years

1980 Pompano Beach Florida, Superior Interiors


It was in the year 2000 when I was in the final chapters of this book that I was able to reconnect with a long time friend of 29 years now and keep a promise that I had made to him as a young man twenty nine years ago. In 1980, as an Amway distributor, I offered frequent seminars to recruit new distributors in the Fort Lauderdale area. At one of those meetings a young man of barely twenty arrived, eager and bold. He had picked up and left his home in Massachusetts the previous winter ready to take on the world in the land of fun and sun. I knew right away that there was something special about this guy, that with the right training he could go places. His name was William Therrien. I took Will under my wing, teaching him everything I knew about cold prospecting, selling, closing, recruiting, and surviving rejection, and staying focused on the goal of success. I also taught him what I had learned about life to that point with its ups and downs. Together we pounded the pavement, prospecting for distributors and customers day after day. I came to think of Will as my brother. Will broke up with his girlfriend Linda in 1981 and didn't have any place to go so my wife, June, and I took him in to live with us in our 2 bedroom condo amidst an inventory of Amway products, cases stacked to the ceiling of SA-8 Laundry Detergent, LOC and a mountain of household cleaning products. I promised Will that I would help make him financially independent beyond his wildest dreams. Fortunately, I did not tell him what year that would be, because unfortunately, Amway went through some rough times in the early 1980’s with the FTC and got some bad press, in the end, the company was exonerated but the damage was already done.  Will wasn’t about to give up however, he came across an interesting ad in the news paper for sales people to sell “Laser Photography” since his family had been in photography for decades  and went to check it out. The company was selling framed laser photography prints, lithographs and artwork office to offices and businesses, marking them up to ridiculously inflated prices. He went to work for them long enough to learn the ropes, then ventured out on his own running an ad in the local paper for sales people to canvas offices and business with a higher quality product for less money. The ad read “$100 dollars a day guaranteed for sure!" The phone rang off the hook and the applicants came out of the woodwork. Not only did the sales people make the $100 a day that the ad guaranteed, but some made two and three times that a day. He bought stack of lithographs at wholesale, sold them to his salesmen at a reasonable markup and sent them out into the world to sell them at whatever the market would bear. Within a week he had a dozen salesmen, and he was telling me about this new thing he had hit on. What can I say, I was intrigued. The next day I joined him with my Toyota truck, helping Will haul dozens of lithographs a day to his sales force. Within







30 days we went from holding group interviews in the back of a Sambo's restaurant to 2,200 square feet, a sales force of 62 sales people and Superior Interiors was born.  It seems as though there would be no end to the demand for our products, we were selling them faster then the supplier could frame them so we would take our assemblers to their warehouse to help assemble them so we would have enough products for our sales force. What we didn't anticipate was how dramatic the Ft. Lauderdale off season would be. Sales dropped off as did the sales people down to 30 and we were trying to hold out until the snow birds came back.  It was then that Ben Klassen came into the picture, a man I met in a drug store while prospecting for my Amway business.  He looked at our operation and must have been impressed with these two ambitious young men. Ben was a former Congressman and was successful in his own right. We needed to expand our business to carry us through to the next season and Ben offered us $20,000 with our signature on the promissory note. We later realized his ulterior motives and recognized his radical racial extremist views and that he authored a book called "The White Man’s Bible". He wanted us to hold meetings in our store after hours with our contacts and train them in martial arts especially how to use the numchucks.  We did not sign up as members, so 90 days later he called on the promissory note to be paid. We could not pay it and he knew it and took us to court. Will left town. In 1987, June and I had to file a bankruptcy here in Boca Raton, Florida. Finally, after some few years we met with Will again for a short time while in NSA, a network marketing business selling water filters. Then in the spring of 2000, out of the blue, I got a call from him. He was looking for me and I was looking for him. I told Will about Legacy and that he should stay tuned. We stayed in touch off and on through the next several months. Then in April, 2001, I sent him a tape, “This Tape is banned”, about i26® Hyperimmune Egg. Will happened to pop the tape into his car stereo while on his way to a nutritionist.     

I let Will tell you his story

It was a fortuitous day in April, 2001 in route to the mall to speak to a nutritionist at a health food store in my pursuit of a natural remedy for a health issue that I was suffering from and was of great concern to me. For six months, I was experiencing the symptoms of Crones Disease which is from what I understand incurable. I was having significant amounts of blood in my stool and having intense abdominal pains. This came as a surprise to me, being that I had been on a nutritional plan since I was a child eating a hand full of vitamins, minerals and herbs every day, watching my diet eating my fruits and vegetables, very little beef, no fried food, getting plenty of fiber and still nothing I tried seemed to work. Although I was not at the panic stage I was, however, less petrified of the possible diagnosis than terrified of succumbing to the doctor’s drugs and scalpels than the condition itself. I opted for a natural means and for self-treatment.




Ironically as it was, in my journey to the mall my attention was drawn on the padded envelope on the seat beside me which I had received days earlier from my mentor and respected friend, Tad Galin. Enclosed was a cassette tape, “This Tape Is Banned”. Not knowing its related content, I popped it in the tape deck and to my surprise and pleasure, it was just the natural answer to my problem or so I hoped. On arriving at the mall the tape concluded and so did my venture to the would be nutritionist. I immediately turned around and anxiously returned home and promptly called Tad Galin to get the low down on what seemed to be unprecedented technology that the narrator was speaking of, that it might have a positive effect on my condition. After speaking with Tad, I was confidant but skeptical that it would work for me since nothing else did. It was worth a try but I never anticipated the dramatic results. After just three servings (4.5 grams) of BioChoice® i 26™ the first day and one the next morning, to my astonishment there was no trace of any blood for the first time in months. Surely I thought, this is too good to be true. Surely, it was just coincidence and the symptoms would be back, but to my amazement they never did. To this day, now nine years later, I haven’t experienced a trace of blood and no pain. That was all of the convincing that I needed. I immediately got my mother, Connie Therrien, who had allergies, high blood pressure, arthritis, etc. and some other family members & friends on the formula. They are also experiencing great results I was first a skeptical customer now I am a stanch advocate and Associate for Legacy for Life. In the nine years since, I have seen remarkable and sometimes miraculous results with thousands of people, but the really amazing thing to me is that the results are always different for everyone, depending what their health issues are. I can honestly say without exception that EVERYONE I know that has taken i26 religiously every day gets results, most life changing, and some life saving, as proven by hospital blood tests. What I do isn't selling; I'm merely a messenger, sharing the knowledge of hyperimmune egg technology truly revolutionary science. In the words of one world renowned doctor; "One of the greatest discoveries of modern science". I have literally seen, up close and personal, it got people out off their death bed, after being in ICU with a friend of a friend for three weeks, and after the doctors had given last rights and hours to live. In just 48 hours it did what the hospital couldn't do in three weeks, with all of the millions of dollars of equipment, drugs & experience.  It’s all about touching and changing lives of thousands both physically and financially. The money becomes a bi-product of sharing, because there is no amount of money that can compare to the gratification of such heart touching stories, and everyone has one. This is Heart to Heart marketing, and if you focus on the "Money" you will never get the "Vision.” I share it with almost everyone I come in contact with. It is truly "Prosperity with Purpose" Now I would like to take this opportunity to give Thanks on this Thanksgiving Holiday 2009 to God which created me and my incredible mother who gave me life, love, direction, principles and encouragement to be whatever it is that I want to be. To my beloved Tad and June Galin;. June, my dear sweet friend, who has always been so kind and giving. She is the Rock upon which Tad stands. She is the spine that keeps him straight and she has always been unwavering in her support for ALL of his endeavors.


To Tad my stanch ally. He has always been there for me through the good and the bad. He is not just a great friend and mentor but the big brother I never had. He has taught me so much about life and business over the years with his wisdom, knowledge





and experience. He has picked me up when I was down, encouraged me when I need

encouragement and rattled my cage when he thought I needed shaking. Tad and June aren't just fair weather friends that you can find on any street, but they are "Bad Weather" friends who have been there with me and for me through many storms and have always stayed the course. Always & Forever your friend, Will Therrien.


          Personal carry out service

To the car, SA-8 “What a Country!”        Our Amway Days.   And Now.

1981 Fridays product pick up.


Will Therrien, our long-time friend, a National Marketing Director, soon-to-be Presidential Director with Legacy for Life Glad to have you back in our life Will!


Going Beyond Nutrition with i26® COMPLETE Support




Hellen Greenblatt Chieff  Science Officer        Will Therrien National Marketing Director

       Join Dr. Hellen Greenblatt, Chief Science Officer of Legacy for Life, on Tuesday, January 29, 2008 in a live, Product Information Call as she describes the benefits of using COMPLETE SUPPORT.  National Marketing Director, Will Therrien, will co-host this live call. Dr. Hellen will answer questions and explain how you can free yourself from constant stress, fatigue, morning joint stiffness, and digestive problems with regular use of i26®, and how immune components work together to maintain optimum balance of the body’s immune system.

A Sleeping Bag for the New Year January 6, 2008





Dr. Hellen C. Greenblatt Chief Scientist

Legacy for Life











Dr. Hellen as we call her is a great part of Legacy’s History.






What's the key to success?  Find the right company, put in consistent, persistent effort, and don't quit.
We found that right company to be Legacy for Life.  We've been involved with Legacy for Life for over 10 years, and thanks to Legacy we have enjoyed a lifestyle most only dream about.


We live in our dream home.  We have no boss or daily commute.  We take vacations when and where we want... we've traveled to Mexico, the Bahamas,     Canada and all over the US... some of the most beautiful beaches and vacation spots in the world!   Best of all, we are able to spend quality time with each other and our four kids; we have our health, more energy, and very little stress in our lives!  We are living proof that average people CAN succeed.  It doesn't take super sales abilities, a Ph.D. from Harvard, or other special skills to succeed in our business.  We are just an average Mom and Dad in Northern WI that wanted a better lifestyle for our family.  We did it.  You can too!


Legacy for Life is YOUR chance for a better lifestyle, more time flexibility, and true "Prosperity with Purpose!


Rich & Colleen Morgan Presidential Director

Eau Claire, WI                 Legacy for Life.


Rich and Colleen Morgan for over 10 years have been a part of the Greatest Story ever told in Network Marketing, “Legacy for Life".  






The History of Legacy USA and Legacy for Life Continues.


   October 21st 2002 a controlling interest and ownership was purchased from ARKION RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT by Mr. Randy Calvert and his group of investors. Legacy USA became Legacy for Life LLC No question, hopefully this was a historic and the best move for Legacy, also perhaps the most important, the stability for the distributors out in the field. Perhaps some profit sharing for the field in the future. 


April 5, 2004 10:00 PM at a live conference call it was announced, that the president of Legacy for Life Jeff Piersall was terminated. Unexpected, but not surprised.


Robin Cramp was promoted from Chief Operating Officer to the President of Legacy for Life LLC.


In May 2007 Larry Spark became the new Legacy President replacing Robin Cramp. Robin Cramp was terminated.


 2007 November 19th 9:00 pm New Legacy announcement, Larry Spark has resigned.


February 14, 2008 the owners of Legacy for Life have taken over the management at Legacy Corporate.

Coney Calvert became the Owner & President of Legacy for Life LLC.

Randy Calvert Owner & Chairman of the Board.

































April 6, 2009 Legacy Announced

Francis Marino our new President Legacy for Life



Francis works to create successful, practical strategies for Legacy and is deeply involved in their day-to-day implementation. He combines his extensive experience of building winning organizations with equal experience of running them. Francis began his career by selling products door-to-door and progressed to work with Fortune 500 companies to create successful product advertising and marketing. A graduate of the University of Oklahoma with a degree in Communications, Francis spent his entire adult life connecting people with products and services. Today, Francis has award-winning experience, based on understanding and implementing what inspires customers to buy and what motivates people to sell – business development, consumer products, publishing, franchising, management and sales leadership. These successes are developed with vision, planning, common sense and teamwork, grounded in a practical understanding of what makes business work.













Connie Calvert, Owner & CEO

Legacy for Life Owner and CEO, Connie Calvert, is passionate about providing the best care and support for Legacy’s world-wide family of Distributors.  In her previous banking career, Connie was one of the youngest persons promoted to Senior Vice President.  Under her leadership, Connie’s division consistently won every sales competition.  She credits the training and experience she received in sales and sales management for her ability to effectively organize and manage a corporate staff.  Connie’s mission is to organize and empower the Legacy corporate staff to achieve excellence in each of their roles. Connie says that Legacy is the most fun and rewarding job of her life.  She sees a world of opportunities to improve the Distributor experience and promises to never stop in her quest to make Legacy the perfect opportunity for its Distributors. Connie and her husband, Randy, are committed to helping Legacy Distributors achieve health and financial success with Legacy for Life. Connie, Randy, and their three children, Rachel, Chase and Madison, live in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma.

Randy Calvert, Chairman & Owner

Legacy for Life Chairman and Owner, Randy Calvert, is an entrepreneur who brings an innovative approach to all of his business dealings.  A successful lawyer and CPA with over 10 years of MLM industry experience, Randy possesses a unique skill set with the operational, analytical and legal skills necessary to make good business decisions that positively affect Legacy for Life and its family of Distributors. Randy and his wife, Connie, are committed to helping Legacy Distributors achieve health and financial success through Legacy for Life. Randy practices law and manages a successful law firm.  He and Connie live in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma with their three children, Rachel, Chase and Madison.


Legacy for Life

Our Eleventh Year Anniversary July 23, 2008


At Legacy for Life, we are passionate about enriching people’s lives around the world with an enduring home-based business that creates wealth and improved health.    

About Us:

1992 Tad and June Galin, the Humble Beginnings of Legacy for Life at the Wild Flower Restaurant, meeting a friend, Ted Elias, at Happy Hour Time on Trans Coastal Waterway Boca Raton, Florida. Subject, New Biotechnology; Legacy was born. Founded in 1994. July 23, 1998.Qualification Documents for Legacy, USA, Inc. were filed with the State of Florida. Legacy for Life is a world leader in the health and wellness arena.  Through our rich history which began with two of the nation’s largest and most respected companies, DuPont*, and ConAgra. We have gone Beyond Nutrition to bring you the most natural, cutting-edge nutraceutical supplements available. Today, Legacy for Life is helping hundreds of thousands of people around the world to live a better life.  We proudly distinguish ourselves from every other company because we start with unique, credible and proprietary products that offer value to everyone. The newest addition to our family of quality products is the newest addition to our family of quality products is the i26 COMPANION dog chewables; are a unique extension of the i26 line, specially formulated for dogs!   Specially developed to support your dog beyond nutrition, so don’t wait another minute. Act now. Discover how Legacy for Life is positively changing lives with products and an opportunity unlike any other.

 *Since August, 1997 Legacy for Life has not been affiliated with either DuPont or ConAgra.  Neither DuPont nor ConAgra is the source or sponsor of any products of   Legacy for Life, LLC.























World Headquarters

Oklahoma City, OK
















Back to my story. And World War II Legacy Continues


                                                                                   Galin’s Library


This was the beginning of our second dramatic change in our lives. In1935 when Adolf Hitler broke the military terms set by the Versailles treaty on June 28, 1919. And began rearming Germany.


 Five years later 1940 with hand shake, World War II and Pearl Harbor began here.


“The original agreement, the Berlin-Rome-Tokyo Axis

Vs Allies in World War II, was signed in Berlin in 1940.


From left to right: Von Rintelen (German Minister) Oshima (Japanese Ambassador in Berlin) Ribbentrop (German Foreign Minister) Stahmer (German Ambassador in Tokyo)


This “Troika Axis” of 1940 gave Hitler an encouragement for his dreams to conquer the world.”


 March 12, 1938 Germany invaded Austria. September 1, 1939 Germany invaded Poland, also my country. May 12, 1940 Germany invaded France. July 10, 1940 the battle of Britain begins, first major dogfight over English Channel. June 22 1941 Germany invaded my Country than, the Soviet Union Code named Barbarossa. December 11, 1941 Germany and Italy declared war on the United States of America. December 14, 1941 U.S. Declares War on Germany and Italy.




                                                                                                 Galin’s Library


The beginning of World War II June 22 1941. Hitler’s Invasion of the Soviet Union.


Steengracht of the Foreign Office Secretary of State, shaking hands with

Japan’s Ambassador Oshima in Berlin 1940. On his left is Ribbentrop.


On the surface these meetings rather looking friendly and cordial, the timing for Hitler and Japan must have been just right. Several months later on December 7, 1941 Japan attacked Pearl Harbor.























A Visit with Nina


   It’s a beautiful spring day in May 1990. I am visiting with my mother, Nina, in her two-bedroom apartment in Parma, Ohio, that she shares with her daughter. As we listen to her tell her stories, my sister, Anne, and I remember some of the stories with her. Contrasting sharply the harsh peasant life in a humble chata* in Petropavlovka, Ukraine, sixty years before, her life now could be considered comfortable, middle class, and very American. Deprivation and oppression, fear and loss have all taken their toll. Yet, even now at eighty, Nina is agile, well groomed, and exceptionally keen in her memory. Americanization has not altered the inner fabric of her life, woven from Old-Country traditions, holiday customs, and European meals. Watching Nina move around doing chores and caring for the house, it is not easy to see the hardships that have shaped her life and memories. However, when she is asked to talk of the war years, the tears come easily and pain is clear as she speaks. “I watched as another mother’s son was shot. I thought, ‘It will be a long time before a mother realizes that she is waiting in vain for her son to return.’” She drifts off, the tears welling again. These words are doubly haunting to me, because she is telling us of an event that I also clearly remember myself—the deaths of two young German soldiers as we were looking out through a tiny, ice-encrusted window. I had to defrost a 3"x 3" square with my warm breath to see out of it as we witnessed the executions right in front of us in the back and north of our chata in our neighbor’s yard. Two other young German soldiers fled from our chata and how they crawled on their stomachs for a mile-and-a-half and survived, later came back and told us of their ordeal. My mother and I are indelibly shaped by the war. But my sister, Anne, is even more than that; she is a product of it. Both Anne and I feel that the richness of our family heritage and the powerful experiences of our mother’s life, with all its grinding hardships, are something that should be known and remembered by future generations. Now, not wanting a single thought or phrase to be forgotten, wanting even the slightest nuances to be preserved, we have placed a tape recorder quietly beneath the kitchen table. What the tape recorder hears is Ukrainian, but suffering and joy are the same in any language. My mother speaks reluctantly at first, as she tells of her humble beginnings; but she soon opens up as she warms to her subject…










and even as the tears flow down her cheeks, the tales flow with them. She was born Janina* Piotrowska in Yur’yevka, near Kyiv in Ukraine on May 25, 1910. Her parents, Jon and Victoria Piotrowski, could have hardly imagined the life Nina would live as a result of the Communist expansion, and the following upheaval that World War II would bring about. Her father, in fact, had died two weeks before she was born, and Victoria was left with the burden of caring for a newborn and a four-year-old son, Stefan. Poverty-stricken in 1912, Victoria Piyetrowska gave Nina to her well-to-do sister, Viktusia and Felek Guliszevski, to be adopted when she was two years old. Felek Guliszevski was in charge of an Ekonomia, a large tract of farmland usually covering a great many acres, and owned by a Jewish man named Alperin in Zevotiv, not far from Yuryevka. Felek hired and cared for the farm workers, and oversaw production. For quite a while his position provided security and stability for his family and he in turn provided something of a family for his workers, many of whom had traveled a long way from home to live on the Ekonomia in season. When World War I broke out and his men were being called up to the front lines, Felek hired a dozen tailors to make winter jackets and trousers for each of them before they left. He also gave each of their wives a young calf that would grow up into a milking cow by the time their husbands returned home. He was a good man, leading a good life. But in 1918, following the October Revolution of the year before, the political climate and the mood of the country was changing. Ukraine had come under the sway of the U.S.S.R., and the Ekonomia’s and kulaks (landowners) began to be harassed by the Bolsheviks. Many of the locals in Yuryevka were becoming very upset at the presence of this rich landowner in their midst. The harassment continued as Nina grew up. Josef Stalin became General Secretary of the Soviet Union on April 3, 1922. He unleashed his own godless, ruthless version of the ideology called Communism—an ideology that was ultimately to devastate Russians, Ukrainians, and Poles alike, to name just a few peoples. Even in 1918, there were signs of the coming storm. The Guliszevski’s decided to leave Zevotiv and the Ekonomia to find a little more peace. By the time they were done emptying their home, they had ten full wagonloads of furniture and belongings, all harnessed each to a team of oxen. When the locals saw this, they couldn’t stand it. They turned into a mob, surrounding his wagons, yelling and cursing at him for being a rich kulak, and getting more out of control each minute. They even tried to close in and physically drag Felek out into their pack…









But his former workers heard the commotion and came out, yelling at the mob and telling them of the things that Felek had done for them. In the end, his friends shamed the mob, and they apologized and let the Guliszevski leave with all their belongings. They moved to Osichnia, a small village a few miles away. Nina was eight years old. Her mother, Victoria, stayed in touch with Nina over the years. Struggling to keep food on the table, she did manage to raise her son, Stefan, and even put him through the University of Leningrad in Russia, doing whatever menial tasks were available. Eventually he graduated from the Military Academy, becoming an officer in the Soviet Army. My mother, raised by her aunt and uncle, did not suffer the poverty that was the lot of most Ukrainians at the time. Felek and Viktusia ran in prosperous circles. However, since her real mother was only a “poor peasant,” as she grew up she was not able to share her background with any of her friends or her adoptive family’s associates. This for her was a frustration and made life very difficult in its own way. When Stalin came to power in 1922, life would become even more difficult. Stalin was determined to wipe out the kulaks; he was outraged that anyone would dare to own private land in a communist state. Life for the Guliszevski’s grew worse year after year as they tried to hold onto what they had. When Nina met Josef Przegalinski, my father, she glimpsed an opportunity to begin a new life. She had no idea that he belonged to her church, that the two had both been christened as babies within this large congregation of eighteen communities. She had no idea that he had first noticed her years before she noticed him.

























How Nina Met Josef


   When Nina was fifteen years old, she was asked to be a maid of honor at the wedding of one of Josef’s brothers. In rural Ukraine in those days, communities were small and tight-knit among the few families there. Josef’s family lived back in Yuryevka. The Guliszevski’s had known them for years. It was the winter of 1925. The Guliszevski’s went on a horse-drawn sleigh to the Przegalinski home. This was one of the worst winters ever. The snowdrifts were as high as the house chimneys. To keep warm, the sleigh was outfitted with a large sheepskin cover, called shlaban, the kind that you actually slipped into so it would keep you warm and cozy. Nina’s family stopped the horses close to Josef’s house. Their footsteps crunching through several feet of soft snow they trudged up to the house. There were some people drawing water out of Josef’s well. He shared it with all of the neighbors. Nina was dressed well for the occasion with a karakul (a muff) to keep her hands warm and snow boots that were made by Adam Halicki (pronounced “Halit-ski”), a local shoemaker and Josef’s cousin. Adam actually kept a room at the Guliszevski’s. In return for room and board, he made all of the shoes and boots for the entire family. (Just few years later, same Adam Halicki secured a job for Josef in Novosyiolovka after his escape from Siberia.) In this high snow bank, Josef had gone out earlier and carved out a set of steps to go down into the yard and into the house. He came to the door when he heard them coming down this snow staircase. (This is not a joke. You haven’t seen a winter until you’ve seen a Ukrainian---Russian winter.) A little dog next to him was barking at them. Josef said to the dog, “Go ahead, and bite the girl that will be getting married soon.” (This was a saying in Ukraine in those days: “When the dog bites the girl, she will soon be married.”) Nina’s answer was that one girl was already bitten—Ruzia, who was getting married just then—and it would be a long wait for the second one. Josef was an independent kind of person. He must have sensed right away that Nina was of the same mind. He walked up to her and kissed her hand. He then took a broom and brushed the snow off everybody’s coats and boots as they came into his home. When they walked into the house, Josef’s mother and several of his sisters greeted each other with the traditional “Glory be to Jesus Christ.” Josef’s mother said, “My children, you must be freezing.” Next to the bake oven was a long bench filled with fresh baked bread. Everyone was already hungry from the grueling trip, and the aroma from the bread made their mouths water instantly. She said, “Children, come to the bake oven and warm yourselves up.” (Besides baking all the bread and all the cooking, a Ukrainian oven also radiated heat to warm the entire house.)










They sat down. Josef’s mother asked one of his sisters to bring in a big pot full of kielbasa filled with lard as a preservative. (As my mother described this scene, I could taste and smell that aroma, and all that fresh bread with fresh sausage. I know those smells well. I was raised on Nina’s cooking.) They put the pot into the bake oven until the lard melted, took the kielbasa out, cut it up in pieces and served it with fried eggs, fried sauerkraut, and pigs’ feet. Everybody washed their hands, each got a glass of vodka, and there was a toast. Nina at fifteen years of age, with long black hair past her waist, was a beautiful young lady. Nina sat next to Josef’s mother who raised her glass and said, “Let us drink to health and a good life, and all of the best for you all.” Then, she poured another glass and gave it to Nina, saying, “Let us have good health, and hopefully you will become my daughter-in-law.” [Nina paused in her story and said to me, “I just held my tongue. Jozef was twenty-four years old! I wanted to say, ‘But you don’t have a son that is my age for me.’ But I did not say that.”] They went to the church for the wedding, and then they went to the reception where Josef danced and stayed with Nina until morning. Even with the age difference, Nina knew that she liked Josef. At one point, Josef’s mother and Viktusia were sitting together and Josef’s mother asked her, “Is that your daughter, Nina, sitting in my son’s arms?” She said reluctantly, “That is my daughter.” Josef’s mother said, “Holy Mary, I wish that they could sit like this together for the rest of their lives.” She repeated this two times. She had fallen in love with Nina. And Jozef apparently was well on his way to doing the same. One sunny winter day, Nina had been feeling stressed and decided that a nice walk would be just the thing for her. So she decided to go down to the local bazaar a couple miles down the road. On the road, she saw Josef and some of his friends behind her, heading to the bazaar as well. She tried to increase her pace to out-walk the young men so she could daydream and not be interrupted. But they increased their pace too. When he got close enough, Jozef called ahead to Nina to ask if they could join her. Nina finally said, in effect, “If you can’t beat them, join them.” They all spent the rest of the walk together. Nina decided that she enjoyed the company so she invited Josef to walk back home with her after she was done shopping. He eagerly abandoned his other friends for the chance to be with Nina.















The weather turned into a blizzard. Walking in the snow was very trying, and talking to each other was impossible most of the time. Jozef carried most of the produce. Felek Guliszevski was standing on the patio under the windmill watching them as they were trudging through the deep snow. Jozef kissed Nina’s hand and said goodbye when they got close to her home. At this point Felek called out and asked Josef to come inside. After introductions, Nina’s adoptive mother served hot chayi (tea) and some food, as was the custom*. Josef’s family was considered to be kulaks just like the Guliszevski’s. Thus, socially they were equals and consequently they were favorably predisposed to him. Josef came from a large family; he had two brothers and seven sisters. John and Pawel and seven sisters: Ruziya, Ludviga, Karoliya, Marceniya, Marina, and the twins, Jagusiya, and Victusiya. With several acres of land, the Przegalinski family was considered well off, although their father had died some years earlier. Josef’s mother had raised the ten children by herself. Josef was the eldest son and became the man of the house at an early age. He was well known and respected throughout the surrounding eighteen communities. Moreover, he had Felek’s blessings. It wasn’t always so. One day Nina was in the church when she was about fourteen years old, a year before she had formally met Josef. It was a beautiful morning and Nina was standing outside next to the church with her father when Josef and a friend walked toward them. Jozef took out cigarettes and gave one to his friend. Mr. Guliszevski said, “Aren’t you two cavaliers ashamed to be smoking next to the church?” Josef replied, “What business is it of yours?” The look on my grandfather Felek’s face, according to Nina, indicated that the first meeting hadn’t gone well! Much later, when Jozef was visiting the Guliszevski’s home, he asked Nina, “Was that your father with you at the church that day when I made that crack about smoking?” Nina said, “Yes.” Josef had remembered the incident well. And he had remembered Nina, too. He had noticed her at the church long before the two ever officially met. He was patient in courting her, and his patience won out in the end.











Another Suitor


   But he wasn’t the only man who had fallen in love with Nina, and actually wasn’t Nina’s first love either. Ambrose was a well-educated mechanical engineer who had built a beautiful home next to the Guliszevski’s property. He was kind of the self-appointed repairman for the communities in the area. When the thrashing machine broke, Ambrose saddled up his horse and rode to the nearest city, made a replacement part himself at some workshop, and returned the next day to install it. He would often walk up to Nina while she was attending her orchard and her flower garden and ask her to rest a bit and talk. They would sit on the bench beneath an apple tree, take in the fragrance of its blossoms, and visit for a while. Ambrose was in love with Nina and wanted to marry her and take her to Zolotiye Priskyi, in the far eastern Russia. He had a very respectable job waiting for him there with the government. But Felek Guliszevski was against it. Felek wanted a son-in-law that would work on his fields, or a kulak like himself. One day Nina was at a neighbor’s house celebrating the New Year. Ambrose was also there, delighted that he was celebrating with Nina. The two of them were laughing and having a good time when a young girl knocked on the door and told Nina to go home right away. Ambrose walked Nina home and then he went back by himself to the party Nina walked into her home singing. As Nina walked into the kitchen, she saw Josef sitting with her father. Her mother already had the samovar (an ornamented tea kettle or urn used for special occasions) brewing and told Nina to be quiet. She knew that a decision had been made for her. She greeted Josef as he got up and kissed her hand. Nina stayed home and celebrated the New Year with Josef and her parents that night. “That is how it was, my son.” Nina said to me. As we listened to her, I realized that Stalin had changed my own life before I was even born. Felek Guliszevski, proud Polish landowner, didn’t want his adopted daughter seeing a man who stood for the government that Felek opposed. So Nina ended up marrying the man that was to be my father instead.

One day a couple months later, Nina was sitting with two friends plucking chicken feathers for pillows and perinas (feather bed covers), and quilts. It was about the time for the stock to be fed. Nina looked out the window and saw Josef drive up with horse and sleigh. This was the evening before Popeletz (Lent), and the time for another celebration, called Zakuski (more food and vodka just before Lent—the Ukrainian Mardi Gras). When Jozef showed up, the Guliszevski’s had hardly any vodka in the house. So Felek had to swallow his pride and go to Ambrose—who had the keys to the store—and ask him to get him some vodka. Ambrose was a good man. He came with a supply of vodka, and even visited for a few minutes with Jozef, his rival, and with Nina’s father. Then, he said “goodnight” and left. The celebration went on for the rest of the evening.






Ambrose knew that he had lost, that he was not welcome by Nina’s father so he left for Zolotiye Priskyi without Nina. One day Mother Viktusia handed a letter to Nina. It was from Zolotiye Priskyi, from Ambrose. The letter said, “Janusiu (‘Janina’ or ‘Nina’), when you stand next to your orchard, and your flower garden, remember those apple blossoms, our lovely and blessed evenings together as we sat on that bench beneath the apple tree, and how all too soon you had to leave because we were always watched by your father.” After Nina read the letter she cried, and her mother Viktusia noticed Nina’s teary eyes. She said to her husband, “Felko, why did you separate these two kids? You cannot find a husband for Nina; she has to go her way to where her heart leads her.” But the deed was done, and Ambrose was gone. Jozef, however, was still around, and Felek approved of him. So after Ambrose went away, Josef and Nina started seeing more of each other. She eventually got over Ambrose, and fell deeply in love with Josef. He was, after all, strong, handsome, funny, and independent. But on the day she tells her tale to my sister and me, she keeps coming back to how different her life would have been if other people hadn’t run it. If she had been able to stay with Ambrose, and move with him to Zolotiye Priskyi, life may have been better than the poverty, turmoil, and fear that lay ahead of her. I think to myself, if she had stayed with Ambrose, she may never have reached the United States, where she can now sit and tell her tale in freedom. How much better, really, would her life have been in the end? One day when Nina was not yet nineteen, she was returning from carrying milk to the centrifugal a mile away. The centrifugal separated sour cream from the milk and sold back the sour cream; you would buy what you needed and bring the milk back for the little piglets and calves. When she got close to home, her cousin was standing by the gate all excited, hollering, “Janusiu, come hurry up! You have a guest.” “Who is it?” Nina asked. “Josef Przegalinski. I opened the gate for him.” A suitor coming to pay a visit at a girl’s house and waiting for her to get back from her errands—that was a big deal. Nina acted like she did not believe Josef was there, but as she got close to the door she started singing a song, “Why did you make a trail, when you didn’t mean to walk on it. Why did you start a love affair when you didn’t mean to love?” She hoped he was there, and that her little good-natured jab didn’t go unnoticed. Her mother opened the door and said sternly, “Be quiet. You have a visitor.” Inside, Jozef was indeed there, sitting by the table, dressed in his finest. Nina excused herself to go and change her clothes. Jozef stood up and said, “It doesn’t matter how you’re dressed. I love you anyway.” That was the first time that he ever said that he loved her. Never in four years did he mention that he loved her, or make any sign that he wanted to marry her. Nina changed her clothes quickly and came back out. She sat with Josef on a couch-like wooden storage chest with a closed top, called Sonduk.







Josef and Nina sat there for a long while and talked. Eventually Nina stood up to go get the tea ready. Jozef asked her to wait for a while, saying, “I have something to tell you.” They stood, and Josef said, “Nina, I want to tell you something. I would like to marry you—but I want you to live in my house.” He said, “I want you to be the lady of your house and I want to be the man of my house on my own land. I want to have a quiet life, just us.” This was big. The Guliszevski’s never thought that Nina would marry and move away. They thought that she would marry and live and work on their estate. It was part of why Felek was so fond of Josef. How would Nina react? Nina took no time to think about it. She said right away, “I am ready to marry you.” She then said, “And I am ready to live in your house.” All these years later, Nina didn’t tell Anne and me the reaction on Josef’s face, but it’s not too hard to imagine. When it sank in that she had said yes, Josef asked her to have her mother come in. Nina called to her mother. Mrs. Guliszevski came in, and Josef told her that he wished to marry her daughter and take her to live with him under his roof. “My son,” Viktusia smiled, “You have my blessing. But you have to go to the prison and ask her father for Nina’s hand.” You see, before Josef had asked for Nina’s hand in 1929, Stalin had already taken her father, Felek Guliszevski from her.

Nina’s Marriage Began in Prison


   From the very beginning there were indications of Nina and Josef’s future life under Stalin. By 1929 Stalin’s cruelty and paranoia were beginning to show. Felek Guliszevski was imprisoned for the crime of being a kulak, a private landowner in a Communist state. The prison was in Bardichyev, forty miles from Yuryevka. Josef and Nina went to the prison so that Josef could ask her father for her hand in marriage. The prison guard brought out Felek Guliszevski, and at a distance he blessed Nina and Josef, wishing them a good life with God’s blessings. Did he know, or understand, the life that his adopted daughter was choosing? Or, was it he, Felek, that choose it for her?


1929 - The First Deportation of Jozef


   September 24, 1929 Nina and Jozef were married at the church where he had first laid eyes on her many years before. The reception was held at his house in Yur’yevka. Josef’s family was large; Jozef was the first son, born on October 31, 1902. He was 27 years old and Nina was 18. There was no shortage of cooks. Nina says that the feast they had was wonderful—fresh oven backed bread and everything from borscht to pigs-in-a-blanket to kielbasa, all the veggies you could name, and of course plenty of vodka. It lasted two days. Finally the celebration ended, and Jozef and Nina were beginning their life








Together. She was happy to be in her own house with nobody looking over her shoulder. Life looked really good for a short while. But, no thanks to Stalin, that was going to change soon. Stalin had brought the Communist revolution fully to bear in Ukraine. By 1929, a year after Jozef and Nina were married, Stalin’s rule had become virtually absolute. The Communist Party now demanded that all able-bodied men living in and around Yur’yevka be registered. My father, Jozef, was the first to refuse to register. When the authorities confronted him, Jozef told them that he didn’t need to be registered, because he was from Missouri. He of course, wanted to see first what this so called Communism had to offer; after all they have confiscated his inherited estate, land and property. Wish I had seen their faces! Josef was tough and independent. The only way that Stalin would deal with spirited people like Josef is to liquidate them.  Thus, in time some 500 DESTRUCTIVE PRISONS WERE SET UP. After Jozef, seventy other men refused to register with the local government. But these dissidents soon learned that Bolshevik Communism had no room for nonconformists and dissenters. Their homes and lands were confiscated and turned over to the state to form kolkhoz (collective farms), which would be operated jointly. Those who opposed such a plan—and even those who didn’t seem wholehearted in their acceptance—were placed on a list to be liquidated. Although this liquidation plan was not yet common knowledge, it soon became reality for the Przegalinski’s family. In 1929, the NKVD (the early predecessor of the dreaded KGB) made their arrests predominantly at night. At midnight they came to our home and arrested my father, giving no reason and showing no mercy. He must have known that his arrest was imminent because before they came he had taken all the family’s gold and jewelry and buried it where it would not be detected.






















                         1931                                                                        Drawing by Arthur


                                           1929 My Father Josef’s first deportation to Siberia


My Mother Nina Przegalinska-maiden name- Piotrowska twenty one years old I am six months old. Sixty eight years later I drew this picture in Melbourne, Florida of My Humble Estate in Yur’yevka, near Kyiv, Ukraine, Soviet Union.

   1929 My Fathers Estate was already taken by the Bolsheviks. As my Father Josef stayed in line to join Stalin’s Regime, he told them that he is from Missouri, you took my land, horses, my entire Estate, everything we owned I would have to see what the Bolsheviks are all about and walked away. After My Father walked away, 70 men also walked away. Late that night my father was picked up. This was the first deportation of my Father Josef before I was born. The bloody footprints, usually appearing at midnight, that took my father away and the beginning of the mass deportations to gulags and liquidation of “Kulaks”-- Landowners. Josef was sent immediately to Khabarovsk, in far eastern Siberia. My Mother was 3 mo. pregnant with me. A family Doctor signed a certificate that she was pregnant 6 mo. There for she was not sent to Siberia with my father. This was my first time before my birth that my life was saved. And At the age of 6 Mo. My life was saved the second time and the beginning of how many times my life was saved to make sure that I will write this book. By the time I was 18 years old my life was saved 17 times.





                                                                                                                    Drawing by Author


1929 My Father Josef’s first deportation to Siberia

Winter 1930. My father, Josef Przegalinski,

Cutting trees in the Russian Taiga, Khabarovsk, Siberia.


   I had to do this drawing from my memory of a drawing that was hanging on the wall in our house alongside with a portrait of my Father; it was done by my Fathers Brother Pawel when they joined my Father in this forsaken Russian Labor Camp for the purpose of passing to my Father a forged passport. My Mother and I were picked up by armed German soldiers in 1942.  In a rush under the gun we left these precious pictures hanging there. Then, on January 31st1943, Field Marshal Paulus surrendered to the Russian Forces at Stalingrad. This was the beginning of the end and the beginning of German retreat. We were leaving my Village of Petropavlovka for the first and the last time. As I watched the houses on fire, not knowing that the most precious two pictures were also going up in flames. I have tried and tried to render a picture of my Father. To my mind I could not even get close, but, how could I know if I was close or not. I will have to do it before this book is published. I finally figured it out as to why it is difficult to render a picture of my own Father. After my Fathers escape I had a chance to spend with him my first seven years of my life. Many times my Father was telling us about the hard life in Siberia. He was pointing at this drawing most of the time. This brutal life and the scene were indelibly imprinted on my subconscious mind. So I got the message and the scene but not the messenger. I feel strongly that the picture above does resemble my Father very much. He is carrying a long timber cutting saw.





News spread quickly, and soon everybody in the nearby villages learned of his fate. My uncle Pawel Przegalinski, who worked at the city hall in Yur’yevka, immediately began

making plans to rescue his brother. He skillfully forged passports, one for my father, one for himself, and one for their cousin Miyeczyslaw. In earlier and happier days, the three of them had been almost joined at the hip. Now two of them were about to risk their own lives to save the third. After months of planning, the two set out with my father’s forged passport safely tucked away. They rode for days some 9,000 Kilometers or 6,000 miles on the Trans-Siberian Railroad, crossing some eleven time zones, leaving their own lives and families behind—maybe for good. When they finally arrived at the Khabarovsk prison camp, they snooped around and found that the security was light. The camp was surrounded by hundreds of kilometers of wilderness; the only way out was by a solitary one-way railroad. There wasn’t much need for security. Without passports, no escapee could get far. By now Stalin had clamped down so hard that even going from town to town required a passport. In order to slip my father’s passport to him, they first had to become prisoners themselves. They had to be extremely careful as to how they did this. After the prisoners left to cut the trees, they watched two prisoners and their activity for a while. Couple of prisoners chopping wood to be burned in the iron stoves inside these primitive wooden PRISON barracks. You see, that all there was for hundreds of miles around them was dense pine forest, called Taiga one of the daily tasks. When no one was around, they just snuck in, started chopping wood themselves, and took it back inside the barracks. They had their own blankets with them and made their beds on the floor with the rest of the prisoners. When Jozef returned from cutting trees in another part of the camp, he was disbelievingly startled to see his brothers, but he kept a cool head. He didn’t greet them or say anything at first. That evening they joined together in the chow line, waiting to get a bowl of soup with maybe a small chunk of black bread where they finally were able to talk quietly. Pawel and Miyeczyslaw told Jozef what they were up to. They spent some time at the camp, working twelve-hour shifts at hard labor to earn their meager bowl of soup and bread at night. At first, they would only talk with Jozef while cutting trees. A few days later, once they had blended in, they then communicated more freely but they never drew any attention to their camaraderie. The plan was that when the two brothers escaped, Jozef wouldn’t be questioned. Because as far as anyone was concerned, Jozef didn’t know them. The three men memorized the sequence of the train arrivals and departures over the next few days. If their first escape attempt was not successful, there would be no second chance; none of them would ever see their families again. After all the plans had been made, Jozef had secured his forged passport and some rubles, Soviet currency, to get him home. The two brothers left, fearful that a party of three would raise suspicion on the journey home. It is hard to imagine the courage and dedication that it took for these two to leave their families to travel to Siberia with forged passports, and then to become prisoners to rescue their brother. How many people today know someone who would do that for them? This reminds me of the old line from the movie “Boys Town” and later became a popular song in the late ‘60s: “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother!” The reason that my Mother Nina was not deported to the Siberian prison with my Father was that Nina was 3 months pregnant with me. A family doctor and close friend gave her a signed examination that Nina was 6 months pregnant.  If this doctor, who put his neck on the line for my mother, had not done this, Nina would have been deported along with Josef and this story would not have been told. This doctor saved me from being born in a Siberian prison to die there along with Nina and Josef.




    Every armed guard above represents one “Destructive Labor--Camp”




My Father’s first deportation occurred in 1929 from Yur’yevka “Green Dot” my birth place, near Kiev (the second, and final deportation, would come eight years later). The Czar of Russia, Nicholas II, originally set up the “Destructive-Labor Camps”. When Stalin rose to power, he built many more of these camps to be able to liquidate more of his presumed enemies. With the Czar and Stalin combined, from 1894 to 1954, 66 million people were liquidated by hard labor, executions, starvation, or the bitter Siberian cold.



   My Father’s first deportation was to KhabarovskRED DOT”, Siberia in 1929, and 6,000 miles from home. Almost 500 Destructive Labor--Camps were built by Dictator Josef Stalin, spanning over 6,000 miles (9,600 km) and 11 time zones across the entire Soviet Union. One day when studying the map of Siberia I remember my Father telling us from where he actually escaped. According to his explanation about the time and places as a prisoner in Siberia, I noticed the single railroad to and from Khabarovsk to Moscow. Looking north of the railroad tracks for hundreds of miles are the prisons and forest. No roads of any kind. This was the only place considering one wanted to escape. The rest of the 400 some prisons all across the Soviet Union perhaps were not as close to the railroad. Now I am sure that brother Pawel with his cousin Michislaw and three forged passports saw the chance and possibilities when they looked at the map and recognized that the prison and the railroad was one and the same place. Incredibly they decided to join my Father as prisoners and pass him his forged passport.         

















The Great and Daring Escape

How was it Planed and done!

   The original sketch of my Father was done by his rescuer brother Powel shows a brutal winter in Siberian prison. And was given to my Father Jozef after they all three escaped. Again, my Uncle Pawel rescued all three of us by notifying Jozef that the City Hall is getting ready to ship Mom and me six months old to join Jozef in Siberian prison, while Josef escaped and was living at home on a baking oven.  Once out of the prison it was easier for them to mix in with the villagers to buy some food for the journey because they didn’t looked like prisoners like my Father did besides, they had the passports, even though these were forged passports never the less it gave them some flexibility if not much comfort. One night after the two, brother and cousin, Pawel Przegalinski and Miyeczyslaw, had escaped; my father slipped into the surrounding forest and made his way, concealed, to the far side of the train station. When the train started to roll, Jozef slipped out of the forest just in time to catch one of the last cars. He settled down in a brake booth, and began his journey of some 6,000 miles (9,000 Kilometers) home. Just because he had a passport didn’t mean he was in the clear—not by a long shot. Picture yourself after a year of hard labor, without a single decent meal in all that time. Josef was by then a gaunt, dirty, exhausted-looking man. There’s no doubt that he looked like an escaped prisoner. So he had to hide at least until he reached some kind of civilization where he could blend in better. The first leg of the trip was the worst. Once he had gotten some distance covered, if discovered he might be able to get away with saying he had hopped on at the last station just in time to catch the brake booth. He might be able to joke with whoever found him, thanking them for a cheap ticket and sharing his small sack of tomatoes with them. But during that first leg, there were no “last stations” other than the prison yard. I can only imagine the relief he must have felt when the train pulled into the little village of Yarmurka, and then continued a few minutes later without incident. He now at least had that name under his belt. And so it went. Even after he had put hundreds of miles between him and the prison, he was still terrified of being caught and sent back—or worse. So for most of the journey my father lived in hiding, either in the brake booth, or if too many…

people were milling about the rear cars of the train, sometimes actually under the train car—the rail bed hurtling by just inches below him. When his little bag of food ran out, he ate whatever he could forage from the surrounding fields when the train would make its stops. If the train hands got off to the right to pick cucumbers, he would sneak off to the left to grab tomatoes, or a watermelon, or whatever was there. Finally the train pulled into its final destination, Kuibychev, a town about 500 miles east of Moscow and the beginning of a real civilization again. Josef slipped out of his hiding place, washed up as best he could, and then blended into the hustle and bustle. He hopped onto another train heading into Kiev like a normal human being even though he had a forged passport. Yet, he finally was starting to feel somewhat safer. Later, as a child I would listen to father repeat the story to mother. They thought I was asleep but I was always so fascinated to hear him tell about his “great escape.”

Escaped and Reunited


   When the Bolsheviks had arrested my father and confiscated his land, my mother had been reported to them that she was six months pregnant with me. A family doctor and close friend fudged on her actual condition, because she really was only about three months along in her pregnancy. If this doctor, who put his neck on the line for my mother, had not done this, Nina would have been deported along with Josef and this story would not have been told. The Bolsheviks allowed Nina to stay in her house because of her condition and so that she could keep working the land for the government. One night almost a year later, she thought she heard a familiar scratching sound at her window—a sound she remembered well from the nights when she and my father had been courting. In disbelief, she looked to the window and saw my father’s face with his nose pressed against the window pain just like he used to do when he would come for a visit. Her heart leaped! She wanted nothing more than to run to the door and throw it open to let him in but she did not dare do anything that would draw attention to the new Communist Government armed guard pacing and guarding my fathers inherited estate. A guard had been placed at the property to keep watch over the livestock and equipment due to rampant theft. He made systematic rounds of the property, even peering in the windows of our home when he felt like it. My mother had to wait out the long agonizing minutes for a signal from my father to open the door when the guard was at…

the other side of the house. When the familiar scratch was heard at the door, she opened the door as quickly as she could in silence. My father slipped in the door and she into his arms. They spoke only in whispers, afraid that waking me, now six months old, would be enough to alert the guard. Think how it would be to feel back safely in the arms of the woman you loved after such an ordeal, gazing for the first time ever at your baby son and not being able to shout for joy—or even say a word out loud. Nina did not reveal what her husband’s reactions were but she does say that their whispers soon fell silent, and my father was soon sound asleep—the first real sleep he had in a long, long time. What a strange twist of fate this had to be: in his home on the farm that he had been raised on with nine siblings by a widowed mother, Jozef was now a fugitive hiding in the house on the bake oven that he inherited and was rightfully his. Even his relatives in the area could not be told of his presence. Worse yet, in a few days we would have to escape the watchful eyes of the guard to disappear into the countryside, leaving Yur’yevka and our families forever. Such were the times. One day before mother and father were ready to leave there was a knock on the door. Nina opened it to find two men standing there. One was an official from city hall; the other was a Communist Party official from Kiev who was visiting Yur’yevka. Nina was told that she had to prepare a place for him in her chata for the night. Nina found herself in a terrible quagmire. Inviting a State official into her house would put father in grave jeopardy. But if she refused the demand they certainly would search the house and find him. Nina was petrified but she had to invite them in. My father had heard the conversation and was already hiding on top of the bake oven before Nina opened the door. The top of the oven was higher than eye level. Jozef stacked blankets and pillows at the foot on the sides of the oven so that he couldn’t be seen. Once the unwelcome guest had settled in, Nina crawled up with me head first into the space. This was not as odd as some may think. The oven was a warm place in a typically very cold house. More than one poor Ukrainian family was known to pass the awful winter nights in such a way. The official never suspected a thing. Nina carefully crawled through the blankets and pillows and curled up next to Jozef. This time they could not even whisper. She held Josef’s hand until the guest started to snore. Thank God for snoring—it was the most welcome sound in that room. As long as the man slept he couldn’t discover Jozef. Funny how there can be times when even snoring is a blessing. However, Jozef could not afford to snore. Nina saw to it. She stayed awake through the night. At the slightest sound from him, she would squeeze his hand and he would stop. She would pretend that it was she, just in case the official guest became suspicious. The next morning the man left, and Jozef was again relatively safe. One day a short while later, when my mother was out of the house on an errand, there was a familiar knock on the door. Thinking it was her, my father opened the door. But there, to his great surprise, stood his brother Pawel, the same brother that had rescued him from Siberia. Seeing Josef’s look of worry, he assured my father that his secret was still secure but he had other bad news. He had come to tell Nina that she and little Baby Tadeusz were soon to be deported to Siberia to join him. Communications being as primitive as they were in Russia, the news had not yet arrived in Yur’yevka that my father had escaped from the labor camp. Only Pawel knew of my father’s presence. He had already risked his life once for him. Now, coming to the door with this news, he risked his life a second time trying to save my mother and me, six months old. Time was now crucial. The buried gold would have to be retrieved and we would have to leave almost immediately to find a safer hiding place before the NKVD came for my mother and me. So she took every opportunity to keep the guard occupied with her “tea service,” while my father dug up the gold that he had hidden in the yard long before. One night after the gold was recovered the move was made. My father slipped away first. He waited for Nina under the tree they always used to meet at in happier times. Nina had to time the guard through a window. When the guard was almost at his farthest point, Nina, with breast in my mouth to keep me from crying, slipped out of the house, closing the door behind her so as not to alert the guard. Mother and father walked under the cover of darkness, keeping hidden as well as they could between the rows of corn on the collectives. Mother kept her breast in my mouth to keep me silent as we made our way to the home of my aunt, several miles away. But staying with them created further problems. For one thing, as soon as mother was discovered missing the relatives’ houses would be searched first, of course. But worse, since they had no baby in their house, it was necessary that no one in the village become suspicious of the presence of a small child. Fear was strong in those days. Your best friend one day might turn you in the next. The house was sealed for noise as well as possible, the curtains were kept drawn and visitors were discouraged. Soon arrangements had been made for the second stage of our

escape. The journey now took us to the tiny village of Novosyiolovka In southern Ukraine, some 500 miles where a room and a job on a housing project site were waiting for my father, secured by his cousin, Adam Halicki. Father thought that maybe he had beaten fate. By the time I was eight years old when father was taken away for good, I had learned much from him. I had heard him talk many times about the harshness, brutality, starvation, and bitterly cold life in the Russian prisons. Most prisoners never survived over five years. Systematic beatings, torture, and inhumane cruelty were a way of life in some 500 prisons all over the entire Soviet Union in the 1930’s. I remember vividly cities and places discussed: Khabarovsk, Solovki, Novosibirsk, Krasnoyarsk, Irkutsk, Nikolayevsk, Vladivostok, and Kamchatka. I wonder which one my father ended up in. And I wonder if that’s where he finished his days. According to estimates gathered by émigré professor of statistics Kurganov, the decades of this internal repression cost us a total of sixty-six million—66,000,000—human lives. My Uncle Pavel warned us that deportation of me, 6 months old, with Nina was imminent to join my Father Josef in the Siberian prison. The authorities did not know that my Father Josef has escaped and was living on a bake oven at home. Communication those days was practically non existent.  

This was the second time that my life was saved by my Uncle Pavel








Solzhenitsyn, 1946 as a prisoner in the

Kaluga Gates Camp, Moscow.

Born December 11, 1918August 3, 2008


  I am also in debt to the Russian writer Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn. His stories


Camps helped me to understand my Father even though I only knew him briefly. Thanks to Thomas Whitney, Solzhenitsyn’s translator and Harper & Row Publishers for bringing his writings to the western world. I regret that I did not meet him as I wanted to and planed to meet with this great freedom warrior before he left us on August 3, 2008 He left us with inhumane hart wrenching Insights of Russian Pinal System KGB and Stalin’s Brutal Legacy close to 500 Concentration Prisons.

Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn

Russian Writer

Mr. Aleksandr I. Solzhenitsyn as a prisoner himself explains the life in the “Destructive-Labor Camps” of Russia very eloquently in his book: The Gulag Archipelago and Gulag Archipelago Two.

 “There is no limit to what should be included in this part. To attain and encompass its savage meaning one would have to drag out many lives in the camps—the very same in which one cannot survive for even one term without some special advantage, because they were invented for destruction”. “And from this it follows that all those who drank of this most deeply, who explored it most fully, are already in their graves and cannot tell us. No one now can ever tell us the most important thing about those camps”. “And the whole scope of this story and of this truth is beyond the capabilities of one lonely pen. All I had was a peephole into the Archipelago, not the view from a tower. But, fortunately, several other books have emerged, and more will emerge. In the Kolyma Stories of Shalamov the reader will perhaps feel more truly and surely the

Pitilessness of the spirit of the Archipelago and the limits of the human despair…” “[For,] to taste the sea, all one needs is one gulp.”








Stalin’s War against the Peasant’s
Fear, Horrors and Suffering


I’ve said a lot about what Stalin did to the kulaks and the likes of Writers like Solzhenitsyn. I should take a minute to say why. The power struggle begun when Vladimir I. Lenin, founder of the U.S.S.R., died in 1924 the struggle ended in 1927 Stalin quickly rose to lead the ruling body, the Politburo. Through the 1920’s he used rhetoric, lies, and charm to win over the left and the right and become the supreme head of the nation, answerable to no one. He also employed the ruthless skills of Felek’s Dzerzhinsky, head of the NKVD, the precursor to the KGB. A Ukrainian grain shortage in 1927 and 1928 helped his cause. Ukraine was the heartland and the wheat basket for the country’s grain. Ranting against what he called the greedy “Kulaks,” (Land owners) Stalin sent 100,000 of his henchmen into the countryside, confiscating grain and imprisoning thousands. Soviet peasants loved him for this. And his power grew. But at the same time, he was making plenty of enemies, not only among kulaks, but in cities too. Hell-bent on industrializing and modernizing the Soviet Union, he imprisoned entrepreneurs and businessmen for their skills, and he tortured many of them to get their buried gold. Before long, anybody with land, gold, or brains saw Stalin as a dangerous threat. And by the end of the 1920’s, he saw them as a threat too, one he had to eliminate. During Stalin’s purges over the next decade, millions of people were killed. The whole Bolshevik old guard supporters of Stalin’s political rivals like Trotsky (Lenin’s former right-hand man) — were wiped out. A Soviet agent assassinated Trotsky in August 1940 in his living quarters in Mexico City while in exile. Many were ruthlessly eliminated and many foreign Communist leaders were also murdered. In fact, Stalin had more German and Polish Communist leaders killed than Hitler did. This event is unique in history.

Stalin’s Purge of the Military


   Although during World War II some 1,000 Soviet generals were killed, more perished in peacetime under Stalin. According to Todorsky, 3 out of 5 marshals, 15 out of 16 army commanders, 60 out of 67 corps commanders, and 136 out of 199 divisional commanders were murdered. Even members of Stalin’s own NKVD leadership were not safe. Those not killed outright were sent to the labor camps, like Felek Guliszevski and my father. Official figures state that around 2,500,000 people were exiled from 1929 to 1931 alone, including 400,000 Kulak families. It was a true time of terror and horror.












Ukraine Famine, of 1932-33 I was two years old.

The Tragedy of 10 Million Deaths


   Seventy years ago the people of Ukraine, along with a small Polish population with their own Catholic Churches, were part of the Soviet Union. The Soviet Dictator Josef Stalin felt that the Ukrainians have been disloyal, and began to teach obedience and punishment to the entire nation of the Ukraine. Stalin seized food to force peasants to give up land. Famine was Horrific. It is estimated that 10 million Ukrainians and Poles alike died during that famine, even though our land was capable of feeding all the people—with plenty left over for export to other Soviet Republics. Yet as terrible as these executions, purges, and deportations were, even more people may have perished during this horrible famine 1932-33 than in those purges and Hitler’s systematic murders combined. In two short years, the traditional Ukrainian village was completely destroyed. It is estimated that 4,000,000 children alone died, not to mention their parents. “Those were hard years some of the hardest times of our lives,” my mother told Anne and me, shuddering. As Anne and I listened to our mother’s story, we sensed her deep horror. I had some vague memories of it, but what we were hearing now made it so much more real. How terrible and incredible it was. “Starvation was everywhere,” she continued. “It reached like tendrils from a weed into every house in the village.” The Przegalinski house was no exception. By the end of 1929, Stalin realized that America’s Depression and Europe’s post-war rebuilding efforts left him on his own financially. Stalin wanted to—and had to—industrialize the Soviet Union. And in order to pay for it he had to increase agricultural exports to pay for the heavy industrial equipment that was needed. Land was confiscated and all were barbarically forced to work on the communal farms—the kolkhoz serving the government. Ukraine may have been the breadbasket of the Soviet Union, but her people did not sit by and let this ruthless government dictate their destiny. They protested, they refused to register and work on the collectives, and they stockpiled their grain. And so Stalin began to despise everything Ukrainian. By 1931 the true terror of what he was capable of came out. Not only were kulaks and their families deported, but the rest of the Ukrainian population also was starved. The local Communist authorities inaugurated a systematic plundering of all food supplies. They would come into every household regularly, searching the premises for any food that might be hidden in the home.










After confiscating whatever food could be found, they would then probe the grounds with iron rods to try to uncover anything of value, especially food that might have been buried. During the winter, knowing that anything stored outside would be frozen and difficult to locate, the guards would simply come into the house, take whatever there was, even if it was only a potato, and leave the family with no sustenance whatever. There was no transportation available. All travel was on foot. In the summer the dust was hardly bearable; and when the rains came the mud was ankle deep. However, the winters were the worst with their unrelenting sub-zero weather. Temperatures of 30 or 40 below zero were an everyday occurrence. Many of the chatas were not built very high, so that often blizzards would cover a house completely; only the chimneys could be seen, poking their smoking heads out of the snowdrifts. Lack of firewood or any other fuel meant certain death for many. The winter of 1933 my family, like many, chopped down the last tree on our property, trying to keep warm. Many were not so fortunate, and when the spring thaws finally turned the snow to trickling streams, the stench of thawing bodies that had been frozen through the winter would fill the air for miles around. Father would get up in the frozen mornings, and taking a small piece of bread that had been saved from the previous day, would dip it into hot water, and breakfast would be over. However, he never failed to give thanks for the few crumbs of bread that he had received. Then he would leave for the sawmill several miles up the road where his cousin Adam Halicki had managed to secure him steady work. Sometimes later in the day my mother would find something, a shrunken potato perhaps, and would boil it and then trudge the miles through the snow to the mill with it, so that my father would have something to help him through his day’s of hard labor. The working days were difficult. The men worked in pairs, each pair handling a saw ten or twelve feet in length, with a handle on each end. One of the partners would climb on top of the log while the other remained below. The logs were often more than three feet in diameter. At the end of the day, my father would be given a portion of a loaf of black bread about four Inches Square. (Stalin had made a pact with Hitler to send Ukrainian wheat to Germany, while the masses living in Ukraine were fed a substitute made with a black berry that grew abundantly in the region; this came to be known as “black bread.”) This small piece of bread that my father brought home was a meager portion for one person. In our home, all three shared it. I, as the youngest and weakest, received the largest portion.












Since I was too young to chew the bread, my parents would chew the bread first and then feed it to me. There was very little left for them. Starvation always hovered in the shadows. One day, my father made the hard decision to sell all the gold jewelry and other gold items his family owned (except for his and mother’s gold wedding rings, which I still have today). He went to the bazaar to try to sell them for food and clothing that we needed. But his pockets were picked there, and he lost everything. This was very prevalent in Ukraine in those days. There were lots of desperate people, and lots of them became very good thieves. They could take your wristwatch while you lit their cigarette. When Jozef walked in to the house with his face white as a sheet, Nina knew there was something wrong. Jozef had a tough time telling Nina how he lost every thing. Mother didn’t need to tell us how hard that had been on Jozef for a long time. Another day, my mother, desperate to barter for food at another bazaar, gathered a few last trinkets and set out with a friend on the two-mile journey. On the way home, weakened by starvation and exhaustion, she simply sat down in the snow, unable to go any further. Her friend left her and went to a house in the distance for help. After bringing her into the house, they rubbed her body with snow—their cure for frostbite—and let her rest for a while. The peasant woman who lived in the house where my mother had been brought told of how she herself had gone to the same bazaar just the week before, looking for food, and how she had bartered furiously for a container of meat that was labeled “boiled pig’s feet.” Feeling fortunate to have won such a prize, her family began their meal happily—until they noticed a fingernail protruding through the jelly-like substance that held the meat together. Digging further, they found a whole finger. She did not tell whether or not they had finished their meal, but the pain of hunger and the need to survive shades the vision in such days. That evening, after arriving home, my mother took the one potato and the one red beet that she had bartered for, and made a soup that was supposed to be the famous Ukrainian borscht. For this thin soup of one potato and one red beet, she had nearly given her life; and she could not eat it without shuddering to think of what others might be eating that night, or not eating at all. Later, my mother told with stark simplicity of another time early one evening, when she went to visit a neighbor woman. The woman was barely recognizable, her head swollen and water-logged with the edema that comes with starvation; yet she was quietly humming a song to herself as she attended the bake-oven, never paying any attention to my mother.












As my mother drew closer, she saw that the woman was preparing her dead child for the evening meal. Mother left that home, but that vision has never left her. So as spring came on, the stench of rotting human flesh hung in the air and would not dissipate. Fortunately I was too young to remember it but Mother was not. She said that the entire countryside felt dead. Livestock was unheard of, having been either slaughtered or confiscated before starvation set in. A person could walk for miles and see no life anywhere. Cats and dogs were gone, having been eaten before they, too, starved. Everything edible had been confiscated, and even birds and wildlife were gone. Those still living no longer seemed to care. There was no help to be given or received. People could be seen sitting propped up against their little chatas in lifeless positions, unrecognizably bloated from starvation. The weeds around the chata were two- to four-feet tall, so high you could hardly see the person until you came closer. Stalin’s program for Ukraine was succeeding. “It was faith that kept us alive,” my mother told me. “Faith! Angels watched over us. They came into our life like sometimes angels do! They come in the shape of people. Like the night watchman at the collective—maybe he was an angel.” The house in which we lived neighbored the collective. Sometimes, late at night, we would hear a pebble strike against the window. When father would get up to investigate this noise, there would be the night watchman from the collective. Silently, he would hand my father a bucket of tomatoes, and just as silently, he would fade away into the shadows. This would happen time and again. My mother would make the sign of the Cross taking whatever was given; then she would pickle it in a small wooden barrel or a clay crock and put it in a hole under the bed. There it would stay hidden and kept from freezing during the winter. I don’t know why we got food when so many others didn’t. But I’m forever grateful to that man.


As Gandhi said, “God dare not appear to a hungry man in any form other than food.”













This was the third time that my life was saved


Directly by Nina and Josef. They knew that if they die I, now two years old, would die also.  



Renovating a Church into a Theater


   Somehow we survived the famine. By 1934 people were eating again, and things were slowly returning to normal poverty after that long nightmare changes were in store for the Przegalinski family. The housing project that my father was working on was finishing up and a new project was beginning in the village of Petropavlovka, about twelve miles away. He was offered a job at the new location and so we moved once again. On this job my father was renovating a church into a theater. Imagine having to survive by watching your government desecrate your holy sites. I remember one story, when he was on top of a steeple dismantling the church bell. The supports gave out and the bell fell to the ground before its programmed fall almost taking father with it. Obviously somebody above didn’t like what father was doing! The bell ended up buried so deep that they had to use several teams of horses to pull it out of the ground. This was a frequent topic of discussion in our home for quite some time, and one of my earliest memories. But in a way life at Petropavlovka was so much better than Novosyiolovka. It was still a small place but it was definitely bigger than Novosyiolovka and with more opportunity. The famine was over and life was returning to the countryside. It was here that we were able to purchase our first chata. My father’s boss was moving into an apartment and he offered my father his old home. With help from his cousin, Adam Halicki, who always managed to save the day, my father was able to purchase this little chatka (a diminutive, meaning “like a small peasant house”) for a deposit of 25 rubles, with 100 more rubles due over time. That sounds cheap and it would have been in better times. But in those days when a worker’s salary might be paid in crusts of black bread, it was unheard of. After all, even in such times houses couldn’t be bought with bread. Nina never forgot the many kindnesses of Adam Halicki. It is unfortunate that the last memory she had of the Halicki family was a bitter one. But I’ll tell you about that in a little bit. Father and Adam sacrificed much to scrape the down payment together, but they did it. The house was located on the outskirts of the village known as Pyiski, which translates as “sand dunes.” It was a one-room house, built out of sticks held together by sun-dried clay, with a roof of straw thatch and a dirt floor. To us it was a home. It came with a bake oven like the one in our home in Yur’yevka. The bake oven even had a sleeping loft over it like the one where my father hid when he had escaped from the Siberian labor camp. As a young lad I was now allowed to sleep in that loft where I could pretend I was hiding as my father had hidden. Father was an ingenious handyman. It was a good thing because the chata’s only room somehow had to accommodate us not only as living quarters—with room for dining, sleeping, and food storage—but also provide a place for a new and priceless addition to our family.

We had acquired a cow as a reward for my father’s excellent work and production. The same government that wanted him imprisoned—or dead—was now giving him a cow, of course not knowing that he was a prison escapee. They would discover that later. So to make room for the cow in a space of less than 600 square feet my father divided the house with a couple of partitions. When we entered the dwelling there was a wall immediately to the left with a



door. This door led into a room about twenty Feet Square, which served us as living room, dining room and a bedroom. All there was in this room was a bake oven and a cooking oven on the right as you walked in. Living room, bedroom and dining room were all in one; the dining room was a little sliver open to the rest with a little table that would barely seat the three of us. It was cozy, compact and well organized. Still standing at the front door, straight ahead was a hole about four feet square and four feet deep, covered with a trap door. This was our food cellar, which would hold enough produce to take us through the winter and keep it from freezing. Just now! It reminds me as to why Mother and I were not using this for cover during the German assault. When a Russian Mortar landed next to my left foot and did not explode. I think of it often, that food caller 4x4 is where Mom and I should have been. Then, immediately to the right when you entered was another wall. This space was the residence for our black cow that we had named Zuchka (which means “black beetle”). Being under the same roof would give us the benefit of her body heat as well as keeping her warm through the winter and assuring us of milk for ourselves. “This was the first great improvement since the day of our marriage,” my mother said. We had an-acre of land for a garden, and it fed us through those years. After my Father was deported to Siberia for the second time, Nina had another story to tell me later during the war as conscripts. Very late we would finally lie down on the kitchen floor and Nina would tell me a story. I knew this particular story but not all of it. I remember late one night Nina, as usual, was telling me about our cow Zuchka. On this particular day, Zuchka was tied up outside late in the afternoon when all of a sudden it became very cloudy and rain was imminent. Nina walked out to get Zuchka inside but the cow was gone. Night was falling and it began to rain as Nina walked through all the neighbors’ cornfields to find our cow. As she put a rope around her neck and was leading her home, lightning struck nearby, frightening the cow. Nina held on for her life, but after a short run Nina had to let go. That was the last time that Nina saw our cow Zuchka. Nina was also pregnant at the time. A few months earlier she had lost Jozef for the second time and now the cow was also gone. Nina had a miscarriage and lost a baby boy and I would have had a brother. These memories do not sit right with me. What would our lives have been like if not for Stalin’s cruelty to humanity and his own people? We were a hard working family. Our family would have been together and I would not have had to be on the run for most part of my life.












This, I believe is the fourth time that my life was saved.

1.               Because my Mother Nina chasing our cow Zuchka aborted and lost my baby brother. 2. My Father was in Siberian prison. This left Nina with just me, 11 years old. So the German Commanding Officer Feltfebel Klüwa in his mind accepted my Mother Nina as almost baggage free. I was 11 and also could work and I did. Otherwise, Klüwa would have found another companion. And again we would never have gotten out of Russia and this story would never have been written. Bad situations, later in life show up as a good thing.



   Stefan Piotrowski born in 1906 in or near Yur’yevka near Kyiv Ukraine He was educated in Leningrad in Soviet Union now Petrograd as a Metallurgist and also attended Soviet West Point there. In 1939 when the Soviets invaded Finland, my uncle and his wife a Medical Doctor were sent to Finland during the invasion. This may have been the only couple that did not go to fight. If they didn’t get killed they certainly would rather become prisoners, this was their chance to escape the brutal system of the Soviet Union. I just hope that they did make it. I will never know. One thing is for certain they made it dead or alive to get out of Stalin’s grip on their lives. 


My Uncle Stefan, was also a Russian Army Officer


   Though living under the harsh Communist yoke, mother and father had managed to make a life. My Father Jozef had dyslexia from childhood he was unable to read and was not able to acquire even a formal education Josef was a farmer and a very skilled handy man and always managed to find work. Years passed and our family was still surviving. I was seven now and going to school regularly.  One hot summer day I was home by myself after school. My father was working and my mother was at the bazaar and I remember seeing a man approaching our chata. He was not too tall, but he was very big in the shoulders.








He somehow looked familiar, as if I should know him. He asked me if my name was Thadzyu (a diminutive version of Tadeusz, like Teddy). I said, “Yes.” He said, “I am your uncle Stefan Piotrowski.” This was the first time I had ever met my Uncle Stefan. I was excited to finally meet another relative of mine! I think Uncle Stefan was also very happy to meet me. He came inside picked me up, and just carried me around for a bit. We played out in the garden until mother came home. When Nina saw him, she dropped everything and ran to hug him. There were tears coming from her eyes as she told him, “You’re my only brother. Why can’t we live together?” Uncle Stefan was Emotional and teary-eyed too. He knew that it would be impossible. Just coming to visit us was dangerous enough. After the hugging and crying came to an end the three of us played and talked the rest of the day until father came home. Jozef was as surprised as the two of us and very happy that my uncle had made the journey to come see us. It wasn’t long before the talk turned to serious topics. We all went inside. These kinds of conversations had to take place inside the house with all the windows closed. I remember discussions that went into the late night hours. The subject was how to escape to America—through Finland, Japan, or China. Uncle Stefan was in the Soviet Army and had some familiarity with the routes our family could take. I remember hearing them say that they were waiting until I got older and more able to handle the hardships of life on the run. I wish they hadn’t waited. They also discussed with reverence their patriots and heroes, Jozef Pilsudski and Tadeusz Kosciuszko, after whom my father named me Tadeusz, my father  Josef was born in 1902 he was named after another Polish hero Jozef Pilsudski. Tadeusz Kosciuszko had been trained as a military engineer in Warsaw some 150 years earlier. Kosciuszko had left his country of Poland to help the American Revolution when the Colonies needed him the most. In 1777 he laid out the fortifications along the Hudson River and build the fortifications of West Point. After being promoted to the rank of general, Kosciuszko took an active part in fighting during the American Revolution. Kosciuszko helped to win the battle of Saratoga and turn the tide of the war. He remained in the army through June 1783, and received two gifts from General George Washington personally: an engraved sword and two polished pistols, which can still be seen exhibited in Polish museums today. Those formative years of my development as a young lad and overhearing those conversations would leave an indelible print on my mind, body, and soul. I came into the world at a time of upheaval and revolution, Kosciuszko and Pilsudski, are two of my ancestral country’s greatest revolutionaries. This bit of my family’s thoughts and philosophy gave me the strength to persevere on my sometimes very rocky road to freedom in the years to come. Jozef Pilsudski and Tadeusz Kosciuszko also became my idols, great role models that I could look up to, instead of Stalin.





                                                                                   With Permission


Entered according to an act of Congress, 1839 by A. Gerard in the Clerk’s Office of the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York.


Thad. Kosciuszko


“Hope for a Season Bade the World Farewell

And Freedom Shrieked as Kosciuszko Fell.”


   I often think of my Uncle Stefan’s poor, clothes-washing, widowed mother, Victoria Piyetrowska, who gave his younger sister, my mother, Nina, to her well-to-do sister Guliszevski for adoption. This allowed her to raise her son with her meager income and manage to send him to the University of Leningrad. Stefan Piotrowski was the only one in the family who was educated. He became an officer in the Russian Army, educated as a military engineer with a degree in Metallurgy and Heavy Weaponry. My Uncle Stefan was totally influenced by Tadeusz Kosciuszko. My Father also named me Tadeusz. Uncle Stefan stayed with us for a little more than a week. He met only one of my friends only because it was unavoidable. We tried hard to discourage our friends from even knowing that he was visiting us. The reason was so that no one could connect his relationship to us, because, after all, his brother-in-law was a state enemy, an escaped prisoner from Siberia. This is all we had, living under Stalin. “Pilsudski, Pulaski and Kosciuszko as the only heroes in our family and Poland”.

a deportee on the run. He would tell us stories about the West Point-Officer’s Academy in Leningrad and to me that was a big deal. Up to that time I did not know that there was such a thing as a university, and in the evenings he and my mother and father would talk late into the night trying to make plans for our escape to America. It was fascinating to listen to while I was supposed to have been sleeping. But I had been trained right—life under those subsistence conditions was an excellent training in itself. Finally he had to leave and return to the army but he gave me a toy gun he had brought with him. I cherished it because that was the only toy anyone had ever brought me. My father taught me how to make my own toys, including ice skates out of wood and heavy wire, a snow sled, and snow skis. But he never had the money to buy a toy. The gun is one of two things I remember most from the years in Petropavlovka. The other was one day when I was at the bazaar with my father. He bought me an orange. He paid two rubles for it, half a week’s salary in a good year—and these were hardly good years. I don’t know why he did it; he must have just wanted to treat me to something special. But I remember that it was delicious. That was my first and last orange until I got to the U.S. fifteen years later, and if I think hard enough I can still taste it. Those were strangely happy times for me. I was happy indeed to have food and shelter, and a mother and father. I was happy to have met my “Officer Uncle,” as I used to call him. I only met Uncle Stefan that one time and never met his wife, Zina, a doctor in Leningrad. He was, after all, a Soviet officer and his brother-in-law, my father, was an escaped Siberian deportee. He didn’t want the authorities to notice his relationship to us. In 1939-40, Russia invaded Finland. Uncle Stefan and his wife were both sent there, one to kill, the other to heal. We never heard from them again. I hope that they did make it to America as they planned; I try not to picture them lying silent on a snow-covered battlefield with thousands of other Russians and Finns.       







1938 Survival at Seven


   For more than half a decade, after my Father escaped Siberian prison Father, Mother, and I lived in Petropavlovka together. But my father knew that it would not last, that he would not always be with us. As soon as I was old enough, he began teaching me many things about survival. He would take me out in the fields where we would gather dry coarse straw and weeds that would stoke the fire. He taught me how to scrounge for firewood where there was none; to dig up old stumps, chopping through the roots with a hatchet, and drag them home to dry and store for the winter’s heat. The things that he taught me then helped my mother and me to survive later, when we were on our own. But for a few years, life was good, almost normal. Than before the orchards bloomed, my Father was picked up by the KGB to never see him again. It was in Petropavlovka that I started school, and that I learned about friends. We were Poles—Russian citizens for generations, but Polish by blood—and for that, there was discord. Our neighbors, who were Jewish, had a son about my age named Boris. We became good friends. As a Jew he had the distinction of being the only kid in the neighborhood who was as disliked for being Jewish as I was for being Polish. (Racial tension is hardly unique to America.) This we had in common, our need to fight the other kids on occasion. We were a great support for each other. However, I liked the other kids too. I thought we were all in the same boat on this Planet and that we should all get along. One day I had an idea. I organized an apple raid on a nearby orchard. There were five of us: Misha, Kostyik, Sasha, Boris, and me. This orchard was about a mile away from my house. We would walk by it every day after school and our appetite kept increasing. It all looked so good! So one day I made a plan. We stopped for a few minutes at the orchard to size everything up. There was a big dog guarding it and the owner’s house was visible from everywhere except the far back corner of the lot. That corner would be our target. The next day after school I got the kids together again and we decided to make the raid that night as long as the wind was blowing toward us so the dog wouldn’t pick up our scent (I learned that one from my father). I told everybody to bring a sack and meet at the corner after the sun went down. When we got together again in the evening the wind was right. We decided to do it. I put Boris on one side of the orchard to watch for the owner and signal us if the owner came out. Sasha was to watch the dog on the other side of the orchard; if he had to, he would make

it bark at him to keep it away from us.

(Sasha wasn’t on their property, so it would look like the dog was just barking at him as he is walking by.) Misha and I were the fruit-pickers. Kostyik came into the orchard, too, to help, but his big job was to keep watch for Boris’s signals. We crawled in on all fours, filled up our sacks as quickly as possible, and made our escape clean! This operation was very successful. The only trouble is that we couldn’t be seen walking down the road with huge sacks of fruit. So we walked through the fields and hid most of it in the far corner of the garden at my house. The next day all the kids came to my chata and than to

the corner of my garden. We would uncover the hidden juicy mouth watering apples and have our own little feast. I still can smell and taste every bite of it,

sort of red striped on one side of the apple that was facing the sun. One day, one by one we split our precious loot and to tell our parents that some kid with a big orchard shared these apples with us. I thought that my Mother would look at me as if she had a question about my apple story, I would leave before she had a chance to ask anything. From that day, Boris and I sort of got bonded with all of those kids and our fighting stopped. We became very good friends. This was to be one of my greatest lessons. Stalin tried to make his own peoples hate each other.  By instinct we didn’t have to let him have it his way. I miss those kids and that time in my life to this day. It’s all still a part of me. I have now been away from the land of my birth for more than sixty years. I am an American and extremely proud of that. But I still feel that I am also Ukrainian, Polish—and even Russian. I speak all three languages. I sometimes reminisce, strumming on my guitar some of the beautiful melodies of my former country’s songs, such as “Dark Eyes.”




“Ochyi Chorniye” in Russian


Dark entrancing eyes, dark as Russian skies

                        Tell me why you crave me to be your slave

   Though my heart rebels, still your charm


                        I cannot say no Led on by your glow

                        I go on like a slave to your dark eyes brave

                        And I am once more by the Volga shore

                        Crying out my love to the stars above

                        Giving all my sighs to your brave Dark Eyes.


June 1938 the Second Deportation of Jozef
to Siberian Prison

I was seven years old


   One-day father brought home a baby kitten and puppy dog. Somebody at work had given them to him for me. I was thrilled to get little playmates! I named the puppy “Sharyik” and the kitten “Brother.” (I didn’t know Brother was a girl.) They were adorable, always playing and attacking each other. My Father had made me a little stool with a hole in the middle so that I could carry it around, Sharyik would hop on top of the stool while Brother would lie on her back underneath the stool and stick her paw up through the hole at Sharyik, they had a great time together and so did I. But one day Sharyik was outside romping around when he was attacked and bitten by a mad dog. The neighbors reported the dog to the police, and the police came to my house. They told me that mad dogs hurt dogs and people because they’re sick, and there’s no way to make them better. They told me that Sharyik would become sick too, so they had to take him away. I had no choice. Mother held me while I cried as the police took Sharyik away. She tried to cover my ears, but I heard the gunshot down the street. I suddenly really knew what it meant to lose something I loved. A couple months later I was outside playing with Boris and all of the other kids. It was right after a big rain, and there were many big water puddles. We were pretending we were riding on a horse with a stick between our legs galloping through those puddles as fast as we could run. As I saw my father walking home from work I was anxious to go home and play with him or listen to some stories. Then we saw a Tachanka (a horse carriage), pulled by a pair of horses, turning into my yard. I remember getting a knot in my stomach. This looked too official to be friendly. The driver sat in the front, and two men were in the back seat. They were armed. The two-armed men got out of the carriage and went to the door. My mother let them in. They told Nina to pack an extra change of clothes; “Jozef Przegalinski will be going with us.” With no more said than that, they got into the Tachanka and drove away. It was the last time that I saw my father. One of the kids said, “I think your father just got arrested.” Another kid said, “For what?” I wasn’t listening. I ran to the chata. My mother was just coming out looking for me. Nina always embraced me when I came home but this time she was trembling and crying. I felt hopeless. We sat outside. Nina was shaking, not saying anything. I asked her if that was the police. She said, “NKVD.” Then, in a comforting way, she added “Those men said that he would be back in few days.” Neither of us believed that statement.











Nina was convinced that Adam Halicki’s wife, Felka, turned my father in to the NKVD. Adam and his wife had a tense relationship. Felka was not a good housekeeper and Adam was not good at keeping his criticisms to himself. He always told her how neat and clean Nina’s house was always kept. That constant critique, combined with something mother called Felka’s natural “instability,” may have been more than she could handle. Mother even said later that Adam had told Felka more than once that if she told anyone about Jozef he would personally kill her. I don’t think anyone ever knew for sure who turned my father in but I do know whom mother blamed for the rest of her life.

Weeks passed with no word. Each day I would come home from school to find mother alone. When I started to apply the skills that my father had taught me, such as gathering dry weeds and wood stumps for the winter, I finally began to realize that I, not yet eight, was now the man of the house. Before I was always just helping my father. Now I was on my own. Taking advantage of being alone in the fields I could cry all I wanted to cry, and I did. Sometimes I would look in the direction of our chata, looking for my father as he used to meet me on some digging site and help me. I missed him terribly. Finally my mother managed to track him down. She took the train to Dniepropetrovsk, some ninety miles south of Petropavlovka, where my father was being held temporarily before being shipped to Siberia. When she inquired at the front desk why they had arrested Jozef Przegalinski, the commissar simply told her, “You know why,” and slammed the window in her face. A lady, who worked there overhearing this, came to my mother and told her quietly that she would give her a chance to see her husband. She had to come back to her chata next to the prison at a certain time of the day when he would be let out in the exercise yard. Mother returned at the time she was told and saw my father laying on a small grass hill supporting his upper body with his right elbow facing directly my Mother. But she could not speak to him or even make her presence known. This was the last time she ever saw her husband. It was during that long ride back to Petropavlovka and the two-mile walk home from the railroad station that the grim realization slowly sank into my mother that she would now have to raise her eight-year-old son by herself. That was all, there was nobody to appeal to and nothing that could be done. It was late that night when she finally arrived at home to find me sleeping soundly outside, having dozed off while waiting for her to return.













Life without Father


   Like I said earlier, mother had strength inside her and she wasn’t yet that far removed from the willful, independent girl she had once been. The day after she got back, she found a job as a cook at a restaurant that catered to government officials. But in only a few days a party official demanded that she be dismissed immediately because Josef had been deported. He reasoned that Nina could, out of anger, poison every person in the office. We had become pariahs. On the way home that evening, passing the village hospital, she took a chance to see if any jobs might be available there. The night watchman, Baty’ko as he was called (meaning “father” in Ukrainian), recognized her and opened the gate to let her into the hospital. She related her request to the head nurse, who told her to wait. A tall man with a kindly smile approached, and the nurse introduced him as Dr. Yazura. When my mother told him why she had just lost her former job, and that she was trying to raise me, Dr. Yazura shook his head with disgust and said, “A wife should not be responsible for her husband.” He not only offered her a job but he told the watchman to go to the kitchen and get some food for her to take home for us. During the privacy of her walk home she offered a prayer of thanks for the kindness she had received. At first her tasks weren’t specific. Dr. Yazura was just a good man who was determined to help out someone in need. So for the first few days Nina was sent around to where she was needed most, cleaning, taking care of patients, whatever. But soon she was taking charge of the patients’ diets, making sure the kitchen prepared the best things for each person. She even stepped in to cook on days when the cook was out sick. She was a very loving and compassionate woman, helpful qualities in a place for the sick and dying. Late one evening Nina was on duty making rounds of the patients. She saw a high-ranking commissar come down the hall. It was strictly prohibited for visitors to come after hours and Nina was respectful of the rules. So she told this senior Communist officer apologetically but boldly that he wouldn’t be able to see anybody that evening. The Commissar disobeyed her, saying he had traveled quite far and would just peek in for a second to see his father. He didn’t give her a chance to argue as he pushed past her. After he peeked at his father through the door for a minute or

So, he at least said “thank you” to Nina on his way out. Always truthful, she wrote everything that happened into her report at the end of her shift. Then she spent the next several days worried about losing her job either because she had













let a visitor past her at a restricted time or, on the other hand, because she had tried to stop a commissar from seeing his father. So when Dr. Yazura called her one-day and said, “Nina, you have a phone call in my office, from the daughter of Ivan Pashchenko the patient, [the father of that commissar],” she was terrified. But the female voice on the other end told her wonderful news instead. “My name is Nyusia. My brother tells me you are taking care of my father. I want to express our appreciation.” She then asked if Nina was in need of a heavy winter coat for the coming winter. Nina said yes [she must have mentioned it in passing to Ivan Pashchenko one day while talking with him, and he told his daughter]. Nyusia told her that she was the general manager of the government store; that Nina should go there at a specific day and time where there would be something special for her. Nina went to the store when she was asked to and stood in the huge line that everybody always stood in at Soviet stores—200 people trying to get the last 10 items on the shelf. But one of the attendants picked her out of the line and brought her inside. Nyusia was there to greet her. She thanked Nina again for being so good to her father, and gave her one of the three remaining coats at half price—and let Nina pay for it a little at a time. Nina had her first real winter coat since she was a girl.


The New Man of the House


   Mother made friends quickly at her new job. Although our living quarters were limited she rented out half of the remaining room for extra income to three student nurses, Halya, Shura, and Marusyia, who also helped to look after little “Toliya” (me). I liked their company very much; we became very close friends. This was a tremendous uplift for my mother; not only did it help to keep food on the table and take care of me, but their company helped to soothe her sorrow. At the age of eight, I was a young handyman thanks to my father. My earliest accomplishment was to build an outhouse out of sunflower stalks, mud, and thatch roof. (Digging for stumps, I was already good at digging holes.) I also learned gardening from my mother. I would help her till the soil by hand with the shovel. Later, Baty’ko, from the Hospital—bless his heart—began coming over with a team of horses and would plow the garden in minutes. In season we lived off the garden. I learned a lot. I would dig with my hand underneath a potato bush and feel for the larger ones, letting the smaller potatoes grow bigger. It was fun to find a cucumber under the leaf; it seemed…

as if they played hide and seek with me. With radishes one could see that they were ready to be plucked out when they got pretty and colorful and a huge, juicy tomato could often be found hidden on the other side of a bunch of leaves. I found it exhilarating to discover the magic of a garden. I would brush the dirt off a freshly plucked vegetable with my clothes, and then I’d sit or lie on my side between the rows and munch on a veggie or two in the early evening. Sometimes that was the best meal of the day. The evenings were often spent singing Russian and Ukrainian songs with mother and the nurses, or in welcome conversation, or telling stories. You didn’t need radio, or even electricity, when you had good friends. Workers, coming home from the fields, would hear the singing and they would stop by the chata. Sometimes the entire village would burst into song. Those days, too, were happy in their way. My father was gone and that was a terrible ache, especially for my mother; but she was not one to dwell on what could not be changed. There was much to keep her busy with her new work—which she loved—and with our nurse companions and with me. And truthfully, in a small way, my father was still there. The things that he had taught me served us in good stead. I knew how to keep our little house together, and I knew how to find fuel to keep us warm in the winter. And most importantly, I learned from stories of his courage and craftiness how to be creative to keep us fed. If I wasn’t gardening, I was foraging. When the wheat was being harvested, I would go to the fields and gather the loose grain from the ground. I would fashion a makeshift bag from my shirt to bring it home, and then I would grind it between two smooth stones as my father had shown me. The resulting coarse grain I would mix with water to make a sort of rude pancake, which I would bake it on the oven top. These I would have ready when my mother came home from her long workday.


A tribute to All Mothers:

The Builders of Our Character


   My mother Nina was highly devoted and got her strength from her faith in God. All of her waking hours she was constantly a living example of nurturing, never wavering from her principles and her character, and she was trusted and admired by everyone. Is it any wonder that we survived through all of those dark and treacherous years? Our mothers are the unsung heroes, the glue of the family, and to a larger degree are responsible for our character. Only now am I beginning to appreciate my heritage and her unconditional caring through all of those tough yet loving years.























Getting Street Smart while Growing Up

   As the son of a landowner (Kulak) my Father was deported to Siberia by Stalin’s NKVD (PEOPLES COMMISSARIAT INTERNAL AFFAIRS) later to be known as the KGB (COMMITTEE OF STATE SECURITY) I had to grow up fast.


Do not remember the school I went to in the Soviet Union, the class, or the teacher; it must have been my first year in school in Petropavlovka near Pavlograd, Southern Ukraine. Only remembering, my walking to school and having to fight the kids that wanted to take my small and meager lunch away from me and sometimes they did, but not without a fight. At the beginning I got beat up and did not care much about the school for the rest of the day because I was mad and hungry. I never told my mother or the teacher because whatever else they called me, I did not want to be called a crybaby. Somehow I knew that I had to do it myself. One day as usual, two kids approached me and were smarting off. The bigger kid was right in my face. I went right for the big kid’s diaphragm because I knew from experience that’s where it hurts the most. The rib cage was so convenient for my left fist while he was leaning forward and the fight was over in a heartbeat. The other kid ran away as I continued on my way to school uninterrupted. I knew that I was not going to be hungry that day and I knew that I was going to be in control of my life. Looking back, I was feeling good with who I was. Later on, a Jewish family moved into our neighborhood and I teamed up with their son, Boris. He too, was not quite accepted among the kids for being Jewish. Now, I had a partner and not too many fights. Boris was an excellent partner in crime. When we were alone in the long afternoons after school, we sometimes pooled our survival efforts and sometimes we just liked to make a little mischief. We would sneak into the neighbor’s orchards and pick as many apples as we could carry in our shirts. We got quite good at avoiding the dogs. Afraid to be seen bringing our loot home, we went instead to a nearby sand dunes. There we would sit together in the late afternoon sun and eat as many apples as we could. The rest we would bury there in the sand to be spirited home in our clothes a few at a time. In the end we all became good friends raiding apple orchids together. It was lots of fun in growing up and becoming street smart and that is a lesson only learned in retrospect. I will always miss those kids.













“Watermelons after the Sunset”


   But sometimes I pushed things too far. There was a large vegetable field on the collective across the River Samara about a mile from our chata. During the harvest times I would swim the river and gather whatever vegetables were to be had; sometimes tomatoes, other times carrots or cucumbers—whatever were ripening at the time. The river was cold and wide, and the current was strong. But I felt that whatever I could bring home would be a help to mother. Sometimes I would swim with a watermelon under my chest to keep me afloat, and sometimes I got really greedy and would push another watermelon along ahead of me while I was swimming. All of this I had to do without mother’s knowledge of course. She would be horrified to know that I was swimming across that river; she would have never let me do it. Whenever she asked where I had gotten something I would say, “It’s a secret. He told me not to tell you.” And mother would smile and say, “And you want to protect your friend, don’t you?” thinking it was from my friends garden. I would say yes, and walk away from the conversation hoping that that was the last question. Usually it was. My raids had to be done in the evening so I would not be seen by anyone. One evening in late autumn while swimming back, hugging a watermelon to my chest and holding a small sack of potatoes with my teeth, the river was frigidly cold. Halfway across I suddenly got very tired and I noticed I could not move my legs. I started flailing my arms trying to stay above water. There was no moon and I couldn’t see how close I was to the shore. I started to panic. All I could think about was my mother—how, if I drowned, she would get mad at me! I managed to make a little headway, but then my strength gave out. It was like jagged icy fingers were crawling up my legs sucking the life from them. I clutched the watermelon to stay afloat, but my limp legs lowered under me—and dragged against the riverbed! I was close to the shore! I found the strength to put one foot in front of the other, and somehow dragged myself to the edge of the river. In the process I lost my potatoes and I was so tired that I had to leave the watermelon—my makeshift life-preserver—at the shore until the next day. That was the last time I swam that river. The garden, the wheat and the apples would have to be enough.


This was the fifth time that I survived by the Grace of God.


When my lower body got numb, I lost my sense of direction I was scared. Thank God I was at the shore by now. I could feel my legs were dragging. With my hands, I crawled onto the shore. Again, too close for this book not being in existence today. 








1939, Tadeusz fell in love with a nurse at eight.

Her name was Sonia Artyiomovna

He was destined to marry June a nurse 29 years later.


   One day after school, I got a terrible pain in my stomach on the lower right side. Thank God two of the nurses were home and they were getting ready to go to the hospital to work. They took me to the hospital, and my mother stayed with me overnight. Doctor Yazura decided to operate on me for appendicitis, but did not tell Nina. In fact, he didn’t want her to be around at all during my operation because he knew she would be worried sick. So he told her to go home because the hospital was going to drop off a wagon full of hay for our Zuchka, the cow. She obeyed. Once she had left the hospital the doctor told the wagon drivers to take their time getting there and unloading the hay. By the time Nina came back to the hospital I was in a recovery room. An operating nurse, a friend of Nina’s, had assisted Dr. Yazura during the operation. I was just a boy but that did not stop me from falling in love. Her name was Sonia Artyiomovna. Growing up I was blessed to be surrounded by the love of many nurses. I think all of that love and kindness healed me. (Now, I have been married to a nurse now for over thirty years. Wanting to be honest at all times, of course, my friends would call to ask what I was doing and I would tell them that I am in bed with a nurse, and not only with a nurse, but also with a former nun! Laughter and as much fun as one can put together during the day, makes on healthy and young. My Mom used to tell me that I inherited my sense of humor from my Father. In company, he was always humorous. Before long I was up and around stealing fruit and making mischief again! I think back on that time, when so much oppression happened to my family and my country. The funny thing is, what stands out most for me are the little daily acts of love, kindness and courage that surrounded us. After I recovered, my mother threw herself into her work at the hospital with heart and soul. The hospital had an appreciation sign-in book where the patients could name the staff person they preferred most. The hospital was allotted one vacation for the entire staff per year so whoever got the most votes in this book, plus other considerations such as the vote of the staff, would get just this one ticket for a two-week vacation to a government resort near Dniepropetrovsk.














Nina was the most appreciated not only by the patients but also by the entire staff. On June 8, 1941, a commission of senior staff people elected Nina to get the vacation she was the newest employee of only three years and some of the others had been there twenty-five years or so. But she was the most loved. Baty’ko, the watchman, harnessed the horses to the Tachanka and took her to the railroad station where she boarded the train that took her to Dniepropetrovsk to the resort. At age thirty-one Nina was about to begin the first vacation of her life. All of the guests at the resort were either government officials or persons like Nina who had earned the right to be there. Food, saunas, massages, and walks through the woods were all standard fare. For the first time in many years she actually put on weight. Those two weeks passed all too quickly but the memories stayed with her forever. She would also forever remember her last day there. Even as she was boarding the train home, on June 22, 1941, her quiet idyll was shattered. The sudden blaring of loudspeakers informed them of the news: Germany had invaded Russia!



                                                                                                                                     Galin’s Library


Captured German War Equipment 1943

Mechanized Artillery of the Wehrmacht, front view.




The Early Months


   The early Russian losses were horrendous. Germany invaded the Soviet Union with 3-million men and 3,350 tanks. The Wehrmacht was highly mechanized and organized; they rolled over everything in its path. It met with virtually no opposition on its way to Moscow destroying 1,200 airplanes on the ground in the first hours. Retreating Russian Forces burned everything behind them, leaving nothing for the Germans. It was here that Hitler made what would eventually prove a fatal mistake. Taking Moscow was the key to German success at that time and not later, because later never came. The Soviet Army, in disarray over a vast front of over 2000 miles, did not have the time to regroup. Moscow’s defenses conceivably would have been overrun if Hitler’s micromanagement had not slowed down the German offensive on Moscow. Had he rather pushed the assault on the capital at full strength, leaving Stalingrad to be dealt with later? Taking Moscow and Leningrad would have put German Forces in a strategic and psychological winning position. Seizing a good stretch of the Trans-Siberian Railroad east of Moscow that led beyond the Ural Mountains, denying the Russians to dismantle factories and transport it beyond the Ural Mountains and beyond Hitler’s reach. This would have stopped Russia from producing most of its war supporting equipment. Most of the T-34 Tanks and Katyusha, Truck-Mounted Rocket launchers, Josef Stalin affectionately nicknamed it “Katyusha”— after a Russian song and a girl named Katyusha. it was an awesome weapon. The German Forces totally feared and despised Stalin’s Katyusha rocket launcher and named it the “Stalin’s Organ.” Somewhere around 61,000 of these T-34 Tanks were produced. This City was affectionately called Tankograd. But Hitler missed this opportunity. The siege of Leningrad lasted 900 days, close to 1,000,000 killed, frozen or starved to dead.    




















                                                                                                                  Galin’s Library                                                              

Für den Pressegebrauch (For Press Release)

 October 15, 1941. German Forces fighting for the small Soviet city of Wjasma on the road to Moscow with Shtuka bombers supporting our fighting machine in pursuit of the Soviet Forces” This picture reminds me of my house and our village being set on fire.


   In mid-summer of 1942 Stalin, was in control of all the front lines. Before the winter German troops were fifty miles from Moscow. Stalin moved his Head Quarters to Kuybyshev, some 500 miles east of Moscow, on the river Volga. All the factories were shipped to the City of Chelyabinsk behind the Ural Mountains via the Trans Siberian Railways. This was beyond Hitler’s reach. These Russian resources proved to be devastating to the German Reich. The heavy fighting continued on other fronts—(at Leningrad, now St. Petersburg, the sedge lasted 900 days almost 1,000,000 died.) Smolensk, Rostov, and Sevastopol. December 1941 was one of Russia’s hardest winters on record. German troops under Field Marshal von Bock near Moscow were snowed in. These Russian winter battles were tough; especially for the Germans who did not have winter combat gear and clothing, and that unprepared ness was due to Hitler’s over confident belief that Moscow would be conquered before the onset of winter. Field Marshal Von Bock asked Hitler for permission…












to withdraw his forces to rear defensive positions but Hitler refused. Von Bock disobeyed the order and retreated anyway. “In the battle for Smolensk alone, by July, 16 1941, which was 250 miles from Moscow, Army Group Center had captured about 580,000 men and 4,700 tanks.” Later Hitler relieved Field Marshal Von Bock from his Command and called Bock’s retreat an establishment of a better defensive position. Hitler could not stomach the word-retreat. Similarly, in Stalingrad in January 1943, General Paulus asked Hitler for permission to retreat to prevent his entire 6th Army from being encircled by the Russian Forces. Hitler refused, Paulus obeyed. Hitler promoted General Paulus to a Field Marshal and told him that never in German history a field Marshall ever surrendered. On January 31, 1943, twenty days later, Field Marshal Paulus was encircled and taken prisoner along with twenty of his Generals and his entire German 6th Army. German Forces never recovered from these losses. When Hitler relieved his Chief of Staff Von Braushitsch, Hitler was in total command—again one of Hitler’s strategic blunders. By the time the German Forces Spearheaded by 3rd SS skeleton head of Panzer Divisions began advancing on Moscow again, the Soviet forces had gotten entrenched in the cities and the approaches. By November 1941 the Germans were stalled 12 miles just outside Moscow. The assault bogged down again as the fabled Russian winter of -20º descended on the land. This is reminiscent of Napoleon Bonaparte’s failure when he ventured to conquer Moscow and Russia some 130 years before. Stalin gave the Moscow Command to General Georgi Zhukov, the most able General in the Soviet Forces He proved himself in the defense of Moscow and Stalingrad. Later Stalin promoted him to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Department of Defense. This also gave the Soviets time to ship some forty divisions of hard core winter troops from Siberia and from the Soviet-China borders, all transported on the Trans-Siberian Railroad. These troops were hard-core winter fighters with the newest Russian built T-34’s tanks and Katyusha truck-mounted rocket launchers built deep in Eastern Russia where the German Luftwaffe (air force) could not reach them. The industrial city of Chelyabinsk in the southern Urals was nicknamed Tankograd during the war years. Now the Soviet Forces had begun their counter-assault along the 2000-mile front line. At the very beginning of the German onslaught Hitler laid out a strategy, a three-pronged attack against the Russian heartland. Leningrad, (Saint Petersburg) and Moscow to the north; Smolensk and Kursk to the center; Sevastopol, Stalingrad, and the Caucasus to the south. Petropavlovka, my village, stood right in the path of the southern assault. The day the German Panzers rumbled into our village with their tanks and infantry I knew my life was going to change.


                                                                                 ART RENDERING



1942 German troops on the road to Stalingrad Hitler committed 500,000

Men for the battle of Stalingrad January 31, 1943 he lost the battle and over half of his best fighting force To the Russian Forces. 




                                                                                                                          ART RENDERING

The road to Stalingrad

And through my village of Petropavlovka in Southern Ukraine.

My house upper row first from the left with a direct hit by

Russian mortar directly under the window as it is shown

On the cover page.

August 23 1942 the Battle for Stalingrad began.

                                                                                                         GALINS LIBRARY


Captured German War Equipment in 1943


   It was terrifying. The Soviets tried to hold our Village but they were no match for the tank bombardment. Unfortunately we did not have a basement. I remember lying on the floor of our chata huddled with my mother when the explosions started. They were so loud and coming from all over the place. We felt that any one of these explosions would be the last one for us. I had my ear pressed to the ground listening to the earth rumbling and the squeal of tank tracks turning as they advanced on our snow-covered street. When finally there was a break in the fighting I went to the window because I just had to see what was going on. There on our street where I walked and played with my friends every day I saw German Panzers (tanks) with their commanders peering out from turrets, black uniforms with helmeted and radio headsets on their heads. That’s not something you ever want to see outside your window.













Fighting started again, and one of the tanks started turning its turret. It looked like it was turning toward our house! I got really scared, ran to mother, and hit the floor but we weren’t shelled. I kept hearing explosions outside, some near and some far away. But in the end the tanks rumbled off past our house. We had made it through the attack and only a couple windows had been broken from the explosions. The Partisans had been killed, or run off, and now Petropavlovka was crawling with soldiers of the Wehrmacht. In time most would go off toward Stalingrad leaving just a small contingent in town as an outpost. Surprisingly, the Germans were friendly enough during this opening siege. Over the next few months as winter descended on us, the horrors we had heard from the locals were confirmed. It seemed like the fighting was further north of us. For now no one was shooting. One-day two young German soldiers, who could not have been over nineteen, came to our house with a live chicken and told Nina to cook it for them. Of course there was no choice but to do it. In return in the face of such mayhem they shared their meal with us when they left in panic, which was our firs meal in months. Nina was trying to explain to them through a big language barrier that they were too young to be away from their mamas. Understanding the word “Mama,” they pulled out their wallets and started to show pictures with great joy. It was a strange moment, beautiful in its absurdity. Our enjoyment was short-lived. Even as we ate gunfire erupted. Without finishing their meal in panic our impromptu guests left through our only entrance with out their weapons to join their comrades. In looking back I feel very strongly that two factors saved those two young German soldiers: one, our only door was facing south; it was not in the view of the partisans and two, they were not armed and had to run, or I should say, they crawled on their bellies through the deep snow without a fighting. Later we were able to piece together what had happened. The Germans had occupied a large warehouse in the sand dunes on the western edge of town, which they were making their headquarters. A small group of Russian Partisans had attacked and retaken the east side of town and were fighting through the village to get at the headquarters—and they succeeded. Our neighbor Masha knew the Partisans and led them to the small German rearguard in the village center where they could mow down the Germans. But at that moment nobody knew what was going on. Nina and I ran to the window that was facing to the north where we saw two German soldiers shooting at a group of Partisans who were trying to make their way to the west side. They were quickly shot—one running and the other on his knees begging for mercy. He got none.









                                                                                                                   GALINS LIBRARY


December 11, 1941. Right to left: First Row: Hitler, Ribbentrop,

Raeder and Keitel. Second Row: Darre, unknown, Seldte, Frank.

Occasion: Declaration of War against the United States of America


   Hitler invades Russia on June 22, 1941 six months later Hitler declares war on the United States of America. Winter 1941-2. On about the same time Partisans launched an attack to retake my village of Petropavlovka from the Germans. By declaring war on the United States of America, Hitler just committed another blunder that enabled us to escape the Stalin’s terror and ultimately Hitler himself. There were several ways for the war to end; “BUT THE HITLERS BLUNDERS CHANGED EVERYTHING FOR THE BETTER. I CAN SEE IT CLEARLY NOW. WITH EVERY HITLERS BLUNDER WE WERE GETTING CLOSER TO ESCAPE TO FREEDOM”.


                                                                                                                    GALINS LIBRARY


German Heavy machine guns like this far outmatched the light arms the Russian Partisans had to defend and than retake our village with, than lose it again to the Germans. 1942 this is when we, Mother and I were under the gun taken by the German Army as Nazi laborers.


   Winter 1941-2. If you’ve never seen a man shot and killed in front of you—and I hope that you never do—then you can’t know what a wretched feeling that is. However, as an eleven-year-old boy at that particular moment when one is in total fear, helpless and totally disarmed from rendering any help to any one. There are no feelings for another person, dead or alive, only where to hide and how to survive. There is too much commotion and everything is happening too fast. Only later, and for the rest of your life, these scenes will present themselves without invitation and in slow motion when you are at relative peace: Dead German soldiers and Russian Partisans strewn around in crimson contrast against the two-to-three feet of white snow. Inevitably I begin to think of their mothers and the loved ones who will wait for years in vain for their return. The Partisans’ mission was to kill and destroy. Their very survival depended on hit-and-run tactics. Mercy and taking prisoners were not viable options if they were to be successful. The two German soldiers who were in our chata had run outside to join their comrades without finishing their meal and had left the door open. In a little while one of the Partisans shouted, “Are there any more German soldiers in your house?” I screamed back, “No, there are none!” He came to the door and asked me again, dangerously, “No German soldiers? Or weapons”? Shaking, I said “No” again only the rifles they left He looked big to me and raged he grabbed the two weapons grunted and ran off to join the fight. Fighting continued as the Germans were dug in. But in less than an hour all of the German soldiers at the warehouse were killed. No prisoners were taken. A few miles southwest of Petropavlovka a Wehrmacht tank contingent was told of the assault by a few of the German soldiers who had escaped the village. Though the snow was incredibly deep, they lumbered down the roads and came into Petropavlovka bent on revenge. I stared through the south facing window as several of them lurched down the street. One of them stopped only about fifty feet away from our house. It turned its turret to face the warehouse down the street that was now occupied by the Partisans. Soon it was blasting shells into the building, shaking the ground each time and making a terrible roar that echoed off the buildings around it. A fierce battle took place. The Germans concentrated their firepower on the dunes around the warehouse and the Russian Partisans returned fire with heavy mortar (Minimiyot) bombardment. My mother and I were cowering in the bedroom against the bake oven corner which faced the incoming Russian shells. Suddenly there was a loud thud, and a cloud of dust burst into the room. As the dust cleared we saw that a mortar round the size of a piglet had landed on the dirt floor close to my left foot in our bedroom within arms reach to my left as (Saved 6th time) Mom and I held each other tight, praying moment-to moment before the explosion. But the room remained eerily silent. The mortar didn’t explode. Only sheer luck, which seemed to run with us even in our darkest days of desperation, saved us time and again. We couldn’t get out of our chata fast enough. Our neighbor Myishchanko took us in and helped Nina and me repair the front wall after the German Troops removed the Russian unexploded mortar round. Our house had taken a direct hit from a Soviet mortar intended for the tank that was parked next to our chata and had landed next to my left foot. The entire front wall below the window was gone, now just a pile of rubble in our living room. The dirty snow bank outside had also collapsed into the room and dust was heavy in the air, but we were still alive.(Again, Our food cellar comes to mind) it would have been much safer. “I knew, once again, that angels were watching over us,” my mother told Anne and me, a half-century later. It wasn’t long before more German tanks rolled into Petropavlovka. The Partisans either fled or were killed and the Germans reclaimed the village. Two German soldiers came toward our house. They rapped loudly on the window and demanded to know if there were any Russian Partisans in the house. Terrified again I shook my head said no and that was all. They left without coming in. Earlier, before the German tanks arrived, Masha and Tosyia with others had gone to the edge of town to notify more Partisans of the Germans. One woman walked into the hospital where a Russian doctor was attending a critically wounded German soldier. She ran out of the hospital and told one of the Partisans with horror that “one of our own doctors is saving a Nazi!” The Partisan ran into the hospital and opened fire on the doctor and the wounded German soldier. My God, It was a doctor, sworn by oath and by human decency to help the injured and now he was dead! I’ve had all these years of reflection and I still don’t know who the good guys were in those days. When the Germans occupied Petropavlovka again they rounded up all of the people, about twenty of them, who had alerted the Partisans of the whereabouts of the German soldiers. Included were Masha and the lady Tosyia who had told the Partisan (underground resistance) about the doctor and his wounded German soldier, most of them were women. They were shot in my village square  loaded on a two horse-drawn sled whit two driver men, frozen stiff some feet and hands sticking up in the air with their hair dragging on the packed snow. I watched take them past my house window ART WORK from the holocaust picture below to be rendered with winter clothing on and inserted! HERE Into the dunes cemetery, where they were dumped into the snow bank. Petropavlovka was back in German hands after the executions now the town fell into a horrible silence. The relatives of those who were shot found the mayor and asked him if they could bury the dead. The mayor told them to go to the German commandant and ask him. Bravely, they did. The commandant told them that as long as the bodies were frozen, there was no reason to bury them. He then agreed that before spring thawed the bodies they would be allowed to bury them; but for the time being, they would stay in view, as a reminder for all! The two German soldiers that had fled our chata came back several weeks later and told us their incredible story of how they survived since they were not armed and could not defend themselves. Out the door they hit the snow on their bellies and crawled straight towards the dunes to the southwest. It was obvious they had recovered from the cold and frostbite. They told us how they crawled on their stomachs for about a mile-and-a-half and were recovered as they were attempting to explain this all with one of their bayonets on our dirt floor, for this time they were armed. I only later understood that these were the same two German soldiers that notified the German Tank contingent of the Partisan counter-attack, which came and decimated the Partisans.


                                                                         Holocaust-Picture from Jewish Archives

A chilling resemblance, from this Scene the art work will be rendered with sled and horses as I saw it from my window on a freezing Russian winter day some

67 years ago!


1943-1944 winter, German Soldiers Executed some 20 locals mostly women on my Village Square in Petropavlovka as informers to the Partisans


It was deep into the Russian winter 3 feet and more of white valleys and hills. On any other day it would have been a beautiful Russian winter day. We were right in the middle of it all. The fight between the Russian underground Partisans and German forces. The Russian mortar round intended for the German tank sitting right next to our house was a direct hit into our one room house, landing next to my left foot and lay there unexploded like a small piglet. This time I believe that God himself was there to make sure that I will write this book. This was the sixth time; again by the grace of God we were spared.


God was there


I finally figured it out; I had to have been anointed by God when I was born in 1930 to have been saved 17 times before I was eighteen years old. In 1929 when my Father Josef was standing in line and refused to join the Bolshevik Party 75 men after him also refused to join. This was the beginning my Father was the first to be arrested at night and sent to Siberian Gulag. My Mother was pregnant three with me; her doctor a family friend gave her a certificate that she was six months in her pregnancy therefore, she was not sent to Siberia with my father. The doctor had his neck on the line; this was the #1 first time that my life was saved before I was born. Brother Pavel worked in City Hall  he forged 3 passports and cousin Michislaw with forged passports one for my father and 6,000 miles on Trans Siberian Train became prisoners them selves to pas the forged passport to Josef. They escaped first than Josef drove 6,000 miles under neath the railroad car. Now at home living on a bake oven brother Pavel comes to the house and informs Josef that the City Hall is preparing to send my Mother and me six months old to Siberia to join Josef in prison. Now before I was six months old I was saved second time. It is all predestined it just had to be. 1932-33 Ukrainian Famine I was two years old saved third time by my Mom Nina and Father Josef from starvation. At 7 in 1938 I swam across a river with stolen potatoes carrying in a shirt and a water melon after dark potatoes holding with my teeth laying on a watermelon and swimming back it was cold I lost my feeling in my feet and was drowning. This was forth time saved by God. Water melons after dark.





























1942 Nina and Son Labor Conscripted

By the German Transport Regiment Shtrahlo.


   In the springtime of 1942, the Germans began to tear up one of the railroads leading to Stalingrad to the north and to Dniepropetrovsk south so that a motorized army could travel deep into the Soviet territory. Rail beds were the only things resembling roadways in those days. When they began the road building, the local police and German soldiers went house-to-house conscripting locals into the labor force. There were no men left, only women. They came to our house and told Nina to report to work. There was no pay or food of any kind and it was backbreaking labor, to say the least. The conscripted women—my mother among them—spent long days ripping up iron rails and wading through deep mud, all the while wondering if and when a gun barrel would be leveled against the back of their heads. By late spring, most of the troops in the area had moved on toward the direction of Stalingrad (now Volgograd). However, a Transport Regiment, called SHTRALOH, moved in and set up its command post in our village hospital. This regiment would mark another change in our lives. The Regiment’s Commanding Officer was called by his rank only; Her Oberst (Colonel).The company commanding officer was, Feltfebel (Lieutenant) Edwin Klüwa, he asked the German commandant to summon the village mayor. Klüwa told the mayor to find him a middle-aged woman, clean, loyal, and who knew how to cook. The mayor went to the local butcher house and asked the butcher, Zmurenko, if he knew anyone that could fill the requirements. The only name that came to Zmurenko’s mind was Nina, who had a reputation for kindness and who was also an excellent cook. When the mayor came to our house neither one of us was home. One of our neighbors informed the mayor that my mother had been conscripted to dismantle the railroad. Shortly thereafter, my mother heard her name on the loud speaker: “Nina Przegalinska, report to the commandant immediately.” As she was walking toward the loud speaker, she saw the mayor standing with a German officer. She was petrified. As if dismantling a railroad was not bad enough, now what? The mayor said to her without any ceremony, “This is Feltfebel Klüwa. You now will work for him.” They told her to get in their car, and they took her to the German command at the hospital—the same hospital where Nina had worked for the past three years. When she was informed of her new responsibilities, this was Nina’s second conscription she had no choice. 

Nina would be under the direct command of Unter Oficier Klüwa. She was given her orders: she must feed the transport company, including ten German soldiers and twenty truckers. It would be a lot of work but not nearly as much as ripping up railroad ties. The mayor was responsible for supplying the produce from the collectives that Nina would cook to feed the company. Most of the truckers were conscripted Ukrainians, Russians, and Gypsies. There were also four Austrian men as German soldiers —Karl, Fonzy, Ludwig, and Otto—who the Germans hired with their private trucks and paid for their work. All in all, they all were big men with big appetites! Immediately, Nina was driven back home to round me up. At eleven years of age, I was considered old enough to be useful so I was conscripted too. I was boiling something on the stove, putting dinner together for mother before she got home from the railroad—not knowing yet all that had just happened. I saw a German truck pull up into our yard. Nina got out with two armed German soldiers behind her. I was scared; I knew they had come to pick me up. One of the soldiers came inside with Nina and the first thing she said to me was, “Don’t be frightened, Tolya.” She said to the soldier, Waniya, in Ukrainian, “This is my son, Tolya. “I am Waniya. You must come with us.” I wasn’t expecting to hear a German soldier speaking Ukrainian but I obeyed him. In a hurry Mother and I picked up a few belongings and left the house. Waniya drove us back to the hospital, now under German military command. When we arrived, two soldiers started walking toward us; a Sergeant in charge of the Company Noncom mission Officer (Unter Oficier Edwin Klüwa.) Klüwa was a short and stocky man, in his late 40’s, with somewhat of a respectable belly. In a way, my memory of the way he looked reminds me very much of the famous comedian Don Rickles. He carried a sidearm, and with his infantry hat perched just so, he looked sharp. His face had a ruddy complexion and had a puffiness that matched his belly. He looked like someone who was strict and disciplined but who also had a human heart and soul. The transport company that he was in charge of was not a combat fighting unit, so overall he was the right choice and had the leadership for this job. While this was not an easy assignment, he did have what it took to do the job especially since most of us were conscripts and there was a language barrier. When Nina introduced me to him as her son Tolya, he said to Nina that from now your son’s name would be Adolf. He greeted me curtly, I thought, and then told the two of us to get started on dinner. By 11:00 p.m. With me peeling the potatoes and mother cooking the dinner, the entire company had been fed. That night my mother and I slept exhausted on the kitchen floor. In the coming months, we lived, worked, and slept there, day after day, week after week, and month after month. This was now our living quarters. Mother gave the old chata to Tosyia, another single mother she knew, in return for a pair of winter boots. In the end, the boots served her better over the next few years than our house would have.

That was burned down by the retreating German Forces. We partitioned the space with several blankets to try to make it as home-like as possible. For the next three years I never slept in a bed, never ate at a dinner table and did not go to school. Nina would wake up at 2:00 a.m. each morning to start preparing the day’s meals. She would let me sleep until she was ready for me to work. Truthfully, my mother and I were more fortunate than most of the villagers. By working in the kitchen we at least had access to food for survival. Clothes, however, were another matter. We owned what we wore on our backs, which was precious little. Beyond that, we owned nothing. In order to have something to cover my body, we would take a potato sack, cut a slit up the middle, and with a little sewing—using the threads of the sack—we would make a pair of trousers. Most of the time my clothes were infested with lice.







There Where Other Embarrassing and Irritating Times

Lice Infested Living


   Even though my mother Nina was an excellent housekeeper, there is something to be said about an impoverished lifestyle with all of its nutritional deficiencies and living with lice. We had no running water or electricity and we knew when to go to bed—with the chickens. I remember sitting down on the floor, or anywhere else for that matter, picking lice out of the seams of my trousers or my shirt, killing them between my two thumb nails, squeezing them to death with my blood squirting all over my thumb nails. I had several boils on my body because of malnutrition and no band-aids or antiseptic. The open sores would stick to the shirt or trousers and dry and I tried not to pull them away because it would reopen wounds again. After my mother and I were conscripted as Nazi laborers by the Germans to work in the kitchen, our nutrition changed dramatically. We were told by Company Commanding Officer Klüwa not to ever speak the Polish language since the entire country of Poland went underground. The Germans, in particular the Klüwa himself, did not want the Regiment SHTRALOH and the High Command to know that we were Polish. Faced with the constant fear of being sent to a concentration camp was horrifying. Looking back, those would be some of my best years in accumulating a life’s personal library of skills and experiences, which has helped me to survive to this day. Today it gives me an insight glimpse as to why so many people have so many personal and other problems; they don’t have their own mental library to go to when in a need and when things are tough all around.

“Life itself, by far, is the best teacher”


   By now our captor was promoted to Feltfebel Klüwa, (Second Lieutenant) seeing my plight, he took one of his military topcoats and had it tailored into a uniform to fit me. Even this heavy German Wehrmacht uniform was no match for the terrible Ukrainian winter, but it was an improvement over potato sacks, to be sure. In my young life I had seen and met evil men, yet somehow I knew that Feltfebel Klüwa was not an evil man. Nevertheless, the officer’s kindness towards me was not innocent kindness. My mother, Nina, at this time thirty-one years of age, was exceptionally attractive with her long black hair that flowed past her waist and a gleam of pride and determination always in her eyes. She was a beautiful singer and a beautiful woman. She was spirited and she was independent and Feltfebel Klüwa was smitten. His feelings would later present Nina with a dramatic choice.


                                                                             GALIN, S LIBRARY


1935 Picture of Walther Darre and a hand shake from Hitler at the reception of “the Füh-rer,” Richsbauerntag in Buckeberg.


1932 Adolf Hitler rejected the post of vice chancellor of Germany saying he was prepared to hold out for all or nothing.

1933 March 23rd, Hitler became the Reich Chancellor of Germany.

1934: A plebiscite in Germany approved the vesting of sole executive power in Adolf Hitler.
















The journey that saved us from life in the Ukraine and communism on which Feltfebel Klüwa started Tadeusz Przegalinski, my mother Nina, and eventually my little sister Anneliese, who was fathered by Feltfebel Klüwa, a German Commanding Officer was providential. Klüwa gave Nina some choices under the gun. Nina and son to be shot or Concentration Camp proved to be only the first leg of an odyssey westward into a different culture and indeed a different world. The experiences, the changes, and the learning that occurred in the years between the moment that young boy took off his second-hand German uniform and the writing of this story seem hard to compress into one lifetime. It has been a strange journey and at times a harsh one. It has taught me well the values of freedom and independence that have made this country, for me, truly the land of opportunity. But as I think about it, the strangest part of it all is that the journey—from Stalin’s cruelties to here—might have never begun, were it not for Hitler’s madness.



                                             WITH PERMISSION FROM POLISH EMBASY NEW YORK

         My Mama Nina                                            The Black Madonna

                               On Jasna Gora  

                                (Mount of Light or Clarus Mons) pg.438                       


In1942 at the age of 32 during the German Occupation of the Soviet Union, my Mother Nina was conscripted by the German Army two times. First to work on the railroad, then, the second time by the Transport Regiment Shtralo as a Nazi laborers I was 11 years old. Nina was also fleeing with a baby child Anneliese during World War II almost ceaselessly praying to Madonna. Remembering that Madonna also was fleeing with a child, Jesus. This gave Nina courage to survive. During the Holy Week of 1430, the neighboring Hussites attacked the Pauline Monks who were forced to flee. One of the bandits slashed two times at the Madonna with his sword; the two slashes on the Madonna’s right face are also still visible today. Madonna’s History is on page 438 complete book 485 pgs. And on CD   coincidently, the right side of Nina’s face has also two scars. This is the only wartime picture of Nina. It was damaged by broken glass of the portrait during the final retreat and the hard years that followed.






God’s Stealthy Works:

 My life was saved when my Mother was three month pregnant with me and then again when I was six months old, total my life was saved seventeen times before I was eighteen years old. How God does his work!


The Mission: Dismantle and Confiscate


   The mission of this German transport company was to confiscate all food items, to dismantle factories, and to ship all usable materials and food essentials such as wheat, sunflower seeds, potatoes, etc., back to Germany. Through all of this I was kept busy. Besides helping my mother in the kitchen, I was also working on the trucks with mechanics and shining shoes for the German officers and soldiers. At the age of 13 I was also told to drive a truck when the unit was short-handed—that is, when one of the drivers had disappeared the night before. I remember the first time. One morning we were short one driver. Feltfebel Klüwa said to me, “Adolf, today you will drive that truck.” It was a two and a half-ton German Krupp, a real monster. Klüwa said, “Do not worry if you wreck it. We’d have to destroy it anyway since there is no other truck driver available.” So I did it. Soon I got good at driving. I was too light to push the clutch down, so I would get on the clutch with both feet. When it was down, I would reach back for the gear lever and shift the gear, then get off the clutch one foot at a time while moving at 20-30 mph. At first it was even kind of fun but it was a novelty that soon wore off. We were given two cigarettes a day as thanks. That was enough for me to start smoking but it was a novelty that took a little longer to wear off. I did finally quit smoking some eleven years later in Korea, when I was a twenty-three year old US Soldier. After I started driving, the truckers accepted me as one of them. Before this the drivers would always say, “Hey guys, watch what you say—Toliya is here.” But now, to them, I was a man—and one of them.

The Other Mission


   In the evenings some of the drivers, against orders, would stay out to do the town. Most of them spoke the local language so they wanted to find out things; especially what kind of women this town had to offer. They would return the following evening at the end of their mission, getting picked up by another driver and brought back so the Germans were unaware. This was an elaborate operation. Upon their return we would gather together and listen to their stories. It was about women, moonshine drinking, and more women. They let me join them when recounting their tales and I heard all of it—and I mean all of it! It was a shameless bunch. For a while I thought that truckers must be the pinnacles of virility. But these crude conversations did not last long. The discussions always switched to more serious topics. You see, in addition to sowing their oats the drivers were also getting information from the outside from local people and perhaps even from the Partisans. For whatever reason, this elite group of professionals accepted me into their confidence. An operation had been devised to get some of the wheat to the locals instead of taking it all to the railroad station to be shipped off to Germany. The Germans didn’t trust the drivers (with good reason), so the trucks were weighed after each trip. To circumvent this obstacle, we would unload one bag of wheat at a house then put a couple of boulders on the floor of the passenger seat that weighed approximately the same as the sack of wheat. We would cover it with an overcoat and some tools, pass the weight inspection with the boulder, then unload the boulder, fill the truck with wheat again, and repeat as much as we could. It was simple, and it worked! Looking back, it’s a lot more frightening now than it was then. If we had been caught it could have been instant death, depending on who caught us. There were many German soldiers in town that didn’t care much for the local people. By this time I understood the German language quite well and at times I did translate between these strange bedfellows, relating orders from commanders to truck drivers and vice-versa. I would also overhear the Germans of all ranks talking among themselves. They would say that England has to be fought, that winning the war with Britain was imperative for the German Reich, that the Eastern (Russian) Front was getting wobbly. The end of the year was actually very memorable for us because it was the first time Nina was free to put up a Christmas tree. Living in a proclaimed atheist state had meant no Christmas celebrations, no trees, no caroling. Mother, father, and I used to have a small celebration each year inside our chata with the shades closed, afraid of neighbors finding out and reporting us. Now virtually imprisoned by Germans—who happened to enjoy Weinachten (Christmas)—we were free to celebrate our faith. Still, it was a very somber quiet Christmas that year. The Soviet defenders were overwhelming the German forces on all fronts. Stalingrad was not doing well. It was becoming obvious that the Germans were in real trouble on their eastern front. We were loosing our conscript driver friends almost every week to the underground, what would that mean for us?

Early Evidence


   The “Hindenburg” zeppelin explosion exacerbated the tension between the United States and Germany. Already the Americans had banned sales of helium gas to the Germans for their zeppelin fleet, and when the “Hindenburg” approached the landing port in Lakehurst, New Jersey, on a high-profile propaganda mission of “German technological superiority”, the message from der Fuhrer was clearly designed to impart a sense of awe and to divide the sentiment of the American public. It worked for over two years after the start of the war, on 1 September 1939 with the invasion of Poland. On December 8, 1941. The Germans conducted an elaborate Nazi funeral in New Jersey for the victims and blamed the United States for the tragedy. The “Hindenburg” provided a sinister psychological edge during the 1936 Olympics in Berlin for German athletes as it hovered over the games.

This Nazi funeral was conducted on my 11th birthday December 8, 1941, just three days later December 11, 1941 Germany declared War on the United States of America.



                                                                                      GALINS LIBRARY


Funeral ceremony for the victims of the Zeppelin “Hindenburg”

on 19 May 1937 at the Hapag Pier on the Hudson River in New Jersey. Many Americans were very sympathetic to, and taken in by, Nazi propaganda. Captain Lehmann Von “Hamburg” gives the Nazi salute to the coffin of Captain Ernst A. Lehman’s the top airship pilot who had been along for a training mission. Even earlier in the war some of the German high command knew the predicament that Germany would be faced with just ahead of them. Rudolf Hess tried to ally Germany with the UK as fellow Nordic Nations against the Soviet Union.




















                                                                   GALINS LIBRARY


Frick, Darre, Rosenberg, Hess

The Rudolf Hess Mystery:

Unauthorized Secret Peace Mission to England May 10, 1941


   Rudolf Hess, on July 1st 1920, while listening to Adolf Hitler speak at a Nazi Party in a beer hall in Munich Germany, Hess, became the sixteenth member of the Nazi party. In 1939 Hitler named Hess his second successor after Herman Goring. Unbeknownst to the world, Hess made peace overtures to his counterpart in England, but Hess failed to be convincing that these overtures could either be realized or the conditions were not, for want of a better term, honorable. With no positive reply from the UK, apparently, Hess took this peace mission onto himself. He was reported to have declared that he was to present his plan to King George himself; after all, the royal family was German and had changed their family name from Hanover to Windsor in 1917 during World War I. The plan was that the UK and Germany would ally themselves against the Soviet Union. After consulting and some discussions with one of his most trusted officers, Hess took off alone for a destination that was only known to him alone in May 1941 in one of the earliest German jet fighter planes. After some five hours of flight on a dark night and some 900 miles later, Hess was over Scotland. He bailed out and gave himself up to a farmer after suffering a broken leg. Winston Churchill considered Hess as a prisoner of state and refused to talk to him. Hitler was enraged over Hess’s mission and declared Hess insane. In 1946 at the Nuremberg trial, Hess was sentenced to life in solitary confinement. He died in prison, either by suicide or murder, in 1987 at Spandau Prison in Berlin, never having shared a word with another person since his sentencing. As I read and study these historic events with intense and great personal interest, I am struck with apprehension and gratitude. 42 days later June 22, 1941 Hitler invades Russia.

Rudolf Hss Hitlers Henchman at Auschwitz.  His Daughter Brigitte Hse

Now 80 resides in seclusion in Virginia.   

This was the beginning of my survival for the next three years.  I wonder “what if”—if any of these events were changed in a different direction, and there were many of them, I would have never survived. However, thanks to Hitler’s myriad of blunders it was possible for me to survive and write this book. If Hss’s overtures had succeeded, or if von Stauffenberg’s bomb assassination on Hitler had succeed, or if any one of countless other circumstances had gone the other way, I would have not survived. As a Ukraine born from Polish ancestry serving, however involuntarily, in the thrall of the Germans, I would have had no chance of escaping death from any camp by which I was surrounded. The Germans would have killed me because of the accident of my birth. The Russians or Poles or other Slavic people would have killed me because of my involuntary servitude with the Germans. Because of my father, the Russians would certainly have sent my mother and me to the labor camps. It is only the fortuitous juncture of the German invasion of my village, our enslavement at their hands, our retreat from Soviet territory through eastern Europe, the overwhelming wave of American troops into Germany and the perspicacity of Feltfebel Klüwa to march into the American sector to surrender, and of course the blunders of Hitler, that allowed me to survive. The price for that survival however, weighs heavily on me; over 400,000 U.S. Troopers never returned home for so many others suffered and died. I feel that it was a destiny for me to go trough it all. Survive; learn the language, and than write this story. Come to think of it, it was a lot, but I didn’t know it than.

































August 23 1942 the Battle for Stalingrad began.


Our Retreat with our German captors. Escape Map and Route to Germany and then to Freedom


June, 1943 the beginning of our three year retreat. This red route on the map shows, the three prong invasion attack by Germany on the Soviet Union. From my Village of Petropavlovka that my Father fled to after his escape from Siberia. The yellow dot on the map lower center to green route to Hungary, then Poland, and on to surrender in Bavaria, Germany to the U.S. Forces.


                                                                                                                                   DRAWING BY AUTHOR

Russian-German Battle Map of the Soviet Union

July 5, 1943, six months later, after the Germans lost the battle for Stalingrad-extreme right,  began the biggest tank battle for the City of Kursk-pg. above  center in history, Russian and German tanks numbering somewhere over 5,000; Massive Air Power, tens of thousands artillery pieces on both sides. Hitler knew and told his Generals that on this battle, Germany’s future hinges.  By July 16th the Germans also lost this battle for Kursk) About the same time that summer, our H.Q. called “STRALO”, A TRANSPORT REGIMENT gave my Company the order for us to retreat from my Village of Petropavlovka located in Southern Ukraine about 150 miles Southeast from Kursk and about 300 miles West of Stalingrad and NE of the City of Dniepropetrovsk. The battle for Kursk about 150 miles west of my Village of Petropavlovka. For the next three years, we were in constant retreat. I was twelve years old.  Among all of the other things, to numerous to mention, 99.9% of the time baiting was not an option, it would never enter ones mind when you’re in a survival mode. In times like these, one really gets to appreciate God’s given life. Food, shelter, clothing and water, hot water too, the shower kind that is. I never had a shower until I was 14 years old in 1945 when we surrendered in Germany to the U.S. Forces.

                                      ART RENDERING


January 1943, Hitler promoted General Paulus to Field Marshal Hitler told the General that no Field Marshal in German Army ever surrendered. 30 days later Paulus surrendered on January 31 1943 to the Russian Forces at the battle for Stalingrad and became the first German Field Marshal to surrender.

At the end, total German losses, for Field Marshal Paulus at the battle for Stalingrad, 300,000 only 6,000 German soldiers ever returned home. Altogether at Stalingrad, the Red Army collected an enormous amount of armaments: over 709 planes, over 1,500 tanks, over 660 large guns, over 1,400 mortars, 8,110 machine guns, over 89,000 rifles, some 60,000 automobiles and trucks, over 7,300 motorcycles, some 470 traction engines and transporters, about 310 radio installation stations, 2 armored trains, And over 210 dumpsters of arms, supplies and ammunition. The Germans never recovered from these loses.   Field Marshal Paulus remained a Russian Prisoner Long after World War II. Released 1953 to only reside in communist East Germany. He died on February 1957. For us it was the beginning, an incredible three years of retreat with our captors to Germany and than to freedom.







With a total desire for peace and for avoiding unconditional

Surrender to the Allies, the German high Command resorted

To the highest treason against their Füh-rer. Assassination!


                                                                                                                                         GALINS LIBRARY


   On July 20, 1944, a courageous Conspirator Colonel Klaus Von Stauffenberg was trying to save his country Germany from devastation and from unconditional surrender to the Allied Forces. Colonel Klaus von Stauffenberg became the Assassin; his bomb laden briefcase caused this devastation inside of Hitler’s Headquarters in Rastenberg, Germany. Another Officer inadvertently moved the bomb laden briefcase out of his way away from Hitler and changed the history and my life with it. If Hitler had died, we would have never got out of Hungary. The immediate action of Joseph Göebbels against the conspirators is another dot that I can connect to my survival. Many of Hitler’s blunders also helped us to survive. As cruel and devastating as it was, some how, the road to freedom was constantly open, without us knowing it at that time. With all of Hitler’s blunders, miscalculations and mistakes that were made, the process, and outcome of World War II could not have been more perfect considering our escape. The cost, 405,399 US Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Guardsmen and women that never came home to live in freedom and raise a family.          

For me now, at times it seems as if, God had his hand in it all along.




                                                                                                              GALINS LIBRARY


Hitler visits the Hospital and the injured from the blast that was intended

to kill Hitler on July 20, 1944. On about the same time 1944 we

were retreating from Budapest to Rajka Hungary and than Poland.


                                                                                                                GALINS LIBRARY

For this act some 5,000 individuals were hung with a piano wire, and or executed before sunup, striped naked. Many of them were high ranking officers.






Aside on Heroism:

The Three Unlikely Conspirators



                                                               ALL THREE PICTURES-ART RENDERINGS


   Admiral Wilhelm Canaris   Colonel Klaus von Stauffenberg



Field Marshal Erwin Rommel

The Desert Fox


Because these men did not succeed in assassinating Hitler, my mother and I had another chance to survive and this made it possible for this story to be told. On Hitler’s orders, Marshal Rommel was picked up from his home by two Generals and was forced to take cyanide while in route. To avoid disgrace, Rommel took the cyanide capsule.

Admiral Wilhelm Canaris was the chief of the Nazi counter-intelligence service. But as Hitler’s madness and the hopelessness of the Nazi cause became obvious, he helped the British with intelligence information and worked against Hitler. Canaris then organized the failed assassination attempt on Hitler on July 20, 1944. Afterward, he was arrested and taken to Flossenburg concentration camp. As the end of the war approached, and Allied gunfire was heard in the background, Canaris, his deputy Oster, and the pastor Dietrich Bonhoeffer, were stripped naked and hanged before         sunup.

Colonel Klaus von Stauffenberg was the man who actually had the courage to place a bomb-laden briefcase underneath the heavy oak table next to Hitler at a Staff Meeting on July 20, 1944. Then, on the pretense to make a phone call, he left the Staff Meeting Room to his nearby parked airplane and flew to Berlin, planning to set up a new German Government he was certain that Hitler was dead this would bring an end to the war. But, another Staff Officer saw an opportunity-a spot next to Hitler just moments after Stauffenberg left. Because bomb-laden briefcase was in his way he moved the briefcase, and the ferocious blast that followed failed to kill Hitler. Stauffenberg was arrested by Joseph Göebbels upon his arrival in Berlin, put against the wall with the light of military trucks shining on him, and shot. This incident by the Staff Officer that moved that bomb-laden briefcase, because it was in his way, alone changed the course of the war. If Hitler had been killed, as was intended, Stauffenberg would have succeeded in setting up a new German government and a conditional surrender treaty with the Allies. We would have never made it to Germany and subsequently to the U.S.A. Such a small incident, like moving a briefcase that has been forgotten by the rest of the world, made it possible for me to survive and write this book.

Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, though the best soldier and general in the German Army, was not a fanatical Nazi. When he recognized that Germany was going to lose, he—with others—wanted to negotiate a conditional surrender with the Allies to save his country. He knew about the assassination plot, and agreed to support the new government with his divisions. When the plot failed, on Hitler’s orders he was arrested while with his family at home; on his way out he told his family he was not coming back. En route, the two Generals who arrested him gave him a choice: go on trial for treason and humiliate his family and the German People, or take a cyanide capsule right then and have a state funeral with all the honors befitting a great German Field Marshal. Rommel took the cyanide capsule. These men, among others, put their lives on the line in an effort to save thousands of lives and save their country Germany, from destruction. Their commitment to their country can make one humble. And in the end, it showed their greatness.












Uprooting and Upheaval


   We found out soon enough when Field Marshal Paulus surrendered what remained of the Wehrmacht’s Sixth Army to the Soviets at Stalingrad on Jan. 31, 1943. Shortly there after, the call for retreat came. The Germans began retreating from the Caucasus and they ended their two-and-a-half-year siege on Leningrad. The tide had turned and the Soviets pressed their advantage. It was during this crisis that Feltfebel Klüwa received the call to also begin a retreat. We were to move down South to the Town of Pavlograd, about fifty miles South of Petropavlovka, where the company would stay and collect the traditionally large harvest during the summer months. Mother and I had lived intimately with Germans for a year. We knew names, missions, supply inventories, and plans. We couldn’t be set free. We knew they would force us to go, too. What if we managed to escape? Where would we go? If the Partisans found us, all they would see is two Ukrainians who had spent time aiding the Germans. We would be killed instantly. It was here that Feltfebel Klüwa showed his dark side and here my mother was to face the most traumatic ordeal of her life. Klüwa, pistol in hand, gave her a choice: she could be shot, we could both be sent to a concentration camp, or she could be his companion until they reached safety in Germany. It wasn’t enough to keep cooking meals. She had to give herself to him and she had to choose it now. Nina was a strong, decisive woman. She chose to keep her son alive because she still wanted to see me get to America some day. Because of what she did, I survived to tell this story and before the war was over she was pregnant with a German officer’s child Anneliese-my sister Anne. After a hard day of forced labor and as we bedded down for the night after everything was quiet, Mother would tell me stories about my father, what she was doing, and why she was doing it. Only much later I began to understand Nina’s explanations relative to our plight and that our survival was her biggest concern and responsibility. She would say to me on many occasions “Toliya, you are young and deserve a better life. Your father and your entire family have tried to get to America. Now you have to survive and get there and be a free man.” In a strange way, by fathering my sister Anne, Feltfebel Klüwa gave me the chance to later roam around looking for such an opportunity to fulfill her wishes.











If Anne hadn’t been around, I probably would have stayed with my mother to comfort her and keep her from being all alone. To this day I probably would be in Germany in some stone quarry somewhere as a steinwerker (stone cutter), hammering out cobblestones for a living. Sometimes it still frightens me just to think about it. I didn’t know about all this at the time. I didn’t even realize at first that we were being forced to evacuate Petropavlovka. I remember hearing that we had orders to head out somewhere really quickly and were told to pack now and fast. Mother and I packed all the pots from the kitchen—some of them still warm from cooking. It was kind of a novelty to be riding on the back of the truck with some of the other drivers and armed German soldiers. But then I looked up and saw the fires back in our Village. Everything was being scorched to the ground. As I watched my chata, where I had played and grown up with all of my friends, getting smaller and smaller and now nobody has a home left. Hidden behind my village were the blazing, setting sun and the billowing smoke. Suddenly, I understood and it became very real to me what was happening to us. I kept my face turned from the soldiers so they wouldn’t see my tears. When we arrived in Pavlograd we set up base in an old school that had been bombed out and abandoned—we always looked for some type of building with a working kitchen as our base of operations. When we got settled in, the conscripted truckers resumed their intelligence-gathering jaunts and we all resumed our covert diversion of wheat and supplies. As I became more involved in the tasks, my co-conspirators coached me constantly on how to answer any questions that the Germans may ask me. Mother helped too. She would pretend to protest to the commanding officer about my working with the truckers because my ears were too young for their kind of language. Or she would tell him she worried about me driving such a big truck while still a boy. She tried to throw him off my trail—and she was good! Feltfebel Klüwa never suspected a thing. He would say to her, “Look, everybody said that Adolf was too young to drive a truck. Look at him now! He has not wrecked one yet.” I was enjoying my role as a young double agent. And I always enjoyed the stories the men would tell of their “nights on the town.” However, there was often a heavy price to pay for a woman, a bottle of Moonshine and some information. On some mornings a man or two would not return from their “evening out.” Sometimes the Partisans did away with them, thinking of them as Nazi collaborators. Sometimes they joined the Partisans themselves. And sometimes they just fled for their lives, usually never to be heard from again.








A Rite of Passage


   But in general, everything went smoothly. Spring turned to summer; and summer turned to harvest time; and for a while it was business as usual. It’s funny that what strikes me all these years later is that in the midst of war and

Chaos and acting like a big shot with grown-up responsibilities; I still had a chance to be a kid sometimes. I remember one incident especially. The local kids here at Pavlograd would always hang around us. When I would be out working on one of the trucks one of them would always come up and say to me, “Hey Toliya, let’s you and I stuknimosiya.” This was a custom, a friendly fight between a local and a new kid. It was like a rite of passage. They especially wanted to get at me since I was with the Germans and couldn’t run around with them all day. Finally I got sick of them challenging me every day. I convinced the trucker I worked with, Misha, not to tell my mother; and the kid who challenged me, a redheaded guy named Yurek, promised not to hit me in the face so there wouldn’t be any marks. One afternoon I slipped through some bushes and met Yurek and his friends at a bombed-out house with no roof. We stood on a big pile of rubble. Yurek took the first swing but he wasn’t on good footing. He missed me and stumbled a bit. I caught him with a punch to the gut and then followed it up with another to his rib cage and he went down. Growing up Polish in Petropavlovka had taught me some good moves. Just like that our stuknimosiya was over. I helped Yurek to get up we all shook hands, and the challenges stopped. For the rest of the time I was in Pavlograd, we were sort of strange friends—at least there was respect. I miss those kids today, too…
























Unconsciously Trained. Was I?


This part of my life during my conscript years literally as a boy frequently comes back, over and over again. In order to have something to cover my body, we would take a potato sack, cut a slit up the middle and with a little sewing –using the threads from the sack –we would make a pair of trousers. Most of the time my clothes were infested with lice. These clothes on this day saved my life.


  1943-several months later at the age of thirteen I was given a German uniform. If I had been dressed this time in German uniform I would have never returned. Quite often I was literally lectured by some of our Conscripts Troopers and by now, very good friends. Most of the time it was during our pick up of a load of wheat and drop it off at the nearest railroad station, or at other locations to be picked up perhaps by Germans themselves. This training was short but frequent. What to do, what to say, never to be  scared so that you can think right and how to behave if captured by the Russian Troops. On this particular day one of the drivers that I was with, besides Shura (page 105) who I was driving with quite often was Aliyosha. Aliyosha would say, “Toliya, you know you’re young and just a boy. You have a much better chance to survive, if it should happen, when you see the Russian soldiers don’t run sit down with your back leaning against a house or a tree with your knees up head down and cry a little, when asked, say that you lost your Mom and Dad in the war or, that you’re a “Siyerotah”, meaning simply an Orphan--“homeless. ” January 31, 1943 Field Marshal Paulus surrendered to the Russian Forces at Stalingrad, just in a few short months the entire 2000 mile German Russian frontline became very unstable mostly for the Germans. It was during the harvest time beginning of the end of summer, some where near the City of Pavlograd Ukraine. We had to fix the truck first and left late in the morning on our routine pickup mission we found everything was eerily quiet. The pickup place was empty and the fields were empty too. Not a living soul around. Aliyosha said, “Let’s go and see the folks at our last drop off.” But it was due north in the direction of the frontlines. I was excited because I could see some of my very new friends whom I met a few weeks earlier. Visiting was fun. We drank some kvass made from soaking bread in water in those days nobody had much of anything. I went to visit some more friends a few houses down.  When I was walking out eating a big piece of a watermelon; I noticed that the truck and Aliyosha were gone. This was very unnerving to me. I began to walk and shortly I was leaving the Village. I noticed three tanks quite a distance ahead of me the fourth tank was moving and than also stopped. I couldn’t tell if they were German or Russian Tanks. This is when I realized that I was heading in the wrong direction and I remembered Aliyosha and others have said when in danger play like a boy. Use it to your advantage since you’re just a boy anyway… I stretched my arms out and began to fly like a plane zig-zagging this dirt road. It was easy to start flying in the opposite direction. Leaving the Village on the opposite side heading south now, I noticed a Jeep like vehicle to my left heading southwest then changed its direction and was heading directly towards me I immediately sat down facing them. Soon I recognized that these were two Russian soldiers. One was an Officer. The soldier was driving. The windshield was down on the hood with two machines guns on top of it one on each side. The Officer said, “Malchiyk (Young man) what is your name?” I said, “Toliya.” Where are you going?” he asked. I pointed towards the Village ahead of us. I was told to climb in on the back. I did. The back was loaded with ammo metal boxes, so I sat next and held on to the spare tire. This time the driver said, “Your Mom and Dad will be glad to see you.” I said. “I don’t have either one of them.” The driver said to the Officer, “Too bad we can’t take him with us.” (On Yes’th Siyerotah) “He is homeless.” I could not believe what I was hearing. I did not have to pretend. I was crying, scared, and shaking. I could hardly talk losing my Mother Nina this way. Nearing the Village the Russian Officer said “Isn’t it great to have some tanks in our Battalion?” (Mu seychas Imeyem Tanki wnashem Palku) Apparently, they just got these tanks and were somewhat exuberant about it. All of a sudden the Officer said, “Stop.” I was told to jump off. The driver handed me a piece of real home baked bread. They went to the left of the Village heading southeast. I was relieved it was the best moment for me. I had a chance to see my Mom again. As I was walking for a while really enjoying my bread leaving this Village and the sunset behind me. Just over a small hill to my right I see Aliyosha and no truck.  A little further down a small wooded area as we were walking I gave him a piece of my bread I could tell he enjoyed it. I almost had to run behind him to keep up. He backed the truck into the woods over small trees. When the trees stood up with his help it gave a cover for the truck. He asked, “Did you see a vehicle with two solders? Were they Russians?” I said, “Yes, they brought me to this Village. He said they turned and went directly northeast. Aliyosha said some lady came in to the house and said that there are tanks coming, that he was looking for me and decided to leave that I would make it back and that he wouldn’t if he was captured by the Russians. He asked, “Were those Russian Tanks?” I said,   yes.


This was my seventh time that God wanted me to write this book. Actually I was in Russian hands but they did not know that. Thank God I did not have my German uniform on yet.


” Way after the sunset it was still fairly light when we came into the base at about 9:00 PM. Mom was waiting and concerned. She fed us as usual. Mom never was told. It would have broken her heart and the fear would have stayed with her long after my fateful day that I had. But, Feltfebel Klüwa did know and asked lots of questions. To this day I wonder was it a setup for me to get the information to be forwarded to the headquarters. I am sure it was passed on this time because we received orders to retreat during the Shura’s capture incident the next day early AM. Just after this, our close call and the debriefing. I could tell right away that things were not normal. They never were from minute to minute anyway, but this time it was different. Everybody was tense and quiet. My Mother Nina had grief in her eyes. I asked what had happened. She said, “The Feldgendarmerie caught Shura [one of the drivers] unloading one sack of wheat at privet CHATA The German command wants to hang him in front of everybody.” Nina was devastated and so was I. Shura was by then a good friend. I also was often a part of this subversive unloading, except for this time.               An Act of Humanity


   That evening, Nina was told by the Commanding Officer Klüwa to prepare a dinner for the Her-Oberst (Colonel), the regiment commander of SHTRALOH, and our commanding officer, Feltfebel Edwin Klüwa. She pleaded with them for Shura’s life. The Oberst told her that she was endangering her own life with that kind of talk but she didn’t stop. She said that she spoke as a mother. Shura was just a twenty-year-old boy! Boys make mistakes! Nina also told them that his father had been killed and that Shura was all that his mother had left in the world. Later that evening Nina asked one of the Russian Gypsies, to come and play guitar. He was the best. Alcohol flowed, music played, and Nina softened a few Nazi hearts. I was supposed to have been sleeping around the corner on the floor. But instead I listened and even sang to myself with Zehan’s (Gypsy’s) music as the guitar and Zehan were singing late into the evening. This was to be a night to remember for more than one reason. Klüwa received new orders at 4:00 a.m. We were to retreat from Pavlograd to Dniepropetrovsk, about 100 miles northwest of Pavlograd, as the Soviets had gained more ground. It was the beginning of the end for the Third Reich, though nobody really knew it then. What they did know was that the front line was retreating so we had to start retreating too. Klüwa released Shura from the guards and told him to drive his truck. I was to go with him as a second driver.

We loaded the trucks, this time with some experience under our belt. Dawn broke with scattered fog in our midst and neither one of us had much sleep. Shura was awake through the night afraid that, at the young age of twenty, it was his last night to live, thinking about his widowed mother losing her only son, too. We talked about our diversion-of-wheat operation and how he got caught by the two German Feldgendarmerie troopers on a motorcycle with a sidecar and armed with a machine gun (as it appears below). Shura was the only one that I shared my close call with, with the two Russian Troopers. These Feldgendarmerie troopers were new to us. They operated and controlled the front lines now that the Germans were in retreat. We would later meet them again just before the end of the war, where our lives would hang in the balance. They ordered Shura to continue to his company base. Upon arrival under their guns, Shura dismounted his truck and was turned over to Feltfebel Klüwa. When Klüwa pointed his revolver at Shura, the two troopers got on their (bi-wagen)-motorcycle and left. Shura, seeing his captor Klüwa with a pistol pointing at him for the first time, was really frightened. Shura was locked up in a small room with a German guard at the door. No one could see or talk to him.

By about 9:00 a.m., working on little sleep, we were approaching the city of Dniepropetrovsk, just before the bridge crossing the River Dnepr. It was the second time I had seen this “big city.” One month earlier, I was taken to this City’s German frontline Field Hospital from Pavlograd for an operation. I had a big swelling under my chin and throat probably from malnutrition. This time it was somewhat foggy and in its own way, simply beautiful. Suddenly the convoy came to a stop for no apparent reason. As we waited to get moving again Shura sat for a while lost in thought. On the outskirt of the city that was his hometown. Just before the convoy started rolling again he asked me to drive. I felt intuitively what he was planning. We changed seats. I shifted the gears and started to move. I looked at Shura. He was looking at me with tears in his eyes, he said, “Thanks for being a friend.” He opened the door, looked at me one more time and said, “Say thanks to Nina, and Feltfebel Klüwa. I think that he is a good human being after all.” Shura jumped and rolled down the slope into the fog and bushes. I hit the gas pedal, the truck lurched forward, and the door slammed shut. Shura was home and I had lost another friend. I wonder if his mother was ever told how close she came to losing her son. He had talked with me a lot about his family. His father a Russian Soldier had been killed by the Germans. Shura was all that she had left. Feltfebel Klüwa knew that Shura was from Dniepropetrovsk and deliberately helped him to get home. There didn’t seem to be any other reason for stopping the convoy where he did and when he did, and why did Klüwa told me to drive with Shura? When we got settled in at our new camp, Klüwa asked me where Shura was. I told him that Shura had asked me to drive and when he got out of the truck to switch sides he disappeared. The Feltfebel then asked if I was okay and said nothing more. Looking back, what a day it was. My Mom did not lose me to the Russians and Shura’s Mother didn’t lose her only son either.

                                    My life was saved 8th time with operation above    

  Area 12. German Captured Equipment 1943 German Combat Motorcycle at Matuer. JICAA #28. 001687. OSS 88053. Hitler’s elite German Feldgendarmerie policed the German-Russian frontlines using this Bi-wagen (combat motorcycle) in favorable weather conditions or not.




Retreat via the City of Pavlograd and Dniepropetrovsk


   Ukraine, Soviet Union, a Russian territory, Pavlograd was our first stop during our retreat from my village of Petropavlovka, some fifty kilometers south west of Petropavlovka in Dniepropetrovsk Oblast (province), Ukraine. It had only been a minor trading center before the October Revolution (1917) and was incorporated in 1797. It is now a major railway junction and center of the West Donets Basin. Its varied industrial base includes the manufacture of machinery for the chemical industry and for foundries and the production of bricks. There is a linen mill and consumer industries include the processing of foodstuffs and the production of clothes and furniture. Population (1993 EST.) was 137,000.

The City of Dniepropetrovsk

During retreat and crossing the Dnieper River for the

First and the Last time.


   “Dniepropetrovsk, oblast (province) southern Ukraine on the River Dnepr, comprises of three reservoirs dammed for hydroelectric power. The oblast consists of rolling plains of moss-covered sedimentary rocks, dissected by erosion gullies. In the valleys are outcrops of underlying ancient crystalline rocks. The fertile soil was originally in grass-stripped vegetation that has been almost entirely removed by the plow. Only on the Dnieper and Samara flood plains are there forest groves, mainly of oak. The climate is continental, with hot summers and cold winters; the warmth is modified by incursions of warm air from the Black Sea. The oblast, formed in 1932, is important for its mineral wealth. Around Kryvyy Rih are huge deposits of iron ore, and in the Nikopol-Marhanets areas are rich manganese deposits that are estimated to be among the largest in the world. Titanium is mined at Vilnohirsk; natural gas is extracted at Pereshchepyne; and some coal is extracted in the east. These minerals are the basis of large-scale heavy industry in the oblast’s four large cities. Dniepropetrovsk City (the oblast headquarters), Kryvyy Rih, Dniprodzerzhynsk, and Nikopol-which engage in iron and steel production and a wide range of heavy engineering. Agriculture is also important in the oblast, especially the cultivation of winter wheat, corn (maize), spring barley, sunflowers, fodder crops, and melons in an area of 12,200 square miles (31,800 square km). Pop. (1991 EST.) 3,900,600.”

1943 early spring leaving Ukraine-the Soviet Union for the first and the last time for two years in retreat the Russians were advancing rather rapidly behind us. Most of the time they were too close and we were always in fear of being cut off and captured by the Russian Forces. Since I was the youngest and worked with the German soldiers in close proximity such as, cleaning their weapons and shining their shoes, I learned the German language rather fast. It was enough to act as a translator for Feltfebel Klüwa as well as my Mom, Nina, also did some translating. For quite some time I tried to figure it out as to why Feltfebel Klüwa was sharing certain information with me, including, right out of his maps. The heavy battles, the names of the cities-such as, Kursk, Voronezh, Smolensk, Leningrad, Moscow, and of course Stalingrad. It was not until I began to write this book, mostly notes particularly when I was in Korea; much later connecting these dots. These briefings were almost always before he would have me translate these events to the troops, so that I had the time to digest it all and than do a better job of translating hearing it for the second time. Most all of the conscripts were Russians and Ukrainians. After all, most of us were semi loyal out of necessity, his information carefully crafted held our morale from sinking. Klüwa liked his schnapps and at times had his share of it. Privately he would say to us, “This-idiot corporal, referring to Hitler, is running the war and we are about to lose Stalingrad and perhaps the war it self with him in Command, then, reaching for another drink. Somehow, when I think of Klüwa I find a soft spot in my heart. After all, he fathered my sister, Anne. That was the best thing for our Mom, Nina, in her later years. Whatever he was, he was not a Nazi, was he an angel that got us out of the Soviet Union, even though it was under the gun? After all, Edwin Klüwa, German Officer, in so many ways is responsible for our survival and this book being in existence.

Winter 1943 it must have been in Bessarabia I remember the city of Kishinev between Ukraine, and Moldavia, deep into Russian winter during German retreat on all fronts. Our convoy could not move. We settled in on the outskirt of, perhaps it was Kishinev itself. The locals because of the bitter cold took us into their little and humble homes. I was asked to bunk in with a girl to keep us both warm, It did! The little house was crowded every body was slipping with somebody. Her name was Katiya, diminutive for Katyusha my favorite song named Katyusha. She must have been eighteen years old.  I was thirteen. She had a skirt on made out of stiff canvas like material every time I, or she moved, it sounded and felt like sandpaper. Well, I made it through the night. We talked by whispering into each others ear a lot. I would say she was somewhat bold. I finally began pretending that I was asleep, and finally I did fall asleep. In such a short time we became friends. I wonder to this day, why something like this never happened to me again. The next day we had to continue our retreat. Early AM there was something going on coming from a makeshift German Air Field. Unbeknownst to us we were next to it. Maybe 1000 yards from us or so, we did see the German airmen rather loud; too far to understand or to recognize, the Air Strip was covered with snow, the air planes were snowed in, Farther to the West several planes took off and landed. A gasoline was poured and then ignited until the entire take off strip was on fire due West. Some 50 or more Luftwaffe crewmen would pull and push the plane to this burning strip. When the fire was almost out, the planes would take off one by one. Some had their landing wheels still on fire. The next day the message from the German Command was, we were told by our Commander Klüwa, that it was Hitler Himself. He ripped off the insignias off the uniform saying, that there is no such thing in German Luftwaffe as, can not be done. I was in aw when the commotion erupted not knowing that it was Hitler doing it too far to recognize any one. To this day I some times wonder was it Hitler!  





   Snowed in German Makeshift frontline Air Port somewhere between

Kishinev, Bessarabia and Bucharest, Romania. It may have been on the outskirts of Kishinev it self. During the night the snowing stopped. Orders came to retreat. Me at 13 my new girlfriend was 18 that I slept with last night; it was warm and cozy. As before and after in my life, I had to leave my little girl in Kingston Town. In a way, I was glad we left.
























Route to Germany


















1944 The massacre of the Jews during our retreat with our captors

Took Place somewhere in that V shaped rout Between Bessarabia,

Moldavia, Bucharest, Walachia and Transylvania.   














Chapter Five:



Spring, 1944 after a heavy rain during our retreat, it was somewhere between Dniepropetrovsk, Ukraine and Romania as we were struggling pushing our trucks through the mud. Then just in time, one of the German combat (Raupenshleper)-Semi-Track showed up. Timing could not have been better. We had in our convoy about 9 trucks and one by one we were pulled out to a higher ground. We were sitting ducks. Our being captured by the Russian Forces was imminent. This Half-Track, just one incident of many that saved our lives.



German Army-Hermann Göring Panzer Corps


Rapid machine gun fire broke the relative calm struggles on this muddy stretch. We were attacked from the rear by the Russian ISTRYEBITIYEL one pilot attack fighter. As we scrambled for cover, there was none. It is either under the truck or hit the ground on the open. I ran and hit the ground on my right side and saw the pilot with a smile and a hand wave not more than three hundred feet from us to my left at two o’clock, banking his airplane to his left, just a glance of his smiling face and two red stars on  the wings. It was over in less then five seconds. What is so puzzling that he never returned for another strike? No one was hurt.  Several trucks were hit but not disabled. Certainly, the pilot looked friendly; the fact that he didn’t come back - maybe he was friendly.

                       Drawing by Author     

1944 It must have been somewhere near Kishinev Bessarabia

The City of Kishinev had its share of heavy fighting.

Looking back now at all of the tight spots where we got out alive, there had to be more than just the angels. It may have been that God was there himself for us. In a race against time and the advancing Russian armies, we were retreating to the German Fatherland via Romania, Hungary, and Poland. For the German Wehrmacht the noose was drawing tighter and tighter



Retreat and Surrender


   The fighting had now become more desperate for the Wehrmacht. For Hitler the noose was drawing tighter and tighter, our orders had changed. We were now no longer to load up wheat, just supplies—munitions, factory parts, assembly line parts, metal, and fuel. Rather than supporting a strong army, our company was now trying more and more to shore up a collapsing one. Because of that, the mood in our company became much darker while we were retreating via Dniepropetrovsk, next to Kishinev, Bessarabia. It was before we entered Bucharest, Romania that the majority went underground and we became a “ragtag” transport regiment that now was on the run. The next day we got the order to retreat further, into Bucharest, Romania. It was in the spring of 1944 and the Russian Forces where right behind us. Soon we had to continue to retreat. The Romanian people were kind to us in stark contrast to the hatred and the revenge that we had seen from the Soviet Partisans and the German soldiers alike, most vividly illustrated by the case of the Russian doctor back in my Village Hospital operating on a wounded German soldier and who were murdered by the Partisans. Now we were dealing with the locals of Romania and here they displayed the natural courtesy for us as individuals—regardless of what they thought of the governments that had brought this terrible war to their land. They treated us well, knowing that the newly arrived soldiers—mostly just kids themselves who had been forced to leave their own mothers and families—probably did not ask to go and fight anybody. It was an overwhelming experience to have been shown kindness even though in their eyes we could have been the “enemy.” It’s just one of those fleeting moments of how men can and should behave. This is one of the many places that I would like to visit one day. I remember one example. On Easter 1944 Nina was preparing a meal for the troops. She wanted to make something nice to celebrate this solemn day but didn’t have the facilities or the ingredients that she needed. The local people, according to their Romanian traditions and customs, brought eggs and Paska (a special Easter bread) and gave it to Nina so she would have something to pass out. It was a small gesture but a permanent memory. For a little while it felt like everything was okay, like the world was at peace again. The same hospitality lured some of the conscripted drivers away into freedom in Bucharest’s underground. There were no able-bodied, skilled men left to replace the ones who vanished. So while we were there we became a “ragtag” skeletal transport regiment that now was on the run. Still we kept doing our job of stripping factories of anything useful and sending parts back to Germany. Again, orders came to retreat. Shortly there after Romania gave up to the Soviet forces. Almost in constant retreat to Budapest, Hungary. Italy was surrendering in droves to the Russian Forces, then gave up and went home, perhaps, to defend their own land of Italy.








The Massacre of the Jews

1944 On a Beautiful Warm Summer Afternoon.  It must have been somewhere between May and August


   The Soviet forces were decimating the Axis. The Allies were bombing oil fields in Ploesti Romania denying Hitler the precious oil that was so essential for his Wehrmacht. Later while in Budapest, every night we would be watching the Ploesti Oilfields and the sky on fire. The setbacks only brought out the worst in the Nazi ranks. As our convoy retreated through Romania and than Hungary As we were driving on a rural road to my left and right the bodies of Jewish men, women, and children, shot by the marching retreating S.S. troops  ART WORK to be inserted HERE!  Just minutes or hours ahead of us. These scenes and the Star of David on those bodies are always on my mind when I think of my boyhood. I remember in particular one girl—maybe five years old—lying on top of her mother’s stomach, still clutching her sides. My Mother Nina under the gun, by now was several months pregnant with Anne. I remember her watching the scene in silent horror. We both did. What was there to say? This kind of scene would make one speechless. Some of the bodies were still holding hands or embracing each other, as if they had been hugging each other as a farewell. I often thought of my childhood Jewish friend, Boris. Whatever happened to him and all of my other friends? Those were our innocent and formative years. We were moving at about twenty miles per hour. I was trying desperately to see if I can spot my friend Boris and or his family I was frustrated with tears in my eyes. I could not see most of the time. I looked at my Mom, Nina, Her face was somber. She had tears in her eyes also. The atmosphere among the German Troops in our convoy was also quite sedated. They were not proud to see what the German Third Reich was all about. It took a lot of time to come to grips with what I saw there. For a long time I wanted to block those memories out; to erase them. It was too hard to make sense of this horror. But as the years went by, I finally began to realize that I had no answers as to “Why them?”—And that I didn’t have to figure it all out. I realized that blocking those memories was a dishonor to those who died. In a way, I came to feel privileged to be able to witness and remember these tragic sufferings, and that it was my responsibility to live and to tell about it. What happened cannot be reasoned away. These men, women and children were marching from and through a hell into disappearance from this planet earth, as we moved on past the carnage. Later, Feltfebel Klüwa saw that Nina and I were extremely shaken up. He told us to remember that all of our lives—his as well—were on the line. I remember him saying with disgust in his voice as he walked away, “I never believed that Germany could win the war by killing children.” For all his faults, Klüwa at least was no Nazi. At times he referred to Hitler as “that little Corporal who doesn’t know what he’s doing” (but only out of earshot of High Command). I feel strongly that it was only because of his seasoned and cunning behavior that we as a battered Company actually survived. 

Some 60 years ago! When the world went mad and the Genocide of 27 million Russians, Ukrainians, Poles., 6 million Jews, 10 million Christians, 1,900 Catholic priests, some 600,000 Gypsies and many others were Humiliated then Murdered by Hitler’s Reich




                                                                   Holocaust-Picture from Jewish Archives                                                                               


The Massacre of the Jews. From this scene the Art work will be rendered 


1943-1944 Woman and child execution at Ivangorod Ukraine, my Country


Our First Night in Budapest

Was Not Friendly.

   Not long after we arrived in Budapest we realized that this city, too, would soon fall. Our convoy had just pulled up along side of the railroad station when the air raid alarm went off at 9:00 p.m. The Allied bombing had begun. We knew instinctively that the railroad station was no place for us. We ran away from it and then I saw a lady and two teenagers at the corner of a building waving at us to come to them. They led us into a cellar where a few of the German soldiers followed us into this shelter too. We all huddled together with the local folks. It was cramped and babies, children and some of the adults were crying or screaming. It was terrifying because we all knew that one direct hit and we would all die together. Each of us was on a plain level field, soldiers and Civilians alike. We tried to stay cheerful and keep our spirits up. The bombing lasted for several hours. Sometime after 1:00 a.m. we returned to the convoy. A paper mill, a library, and some factories had been hit. Everything was on fire. The streets were a chaotic litter of smoke and ruins. We had to move our trucks fast to get them out of the area. We were fortunate to have lost only one truck, which had caught fire. This was only the first of many such nights. The next day our Company moved into a building with a similar shelter facility. Soviet forces were closing in on Budapest from the east while the American and British bombers hammered the city night after night. Every night around the same time the sirens would start to blare, warning of the next onslaught. Concussion bombs were the most terrifying, their awesome power was frightening to behold. During these bombing raids I do not remember being frightened of dying, but rather of how I might die either by being buried alive and unable to move or eat or drink until I finally succumbed, or burned to death from the terrible incendiary bombs. Our basement windows were blown out by some of these concussion bombs. I remember the feeling of hearing agonized cries from under the mounds of rubble between each explosion helpless, hopeless, despairing and totally scared! Aside from German troops the streets of Budapest were empty. Allied bombers would come in formation after formation by the hundreds. The U.S. would bomb at night while the British took the day shift. The city took an incredible beating. The early waves of bombers dropped slow descending flares that lit up the sky and made the German searchlights and Luftwaffe air defenses almost useless. When we weren’t being bombed we could watch the incandescent glow of the oil Fields in the Romanian city of Ploesti go up in flames. On the same Sunday that Mr. Horthy, the Imperial Administrator of Hungary and puppet of the Nazis, fled the city of Budapest, we began the next stage of our retreat. October, 15 1944 This Imperial Administrator had fled his capital city—and his very country! I remember so vividly the sense of desperate finality of his leaving, it was close to “the end” of the Nazi occupation of Hungary. Imeadetly another German popet Ferenc Szalasi, Prime Minister was installed.































-------- Original Message --------


FW: Holocaust List 2012


Mon, 4 Feb 2013 19:48:54 -0700


Helga Tronrud <>


Alan Schwarz <>, Mary Lee <>, Tad Galin <>

From: Hank and Dianne Mahoski []
Sent: Sunday, February 03, 2013 7:59 PM
To: Helga Tronrud
Subject: Fw: Holocaust List 2012

Unbelievable story!



 The Holocaust List 2012 finally opened up to public

 Incredible The Holocaust List found.

 This story was aired on CBS on "60 MINUTES" ** about a long-secret German archive that houses a treasure trove of information on 17.5 million victims of the Holocaust. The archive, located in the German town of Bad Arolsen, is massive (there are 16 miles of shelving containing 50 million pages of documents) and until recently, was off-limits to the public. But after the German government agreed earlier this year to open the archives, CBS News' Scott Pelley traveled there with three Jewish survivors who were able to see their own Holocaust records. It's an incredibly moving piece, all the more poignant in the wake of the meeting of Holocaust deniers in Iran and the denial speeches in the UN. We're trying to get word out about the story to people who have a special interest in this subject.

It is now more than 60 years after the Second World War in Europe ended.

This e-mail is being sent as a memorial chain, in memory of the six million Jews, 20 million Russians, 10 million Christians and 1,900 Catholic priests...............who were murdered, massacred, raped, burned, starved and humiliated with the German and Russia peoples looking the other way! Now, more than ever, with Iran, among others, claiming the Holocaust to be "a myth," it is imperative to make sure the world never forgets.

This e-mail is intended to reach 40 million people worldwide!

Join us and be a link in the memorial chain and help us distribute it around the world.

Please send this e-mail to 10 people you know and ask them to continue the memorial chain.

Please don't just delete it. It will only take you a minute to pass this along


THIS IS 11-12-13






Volume 1 Number 1 publication

Cancer. Nothing drives fear deep into the heart of men and women like the word cancer. And what's worse, this life-threatening, debilitating disease is on the rise. Every year, 10.9 million people across the globe are diagnosed with cancer, and 6.7 million die of the disease. In fact, in any given year, cancer is responsible for 12 percent of all global deaths. And less you think that the bulk of the people with the disease live in third - world countries, consider this: the U.S. ranks in the top three countries with the highest rates of cancer in both men and women. Is it something in the air? Is it something we are eating or drinking? Is it something that we are applying to our skin? Is there anything that we should be avoiding, doing or taking? Yes. Yes. Yes. There are things you can do.

Download Article

Progressive or pro-Cancer?

The U.S. is one of the most progressive countries in the world. We are one of the leading industrial nations, our citizens drive tens of millions of cars, our homes are insulated, we have central air conditioning and indoor heat, we produce more food than any other country in the world and store it in refrigerators, our floors are carpeted and our lawns are weed-free. We have makeup to make us more beauty-full, Botox to make us look younger, strips to make our teeth whiter and prescription drugs to make us live longer. So why are so many Americans getting and dying from cancer? As it turns out, the very aspects of modern life that have supposedly made life easier are, in fact, making life more dangerous. And these "aspects" can be summed up in one word- chemical.

In 1989, the U.S. produced its one millionth man-made chemical. While many of these chemicals have made our lives more enjoyable, most are finding their way into our bodies and reeking havoc. Of the 70,000 chemicals being used commercially in the U.S. the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) considers 65,000 of them to be potentially-if not definitely hazardous to your health. And that's not all. More than 6,000 new chemicals are being tested in the U.S. every week. What is really frightening is that these chemicals aren't just sitting around in warehouses. According to the Environmental Defense Group (EDG) more than 4 billion pounds of toxic chemicals are released into the environment each year, 72 million pounds of which are known carcinogens. So where are these cancer-causing agents ending up? In the air you breathe, the water you drink and in the food you eat. They are everywhere.

Download Article

You're Surrounded

According to the 2005 report from the Centers for Disease Control's (CDC) environmental health laboratory, there are currently 148 chemicals - 38 of which have never been measured in the U. S. population - currently found in the blood / or urine of Americans. Similarly The Mount Sinai School of Medicine in New York, in collaboration with the Environmental Working Group, tested the blood and urine of nine volunteers. They found a total of 176 industrial compounds in the volunteers, with an average of 91 chemicals per person. Of these 167 compounds, 76 are known to cause cancer in humans, 94 are toxic to the brain and nervous system, 82 affect lungs and breathing, 86 affect your hormones and 79 cause birth defects and/ or abnormal development.


* PCBs (industrial insulators and lubricants): PCBs were band in the U.S. in 1976 due to their con-nection to increased cancer rates and central nervous system disorder.

* DIOXINS (by-products of PVC production, industrial bleaching and incineration): Dioxins are known to cause cancer in animals, and there is some concern that even low-level exposure over long periods of time can disrupt normal functioning of the endocrine (hormone) system, resulting in reproductive or developmental effects.

* FURANS (pollutants, by-products of plastics production): Furans cause cancer in humans and are toxic to endocrine system.

* PHTHALATES (found in many cosmetics and personal care products): Phthalates cause birth defects in male reproductive organs.

Additionally researches found other critical-and highly toxic- com-pounds, including heavy metals (such as lead, aluminum and mercury), as well as numerous pesticides and herbicides. It's not just adults that are affected. According to a bench mark study conducted by the Environmental Working Group, unborn babies may be negatively affected most. Researches tested the umbilical cord blood of ten children (the samples were collected by the Read Cross after the cord had been cut). They found a total of 287 industrial chemicals and pollutants in each cord, with an average 200 per cord. And of the 287 chemicals, 180 are known to cause cancer, 217 are toxic to the brain and nervous system and 208 cause birth defects in animals. Clearly something needs to be done. We are overdosing on harmful chemicals right from birth.

Download Article    

Volume 1 Number 1 publication

Eat, Drink and be Wary

For years we've been told that America is the land of plenty. And while we have plenty of food available to eat, as a rule, most of it is very poor quality and is lacking in trace minerals because our soils are becoming more and more depleted. After World War II, farming practices changed radically. Manufacturers of war time chemicals needed new markets for their products. These chemicals became the raw material for producing fertilizers. By 1960, 97 percent of all crops were treated with chemical fertilizers that used salt-based nitrogen. While this method of farming created perfectly shaped and colored produce, it created weak plants. And just like weak animals that are prayed upon by wolves and other predators, these plants are prayed on by pests, necessitating the need for more pesticides. Early in 1990's, researchers set out to determine if these pesticides penetrated the skin of the fruits and vegetables, so, they peeled them and had them retested. Much to their surprise, that these same chemicals were also in the meat of the fruits and vegetables. So, not only we are eating poor quality food, but this same food is laced with pesticides. And it's not just our fruits and vegetables. The animals we consume are contaminated with the same pesticides and herbicides (from their feed), as well as growth hormones and antibiotics. And don't think you can turn to the Chicken of the See. According to a study by two psychologists from Wayne State University in Detroit, pregnant women who ate fish from the Great Lakes (known to contain high levels of PCBs passed these chemicals onto their unborn babies. The researches found that children who were exposed to the greatest levels of the PCB-contaminated fish in utero were showing IQ scores than their peers by age four. They retested these children at age eleven and found that their IQ scores were, in fact, 6.2 point lower than less-exposed children.

Download Article

                                                Choose or Loose

Clearly, toxins are an unfortunate, but very real, fact of modern-day life. Study after study has been done on urine and on blood, showing that most people are indeed loaded with toxins. Even toxins such as DDT, which has not been used in 30 years, show up regularly in urine testing. Obviously, we are living in a toxic world. That's why it's so critical that you do everything you can to cleanse your body of these killer toxins and eat organic food and drink filtered, purified water whenever possible. An organic product is grown, stored and processed without the use of synthetic fertilizers, pesticides, or other harmful chemicals. Organic farmers must only adhere to a strict set of standards, they must also undergo regular inspections to insure they meet these standards - including no hormone use in animals, and no genetically - engineered seed or stock. By letting the focus of your diet center on healthy, organic whole foods - salads, steamed vegetables, whole grains, legumes, and lots of fiber - you can help move toxins through your body more efficiently, When choosing animal based protein, eat cage-free eggs, grass-fat beef, wild salmon and other fish, or free-range turkey and chicken. But that's not all. Chemical-leaden pesticides can contaminate ground water, too. So, be sure you are drinking pure, filtered water.

Download Article
                                 Exercise Your Right to Be Cancer-Free

And while we're on the topic of breast cancer, researchers at Harvard Medical School and the Harvard School of Public Health have found a direct correlation between frequent moderate to vigorous exercise and a reduced risk of breast cancer. After analyzing data provided by 1966, 388 women, researchers found that women, who engaged in moderate or vigorous activity for seven or more hours per week, had a nearly 20 percent lower risk

Of breast cancer; compared to women who exercised at the same level of activity but for less than one hour per week. Studies have also shown that exercise can also reduce your risk of developing other types of cancer, including colorectal cancer.


of breast cancer; compared to women who exercised at the same level of activity but for less than one hour per week. Studies have also shown that exercise can also reduce your risk of developing other types of cancer, including colorectal cancer.


                                                                                                      GALINS LIBRARY


Mrs. Charles Lindbergh talking with the Imperial Administrator from Hungary, Mr. Horthy, during happier days: October 14, 1938. The Lindbergh’s were Nazi sympathizers.


   Under the cover of darkness the convoy rolled out of Budapest, continuing on to dismantle Hungarian factories in Hegyeshalom, Kecskemet, and then on to Rajka. There in Rajka   we had a bit of a break. We got to stay there for a while. We spent some time with the Magyar Katonak (Hungarian soldiers) who would take us to the big wine cellars with huge barrels of wine on both sides as far as you could see. Their way of introducing us to their culture was by tasting the wine. By the time we got to the other end of the cellar we did not feel any pain and couldn’t tell which wine was which! The Magyar Katonak were very friendly and called me Kicsi Gyerek (Little Boy). I learned the language enough to be able to communicate. I was well accepted by the Hungarian community. Even at the age of thirteen-I thought that Hungarian Lanyok (girls) were pretty, with black hair and dark eyes. They all looked like my mother. Some nights we would get together and sing my favorites Csardasor “Dark Eyes.” Of all the places during the war, if I had to choose a place to stay for a while it probably would be Rajka. One day I would like to go back and visit. My deepest desire is to retrace the three years that my mother and I spent in retreat with our captors from Petropavlovka Ukraine to Tittling Bavaria Germany. And then to stand in the places my father stood when he too was on the run. If only his journeys had ended as happily as mine did. The good times didn’t last, of course. After a month in Rajka, in Magyaróvár Hospital on November 28, 1944, my mother gave birth to Feltfebel Klüwa’s daughter, Anneliese. There could have been no worse time to have been born or, for that matter, to be alive. But at the same time this was to be the best gift Nina and I could have had. Even though the times were so hard my little sister brought a lot of joy—for everybody. It was a pleasant diversion from our daily survival to experience the awe of the presence of a baby. She was so innocent and she was just beginning the journey that we had already been on—both good and bad. This little baby, Anneliese, as it turned out, perhaps saved Nina’s life after the war by giving her a reason to live. Anne also took care of Nina until her last days at the age of eighty-eight.

Orders to Retreat via Railroad



Russian T-34 about 61,000 of these Tanks were produced beyond

Ural Mountains and beyond Hitler’s reach. Page 127

This City was affectionately called Tankograd.

   It wasn’t long before Budapest fell to the Soviets. We had to move fast as we were now at risk of being overtaken by the Soviet forces that were catching up to us quickly. Everyone worked franticly. A very familiar quiet panic set in. Nobody knew just where and when the Russian troops would encircle us and cut off all possible retreating routes. Mother and I were scared too. It wouldn’t matter to them that we were Ukrainians and conscripts. We knew what was in store for us if we were captured. As usual, everyone threw themselves into trying to make our escape. The roads were unsafe by now and perhaps too slow for a fast escape and the German Command knew this. The orders came to retreat via railroad to Warsaw Poland. We loaded all of our trucks onto the flat train platforms. The transport had to be well camouflaged, yet there was little time and it was difficult work. By now we had only fifteen troopers left and ten trucks. These men were experts in this kind of warfare. Once our trucks were secured with several other German military units, we were on our way to their fatherland by nightfall via Poland, my fatherland. During this kind of traveling there were restaurants to stop for a good meal and no semblance of any of the conveniences of civilized life. All of the work had to be done in complete darkness, as usual, and at night not even a cigarette could be lit. The locomotive engines were cloaked in total darkness the conditions on the train were normal for being in retreat and for survival every second counts, basic and dismal. There are never any bathrooms on this type of train. But it’s been said that a bathroom and God are always with you right where you are. After almost all night on the run, at about 3 a.m., the train stopped amidst hills and pine forest on both sides of the tracks. It was pitch dark so everybody that needed to jumped off the train. It was one big bathroom on both sides and there were no usual lines to wait in. I don’t think the train stood still for more than a minute or two. In combat nothing is inconvenient—except being critically wounded, killed or captured. At any rate, it was not a joy ride even though it was free. To this day I wonder why the Russian airplanes did not spot us as they did once before, because we were sitting ducks on that rail line. Nina always had her answer—because the angels were always with us.



1944 The Red-Russian Army chasing the Nazis back across the Ukraine toward the Hungarian border.

1944 in Retreating from Ukraine through Hungary and my Ancestral Polish Homeland as Labor Conscripts with our German Captors. For me now, some two years later in constant retreat at the age of fourteen,   caught between the two fiercest opposing enemies on the planet, witnessing the Jewish massacre, laboring under the gun looking for some freedom not knowing what freedom was, I was glad that Hitler was loosing the war.


Poland, Warsaw up rising against the Nazi began on April 19, 1943, and ended on May 16, 1943. 


February 1945 we were unloaded in Warsaw, Poland.

Now a small truck convoy retreating to the Village of Rendziny


As Labor Conscripts with the German Captors our First Time on Polish Soil

As we found out later, we would have never made it out of Hungary had it not been for the train transport. The German defenses were collapsing on all fronts. We were unloaded in Warsaw, Poland. It was a bittersweet moment for Nina and me. Polish by blood and for the first time in our homeland, we were not even allowed to speak with our Polish brothers. Once the trucks were off the train we had to keep moving. The path of our retreat took us to the nearby small village of Rendziny and into an abandoned school where we made temporary headquarters—until the next retreat. Late one evening Feltfebel Klüwa walked in with his driver Waniya. They came into the kitchen and called 4487for Nina. She didn’t answer so they searched for her, finally finding her in a corner behind the stove. They asked her what she was doing. Nina said she was praying. She wanted to get to Jasna Gora Monastery with her son, Tadeusz, and baby daughter, Anneliese, to pray to the Black Madonna for safety to wherever we all were going. Jasna Gora, with its Black Madonna, has been the center of Polish faith for seven hundred years. It is considered the holiest of holy sites to my people. This was no small request. In the years we’d been labor conscripts with the German transport company we had never been allowed to leave the company premises for fear that we would flee. But just before our next—and last—retreat, Klüwa exhibited his human side again. With his driver, Waniya, and one other German soldier, he took my mother, my baby sister, and me to the Monastery at Jasna Gora, a good 60 miles away.


                                                                              WITH PERMISSION FROM POLISH EMBASY NEW YORK


The Pauline Monastery at Jasna Gora, a drawing, from 1664.


The story and the History of Black Madonna on page 450 Appendix B

                                                                                 WITH PERMISSION FROM POLISH EMBASY NEW YORK


Modern day Jasna Gora Monastery, “The Spiritual Center of Polish Catholicism.” In 1944 I entered a church, this church,

For the first time. I was thirteen years old.








The Black Madonna

Jasna Gora


   Nina was crying with joy as we got out of the truck near the monastery. One German soldier stayed outside with the truck. I was very aware of the armed German soldiers who walked behind us. There were a few people looking at us as we approached the main entrance to this magnificent Cathedral. A bell keeper carrying a key saw us coming and opened the door. The soldiers dispersed out of respect once we entered the monastery and stayed at the rear against the wall with Feltfebel Klüwa. They were armed. Nina took my hand. She was on my left side, holding Anneliese in her left arm. I was in awe at the size and the colors of this magnificent cathedral. As we entered, I looked up and around. With my eyes fixed on the ceiling we walked to the altar and knelt. Nina prayed to this Madonna in Polish as I listened—I had listened to her prayers all of my life. I tried to follow and pray with her this time.





                                           WITH PERMISSION FROM POLISH EMBASY NEW YORK


1944 It was appropriate that my mother would bring me and baby Anneliese 6 months old to this holy place, Jasna Gora, the first church that I entered in my life, in the midst of the calamities surrounding us. My indelible memories of it all are like a movie playing over and over again. I feel so fortunate for all of the surviving years and find it very beneficial to have such a mental library to draw upon. Wishing everyone would have such a personal library. This would be a much better world to live in.


   Nina was breast-feeding Anneliese so that she would not disturb this once-in-a-lifetime precious moment at this magnificent altar, just as she had suckled me at that same age when we made our escape from being deported to Siberia to join my Father in prison. Just like Anneliese I was six months old












Just as my Father fled in 1930 with me six months old as an escaped prisoner. Fleeing now from Yur’yevka, with his family deeper into Ukraine to Novosyiolovka and than to Petropavlovka. We must have been kneeling for half an hour. Suddenly a sense of warmth and peace coursed through my body. I had never felt that way before. I had this great feeling, as if everything was going to be okay and that there was no war or hardship or pain going on. Eventually, Nina took my hand again. I wanted to stay but I knew that we had to go. As we left the cathedral I was overwhelmed because now it looked twice as big as before. Approaching the truck, Nina looked at me with a gentle smile that I had never seen before. Now I understand that she was happy and at peace to have taken my sister and me to this holy place that she had told me about most of my life. I turned around to look once more at this breath-taking monastery. I wanted to go back. I felt a strong desire for freedom just to stay at the altar a little longer and that everyone should have the right to do so. I had never experienced that right because I had grown up a pawn in two dictators’ hands. At the age of thirteen I hardly knew what freedom was but as if by God-given instinct, I knew it was not right for a human being to be stripped of dignity and freedom, love and compassion that everyone so desperately needs. However, war had its own rules. In a heartbeat everything could change and seldom for the better. Life at that moment revolved around survival not freedom, so I got back into the truck. Nina, with baby Anneliese, sat in the front; Klüwa and one soldier sat in the back all armed with me. I was facing the monastery, admiring this holy structure as it faded in the distance. As mother and I had walked out she told me that she had prayed that everybody would be blessed for the rest of our journey to get safely to wherever they were taking us. I have to confess that later in life, though my faith in God was strong, my faith in the Church faltered. I know this was hard for my mother to watch. It’s only been in recent years that I fully understood Nina and her unwavering beliefs. Our Mother Nina was upset on many occasions that June and I had never baptized our two sons, Tad and Joe.  Not long before mother passed on, with my sister Anne, and their parish priest, Father David, we conspired to surprise Nina. My wife, June, and I had never baptized our two sons, Tad and Joe, both of whom were now adults. To surprise Nina we made the arrangement with Father David to baptize our two boys, Tad Galin Jr. and Jozef Przegalinski Galin. Of course on purpose, we were driving around the area of Parma, Ohio and it just “happened” that we were passing Nina’s church, and Nina said we should stop in to see Father David we were hoping she would. It was a perfect setup. So we went in and took a pew. Shortly Father David came out to deliver a service. At its conclusion, he called Nina’s grandsons up for their rite of baptism. Nina was really surprised she cried and cried and so did we. This day must have been one of the most joyous days of her life.




















Near the End of the Road


   To this day I wonder how Nina convinced the commanding officer, one German soldier, and Waniya the driver to take her, Anneliese, and me to this magnificent cathedral. I believe that somebody heard Nina’s prayers. The fact that we survived the rest of the journey to freedom is proof to me that at least her prayer at the cathedral was in fact answered. From this little village of Rendziny, we were supporting and delivering German troops assigned to guard a communication outpost on the outskirts of the city of Warsaw. This was after the Warsaw uprising, Warsaw was heavily guarded and the strong presence of Polish partisans throughout the countryside made our time there all the more dangerous. No one ventured outside the compound alone without at least three to five armed soldiers. One soldier by himself would never get back. Fear and tension ran high. Feltfebel Klüwa warned us repeatedly that if anyone in the high command found out that Nina and I were Polish we would be sent straight to a concentration camp. This was no idle threat. Even in our personal conversations, we spoke in Ukrainian, German, or Russian; we never dared to speak Polish. One late afternoon Feltfebel Klüwa said to me, “Adolf, tonight you will drive with Waniya.” Waniya, Klüwa’s trusted personal driver, was a Russian mathematician in his thirties. Through the years on the run, whenever we had time he would sit down and teach me math. I’m forever grateful for the doors he opened for me. Waniya drove an Opel Blitz, which is a 1-1/2 ton truck. It could seat ten troopers, five on each side. Waniya, very sharp and innovative in most everything, added some extra features to this truck for Klüwa’s benefit. One of these features was a gripping handle on the passenger side for Klüwa to get into the truck easier. Right above it, Waniya attached a spotlight. When the door would open, the light would shine on the grip handle. We left for Warsaw in the evening with eight German troops. When we arrived at the outpost and dropped off the troops, we loaded on a few more that were to be dropped off closer still into the city. There was hardly anyone along the dark streets on the outskirts of town, and then, “It was quiet; too quiet,” but that’s exactly how it felt. Like the calm before the storm, my gut said, “Let’s get out of here.” I think Waniya felt it too. It must have been 9 p.m. when we were finally on our way back to our base. It was a cloudy night. The road was jet-black asphalt cutting through thick forest like driving through a tunnel. We were close to the base, maybe half a dozen kilometers left to go and we hadn’t passed a single car or a German truck since we left Warsaw. Waniya asked me if I was hungry. I said I was. He said Nina would feed us when we got back. I smiled just by hearing “Nina” and “food.” It was very comforting. After seeing nothing for miles, up ahead a broken-down German combat Volkswagen came into view. It had a Red Cross and the usual swastika. A German lady nurse in full German uniform was standing next to it. Waniya slowed to stop, but I noticed he passed her by a lot before he brought the Opel to a halt.



Waniya left the truck in gear, the clutch down, and the brake on. I looked in the side mirror, and saw the nurse running toward the truck waving with joy, lit up by the brake lights. I asked Waniya to back up for her. He said, “Be still!” Finally, she was close. I opened the door. Waniya stopped me from moving to the middle to make room for her—rather sharply, I thought. The nurse reached in and grabbed the handle, her hand illuminated by the light Waniya had installed there. Suddenly, Waniya grabbed me by the neck and threw me down on to the passenger seat floor. He nailed the gas pedal, the Opel took off. The nurse fell away to the ground, and the door slammed itself shut from the forward thrust. I looked up to see what was going on but he just yelled, “stay down!” Just then, gunfire erupted mostly from the rear, glass shattered and exploded all over us. I realized that my head hurt badly. I stayed crouched down for an eternity, the Opel now in fifth gear, flying down the narrow road. Waniya was screaming, “Are you alright, Tolya?” I was beyond terrified, and couldn’t answer. But I finally realized that my head hurt from slamming into the rifle that was secured in its stand when Waniya threw me down onto the floor, not from a stray bullet. I yelled, “Yes!” back to him. Finally the gunfire stopped, and we were safe. I lifted my head, and I saw Waniya crouched down, almost sitting on the floor. He was holding the door open with his left hand and looking through the crack of the door in order to see ahead of him. Eventually he moved in and closed the door, but his head stayed down. He was looking through the steering wheel. He yelled at me, “Stay on the floor; the seat is full of glass!” One very tense minute passed like an hour, until he finally told me, “We are home now.” I saw the German guard letting us into the base. Nina fed us as usual. We tried to act normal. My head was throbbing, but I stayed quiet about it. She never found out what happened. Waniya briefed the captain that night. The next day when I was by myself, Feltfebel Klüwa walked up to me with a smile. He said, “Good to have you back, Adolf.” He never asked me one question. That evening, Waniya briefed everybody. As we were approaching the Volkswagen, we saw the German swastika with the Red Cross next to it. But Waniya had noticed that it was not painted on—it was a banner tied to the back. Waniya got suspicious. This is why he passed the nurse by about three to four hundred feet—he wanted to be as far as possible from any direct fire should his suspicions be proved correct. When the nurse put her hand on that handle inside the truck, and the light shined on her hand, Waniya saw hair growing on her knuckles, this was a man He knew this was no nurse; women don’t have hair growing on their knuckles. He also knew that once the ambusher got inside, it was all over. So in a split-second he made his decision and saved our lives.  The rear window of the Opel was totally shattered. The front windshield had two bullet holes, right through the middle of it. The rear dual wheels had one tire on each side shot out. Thanks to Waniya and his keen sense of observation, we had survived a Partisan attack at very close range. His background and his little engineering addition of the illuminated handle saved our lives. His experience was priceless.






This was my ninth time.  This time, Waniya saved my life.


Most of these conscripts were highly educated. Waniya was a Russian Physicist. Most of the conscripted truckers in the company were educated professionals. They were from all over Russia and Ukraine. In reflecting upon this time, I feel fortunate to have had the opportunity to serve with this elite group. We were almost a family, stuck in a lousy spot together, none of us with any choice. We could not go back because death was certain—be it at German or Soviet hands. Our future was only what we could see ahead of us and most of the time it did not look good. We looked out for each other because if we did not hang together, we would certainly hang separately. Meanwhile, as we watched each other’s backs through years of retreat, the Third Reich was collapsing. All of the industrious activity we were doing to bolster Germany with equipment and supplies soon ended. The next order was to retreat directly to Linz, Austria. Once again we packed up and got back on the road. Feltfebel Klüwa received notice en route that the Russians had advanced so far that they were now even close to surrounding Linz. We changed course to Passau, Bavaria, Germany. Over two years and more than 2,000-mile retreat from Petropavlovka, Ukraine was a race for survival. We were under constant pressure to move while we stripped bare the facilities in our path and appropriated all the foodstuffs we could find. Our mission essentially followed the line of Germany’s Eastern Front as we went from Romania, Hungary, to Poland, and eventually into Germany. Finally my mother and I arrived in our captors’ Fatherland after three years on the bumpiest, muddiest, coldest, most life-threatening roads that anyone could imagine. Our once-mighty transport company had no more factories to disassemble. It had outlived its purpose and had become obsolete. Germany was going to lose the war; it was just a matter of weeks—or even days—now. Yet, the ordeal was not over. We had just a few miles yet to go in order to play the last card in our hand and achieve what we all knew we must do, but could not speak about. However, those precious few last miles to freedom almost cost us our lives once again in one of our closest calls ever. Commanding Officer Feltfebel Klüwa would earn credit once again for saving our lives and managed not to give up to the Russian Forces. However, earlier when we were conscripted under the gun the same Officer told my Mother Nina that if she did not cooperate that we will be shot or send to concentration camp. That Germany needs to produce Tanks, and more Tanks.



                                                                                                        GALIN,S LIBRARY






Already by the time of this photo and later, dated 8 August 1939,

Thousands must have perished who went through this door of the Scharnhorst tank works 123 B. During the time of Concentration Camps.


   Mom Nina and I at the age of twelve have lived in fear and told that we would be sent to concentration camp. Scenes like these from the underground stories that we heard. This is what the war was to me. At the age of fourteen, I was petrified of becoming a prisoner of war. There was so much rage and anger on all sides; we were terrified of the revenge that would be carried out on us—either by instant death or by slow torture and starvation like this. I discarded my German uniform, pictures wearing a German uniform, and my conscript labor ID, into an outhouse and blended in with the local German populace.

Close to the End of the War

Confrontation with Two Pistols Pointing at Each Other’s belly.



                                          GALINS LIBRARY


 Writing below the Eagle


Hitler’s special front line Police Forces

Our life and many other lives were in their hands

Answering only to Hitler


  We had many close calls, but this one was almost an imminent death to us all I was only 10 ft. from this confrontation sitting behind the wheel of a Krupp, a German Truck I was 14 years old. I heard every word and I knew that our life was barely hanging by a thread and that it was ending right here. My first encounter with these German elite front line troopers, shown above and the story on page 86, with my friend Shura, who was almost executed for stealing a sack of wheat. I often think that I could have been with Shura at that time too; we drove many times together on these divertive missions.  Originally we were moving in the direction of the City of Linz but the Russians got there first.     

Changed course. Shortly after starting for Passau, Bavaria Germany. To my front left I saw this frontline motorcycle with by-wagon and two Feldgendarmerie crossing our path. One was driving and the Corporal was manning a fixed machine gun on the by-wagon side, pointing the machine gun at the staff car holding his left hand up. We stopped our convoy of about seven trucks.  He got out of the by-wagon and the other soldier took the seat behind the machine gun. All of our four German troopers had their hands on their weapons also. Within ten feet or so from my truck, this German Corporal of the Hitler’s Special Forces Feldgendarmerie confronted Feltfebel Klüwa. After all, this corporal was confronting a Lieutenant, the company commander. These troops were the front line Military Police and they were Hitler’s elite troopers, controlling the fight and flight on the Russian-German frontlines. They wore special metal badges on their chest to indicate their supreme authority and their decisions could not be questioned regardless of one’s rank. They were known to be ruthless, cold, and completely loyal to the orders of their Füh-rer. The Corporal ordered Lieutenant Klüwa to turn back to the Russian front lines, regroup with other broken up units and fight the Russian Armies. Thus, confrontation ensued. Saved 10th time.  


Feltfebel Edwin Klüwa on the left, the Feldgendarmerie Corporal was first to draw his side arm. With pistols drawn about 10-15 ft. from me driving the Krupp truck with open windows behind the staff car, I was fourteen years old.



(Captured German combat motorcycle). This Corporal with the second   trooper that was driving it. Patrolling the Russian German beleaguered 2000 mile frontlines. 





We watched in horror as the corporal drew his pistol from the holster and ordered Feltfebel Klüwa to turn back to regroup what was left of our company into a fighting unit. It was crisis time for Germany and they were recruiting old men, boys, and transport companies to go to the collapsing front lines. This confrontation was incredibly frightening for us. I watched the expressions on their faces. These were uncompromising in a screaming tone orders. Feltfebel Klüwa made his choice—a choice that put the chance of his own death against the certain death of us all. Drawing his own pistol, he pointed it directly at the corporal. Once the pistols were drawn their voices subsided. It was almost normal conversation. Apparently with a pistol pointing at your belly things changed. This was one of the longest 3-4 minutes during our conscript years. We all knew now that the end of the war was just a matter of time. This was no time for heroism, or blind patriotism in defending Hitler. To be taken prisoner by the Russians would mean certain death as far as anyone was concerned. The only hope that remained for us and this straggling German unit was to surrender to the advancing American troops, who were a short distance of perhaps one day away to the West. With the two pistols pointing at each other, the Feltfebel told the Feldgendarmerie corporal that he had already lost his entire family to Allied bombing in Leipzig Germany, and that he did not intend to lose his life fighting in a useless, hopeless cause. (His story was true.) I remember the day months earlier when I saw him break down and cry after reading a document that a soldier had delivered to him. It was a heart-breaking, horrible thing to see.) The corporal paused, unsure of what to do. But after a few moments, which felt so long to all of us, he then told an identical story, having lost his own family in the Allied bombings of Schweinfurt. The Feltfebel took his chance. He put his pistol back into his holster and turned on his heel. Slowly he walked towards his staff car, giving his orders for the convoy to proceed as originally ordered. We watched all of this frightened beyond words. The corporal, watching him walking away, put his pistol in his holster got in his side wagon and left. No shots were fired.


The Last Leg


   Thus we came to the final battle of the war for us. The company now had to surrender to the Americans at all costs, not the Soviets, if we expected to stay alive. It was for this reason that the Feltfebel had just risked his life. That evening, on the outskirts of a small German village, Klüwa turned his command over to his Unter Oficier (Master Sergeant), saying he would travel ahead to find a suitable place to surrender to the Americans. But here he did something strange—heartless even. He instructed the Unter Oficier to leave Nina, Anneliese, and me in this village. I don’t know what he was thinking.


He had saved our lives so many times yet he must have known that the Russians would overrun this village soon and what our fate would be. Maybe he wanted to put his connection to us—to the daughter he had fathered—behind him. Maybe with the struggles of the past three years he just wasn’t thinking clearly. At any rate, his decision to leave us behind is a black mark on my memory of him, including the ultimatum he had given to my mother. Thankfully the Unter Oficier (Sergeant) took pity on us. He knew the Soviets were close and knew what would happen to this family—who had traveled with them, cooked for them, helped drive their trucks and kept them running—if we fell into the Soviet hands. He simply disobeyed the Feltfebel’s command and personally took us the last miles to the little town of Tittling, on the edge of the American front line, where the Feltfebel had gone to surrender. You see, even though we had been virtual slaves to this German contingent, there had been growing feeling of camaraderie amongst us, German soldiers and conscripts alike. We had worked and traveled together, and had shared the same hardships and fears. That is why the Commanding Officer Klüwa final order stunned us so hard.


April, 1945. This was my 11th time when this Company German Unter Oficir (Sergeant) under Klüwa’s Command, he disobeyed Klüwa’s orders and personally Saved our lives in April, 1945. And took us to surrender to the U.S. Forces.  

































August Laschker, 40 years old, locksmith, father, soldier in the German Army, part of a defense team. As a member of the armed forces He had been taken prisoner by the Americans on March 15, 1945, transferred in good health to the French. Transported in July to Andernach via Schirzig (or Virzig?) to a camp called Épinal. Sent to emergency sickbay with nutritional edema on September 9. On December 1, 1945, he was sent to the American POW General Hospital in Bar le Duc. He was one of many similar cases recuperating there (information from Laschker). Laschker recovered relatively well and was able to travel in January 9, 1946 in a hospital train under the command of Capt. Isaac Handwerker, an American physician, from Bar le Duc to Pfarrkirchen. This trip claimed the lives of three other comrades who although apparently well enough to make the trip could not survive. Dressed only in pajamas these bedridden patients had only three woolen blankets for warmth against the biting cold in the unheated train. Laschker’s medical diagnosis: extreme malnutrition resulting in edema of the stomach cavity (dropsy of the abdomen) ( 8 liters ). The tissue under the skin was completely atrophied and bunched into large folds. Weight 32 kg, height 168 cm. Laschker cannot get out of bed. Circumference of the upper arm around the triceps= 19 cm. His digestion is severely upset, internal organs, particularly the liver and kidneys, are damaged, nutritional edema. Laschker is one of many similar cases. Signed Luther, assistant physician and department  physician. More severe cases were sent to Bar le Duc; some became very apathetic. Many others failed to survive the trip from the camps to the field hospital. Many died in the camps because they were in such bad shape that they could not be transported from the sickbay.  (Dispensary).Walt Millrich (?)   GALINS LIBRARY                                                                        

Translated from original document, with some degree of difficulty. Hand written in outdated old German style. Mom Nina and I at the age of twelve have lived in fear and told that we would be sent to concentration camp. Scenes like these from the underground stories that we heard. This is what the war was to me. At the age of fourteen, I was petrified of becoming a prisoner of war. There was so much rage and anger on all sides; we were terrified of the revenge that would be carried out on us—either by instant death or by slow torture and starvation like this. I discarded my German uniform, pictures wearing a German uniform, and my conscript labor ID, into an outhouse and blended in with the local German populace.



   We arrived in the small town of Tittling, Germany, in April 1945. Spring had come and the weather was getting warmer. The mountains had turned green and the landscape was in bloom. Feltfebel Klüwa wasn’t happy to see us arrive with the Unter Officer. Although the war was still raging in various parts of Germany, as far as he was concerned his role in it was about to end. On this little town of Tittling Square Klüwa decommissioned his company with one last order: “Thanks, and good luck! Go and blend in with the farming community. I hope that all of you get back to your families. That is where you belong in the first place.” By this time we had maybe like three trucks left, including Klüwa’s Opel Blitz, and about six men left. That is all that was left of our company. In the final weeks and days of our retreat, when a truck ran low on gas, it was abandoned. There was no refuel. The Feltfebel kept the Opel Blitz for himself, and told the drivers that they could take the other trucks and offer them as gifts to the farmers that would hopefully take them in. Klüwa then got into his Opel Blitz and disappeared. Some of us stayed overnight in the basement of a large building. That night there was heavy shelling as the Americans descended to take the town. Around 2:00 a.m., when the constant explosions had become almost a bizarre lullaby and all in the basement had drifted off to sleep, my mother—thank God—was still awake. She noticed an unusual display of light outside the door upstairs. When she got up to investigate she found that it was flames. An American shell had made a direct hit and ignited the building. Nina ran back down inside screaming that the building was on fire. In a panic everybody started running out. She couldn’t get back in to grab her baby. Nina screamed, “Does any one know where my baby is?” but nobody answered I was frantically looking for my baby sister. Eventually Mom managed to run back into the basement. It was pitch-black, crawling around on our knees, crying and screaming out for Anneliese. The building above was a total inferno. Finally a voice upstairs cried down, “Nina! Your baby is safe up here!” Somebody had picked her up and ran out when Nina gave the alarm. Baby Anneliese was reunited with us and everyone made their way out of the burning building safely. The next day the American forces moved into the town of Tittling. The war, for us, was finally over. I was very frightened, however, because I was still wearing the special German uniform that had been tailored for me at Feltfebel Klüwa’s orders. I knew that the Americans were supposed to be more humane than the Russians, but still I had no idea what to expect. I discarded not only the German uniform, but also my ID and any pictures that showed me wearing it. Some of the German kids in town gave me trousers and a pullover to help me blend in. The locals also dressed up Anneliese. I am wearing it in a picture holding my six-month-old sister, Anneliese. I was fourteen years old. Of all that we lived through during those savage years.





The last minute of the war was too close for me not to be

Humble, now 14 years old this is the 12th time that my life was saved, this time by my Mother Nina again. It makes me think of this book!  It is to this day my chief regret that I did not keep my German uniform, ID, and the pictures wearing it as mementos by discarding it all into an outhouse, from fear of becoming a POW to the U.S. Troops. So, I did this drawing from memory.



55 years later I did this drawing of me in 1999 in Palm Bay, Florida along with the cover picture, and the bloody foot prints on page 91.  


During our close to three years of retreat, I somehow knew that we would survive. Most of the time we were on an open terrain like sitting ducks except at night traveling with no lights. I remembered often our humble one room Chata with a bake oven that we slept on, dirt floor, no running water, no electricity, and no bathroom, I thought that it was a luxury living. We seldom knew where we would be sleeping the next night, or no sleep at all. Mother Nina was constantly praying to Matka Boska Czestochowska-the Black Madonna at Jasna Gora Monastery. I only prayed when our life was threatened and was scared. I envy my Mother Nina to this day for her dedication to prayer. I am convinced that Nina’s prayers got us through the worst of times when it seemed that there was no return to life as we know it, when you were left with only hope and a prayer.      








April 1945, when we surrendered, I was fourteen years old and Anneliese was six months old. Regrettably, out of fear I discarded my German uniform and my German labor ID card into an outhouse. The clothing, pullover and trousers were given to me and Anneliese by the locals


   To our amazement we found that the Americans did not really care where we came from. The first thing they did, knowing that we had eaten little for weeks, was to provide meals for everyone. Among other foods that the Americans gave us, were Corn Flakes. I still remember the little box with wax paper lining inside. Just pour in milk and you could eat on the run. I love it to this day. Another thing they gave us was corned beef in a tin can, complete with its own can opener. Wow! I have been eating corned beef ever since. Of course there were pancakes. I have never since had pancakes that were that good. Now I have to settle for IHOP or make them myself. There is nothing better than hot

Pancakes with maple syrup, or any syrup—or even honey. Soon the American occupation of Tittling came to be normal. The townspeople had long since resigned themselves to the fact that Germany was going to lose the war. When they found the Americans friendly and helpful they were grateful. The GI’s all had a great sense of humor; we actually had a good time with them around. Soon the initial US front line troops that took this little Bavarian town of Tittling continued their advance. The second wave of US Troops are the ones who we had the most fun with probably because they had more time to spend with us. This was the fun part besides the food that we were given.



April 1945, Tittling i Dreiburgenland Bavaria Germany On this square, we surrendered I was fourteen years old and for the first time I became a free man. Mom, little Anneliese and I were taken in by Mr. Habereder, He was extremely good to us, especially 6 months old Anneliese. He was a Berger mister he also owned a Guesthouse and a movie theater. I worked as a (Knecht) farm hand we were fed very well and got to see a movie for free.  The Guesthouse is the first Building on the left. The first building on the right had a direct hit by the US Forces caught on fire; 2:00 AM, Mother Nina was awake and saved us all.




1952 I returned 7 years later as a U.S. Soldier. I was 22 years old.

   On this Square in this small Bavarian Town of Tittling, 26 kilometers Northeast of the City of Passau in Germany with what was left of our small convoy, we surrendered to the American Forces in April, 1945 It also was here in 1951 when I came back on leave after I joined the US Army to visit my Mom and my Sister, Anne, before I was shipped to the U.S. And than Korea. Walking from the railroad station through this same square to surprise my Mom and Anne. Now a U.S. Soldier. I stopped and looked around. Frankly, I was choked up. Regrettably, out of fear I discarded my German uniform and my German labor ID card into an outhouse. And now six years later, I am one of the U.S. Forces that I surrendered to after the war. Needless to say, this was one of the most joyful moments in my life. It was tough to walk the rest of the way to my Mom’s door without tears in my eyes or face someone that I recognized I just said, “Hi,” and kept on going. I needed some time to put myself together before reaching Mom’s door.






Was created on August 25, 1944. It stopped November 1944

It had delivered well over 500,000 tons of supplies to the front.


   The second waves of US Troops are the ones that we had the most fun with probably because they had more time to spend with us. The fun part, besides the food that we were given; was that the majority of these US Troops were Black Americans. They told us many funny stories, one of which was that they were night fighters. Once we put two-and two together we had lots of healthy laughs. They also had chewing gum, but to us it looked like they were chewing cud, like the cows do. We had never seen chewing gum until then and that alone was lots of fun. Majority were driving deuce-and-a-half, 2½-ton trucks. Only after I became one of them and served five years in the US Army, worked and maintained these trucks in Korea that I began to put some of these pieces together. These troops were with the RED BALL EXPRESS. These black troopers were writing history with their dedication and critical service to this nation and an incredible role in winning the war. It was not enough for the US Armed Forces 6,000 Cargo Ships to go by the only route available, 5,000 miles from shore to shore through the most treacherous parts of the Atlantic Ocean; to be preyed upon and many of them sunk by the German U-Boats; to supply Day One, the day after D-Day for the entire US and the Allied Forces. All of this precious military cargo would have been sitting on the beaches at very critical moments. The US Forces were moving rather swiftly towards Berlin. The war material at times was in critical shortage. On certain days, from jeeps to tanks, over 800,000 gallons of gasoline was consumed. In addition, some 6,000 Aircraft were taking part in the Normandy invasion. For every soldier on the front line it takes three people to supply and sustain him. August 25 1944 the Red Ball Express was created, to supply the ever fast-advancing US Armed Forces towards Berlin. These Black US troopers with the Red Ball Express are a part of our history and deserve our highest respect. With close to 7000 trucks they drove around the clock with little sleep or maintenance on those trucks. They had to keep supplying in order to win the war, and win the war they did. These were the US Troops that left a positive impression on this fourteen-year-old kid and a memorable positive picture of the U.S.A. Again, before long, this second wave of American troops moved on. The war was officially over in Europe on May 8, 1945 and the long process of putting lives back together began. Even though we were Polish Ukrainians living in Germany just after the war we were generally accepted. My mother was known throughout the war and in the aftermath as Lina to the Germans another alteration of our names. Everyone in town knew that Anneliese was Feltfebel Klüwa’s daughter.









That made it easier for Nina to find a place to live and to receive a small Unterstitzung (subsidy) from the German government over the next few years. And while I stayed in Tittling, the locals continued to call me Adolf—a name that stuck with me for a while. At any rate, Tittling treated us well. When Mom, Lina, began to receive some help from the German Government we rented one room and moved to Marille’s Parent’s House 7½ Siebenhasen Strasse in Tittling, Bavaria. Erik was my first true friend with my new freedom. Erik’s Father, Herr Ernthaller owned a barber shop Erik was also Ein Frizzier. In the evenings in the barber shop with open windows with Erik playing zither we would sing and yodel, our followers, which was the whole Town of Tittling was gathering one by one. Some with baby carriages, everyone was quiet. Cigarettes glowing in the dark except when they joined us and sang on a beautiful summer nights. We also would impersonate these two comedians Hans Moser and Tiolingen, when we went to a guest house, inevitably we were asked to do the number. The locals had a blast and so did we.




            My best Buddy (Erik) Ernthaller   Marille Bauer and Max


As the war wound down, no one knew where Feltfebel Klüwa had gone. Several weeks later, however, a local woman informed Nina that he was living about six kilometers from Tittling on a farm with a lady friend. One sunny day near the end of May, my Mother and I took Anneliese in a baby carriage that was given to us by a German family. We walked the six kilometers to this farm. When we found the place, my Mother, suddenly shy, stopped with Anneliese about two hundred feet from the house. Going on ahead, I knocked on the door. Klüwa opened the door, and it was with great shock that he saw my Mother and then me and Anneliese in the distance. Hurriedly, he told me to wait with them, and then went back inside and shut the door. The Feltfebel came back out and joined us in a while, carrying bread, milk, and blankets, calling us his family. He laid out the blankets on the grass for us, and we all settled down on them. Anneliese was asleep but he continually talked to her, calling her “my pretty, beautiful daughter.”

He asked us if we were doing all right and getting enough to eat. We told him we were. We talked for a little while, and then he lay down, facing Anneliese. He stayed out with us through the entire evening and night, until early the next morning—and then, suddenly, without a word, he got up and went back into the house. When dawn came, we walked silently back to Tittling. Most of the terrain was hilly, with many pine trees on both sides, very peaceful. I was pushing the carriage with Anneliese in it. She was quiet. Nina was quietly crying as she walked behind us. This was the last we ever saw Feltfebel Edwin Klüwa, the man with whom we had survived so much; the man who had forced my mother at gunpoint to be his “companion,” and so fathered my sister, Anneliese; the man who had given me the uniform that had kept me from the cold through all those terrible years. A very big chapter in our lives was over.

Just a Word about Anneliese


   It is true that a newborn baby will upset a family’s normal routine in their house. Then it also must be true that during our retreat in the last year of World War II, the responsibility of caring for Anneliese must have been incredibly difficult for my mother. She was, after all, the daughter of our captor. But it has been said that the bigger the responsibility and the difficulties, the bigger the rewards. In our case, it could have not been truer. This baby gave Nina another reason to survive. And she loved her with all her heart. But Anne—as we call her now—has given so much more back to our family. From the day she graduated from high school in Cleveland, Ohio, she took over the household. She had a short marriage that sadly ended in divorce after her husband came home from Vietnam: It was evident that he had left some of his faculties there. He frequently would be playing on the carpeted living room floor, a Smith & Wesson .38 revolver with bullets strewn all around. It was very unsettling to say the least. It was a hard decision for Annie to make but it was the right one. Anne would take care of our mother for the rest of Nina’s life. Nina died at home in Anne’s care on February 23, 1998. Nina was 88 years old. I often thought what life would have been for Nina and me if it were not for Anneliese. I’ve had wanderlust ever since I was a boy, hearing my father’s tales of escape and, as horrifying as our times as German conscripts were, it also fueled the adventurer in me. Over the years I have tried, it seems, every job and sales position that crossed my path, traveling state-to-state, far and wide. I couldn’t have given my mother the home life that she deserved. But Anne could and did. Nina was in good hands with her. And because of Anne, Nina never spent one day locked away in a nursing home.




                                                                                                                               GALIN’S LIBRARY


The day of the German Reich in the Realm Capitol. 12:00 noon, September 4, 1938. Traffic is quiet as an airplane squadron thunders over the Memorial Church of Berlin. Today, the Church itself is a memorial site. It was heavily damaged during World War II and never rebuilt. Its ruins stand now as a ghostly reminder of terrible times.


In 1938 my Father Josef was deported to Siberia for the second time by the dictator Josef Stalin of the Soviet Union I was seven years old. Not knowing that by the age of eleven Mom Nina and I will be conscripted as Nazi laborers by the German Army. The airplane squadron above would become a very memorable and frightening sight. 













And my Perverse Debt to Hitler for his blunders.

1940 Dunkirk France


   Hitler’s blunders may have saved our lives and lead us to freedom. In May 1940, France fell to the Germans. The British and the French were pushed in to the sea but instead of wiping out the helpless British and French troops, May 26, 1940 Hitler ordered his ground forces to halt and allowed Göring’s air squadrons to finish the job. Why did he do it? Cockiness? Madness? As a consequence, the R.A.F. saved the day by inflicting heavy losses on Göring’s squadrons. Seven day “Operation Dynamo” began to save the trapped troops, May 27, to June 4, 1940 Over 150 British Military Ships, over 300 fishing boats of all sizes plucked out of the see and bringing home 338,226 men over the treacherous 95 mile of British Channel to fight Hitler once again. This was British courage at its best. What if Hitler had occupied England? Who would have been left to resist him? From where could the U.S. have launched the assaults that would help turn the tide of the war four years later—certainly not from across the entire Atlantic! There would have been no invasion of Normandy—or anywhere else for that matter. It was remarkably costly and a strategically wrong move to let England out of his grasp. This, I believe, is where our destiny took the harder road and took us to freedom. Hitler would have invaded the Soviet Union for sure, but if he had taken England first, there would have been no freedom for many people on this globe. Even as late as February of 1942, when the Soviet Union was on its heels amidst the Nazi invasion, Stalin offered Hitler a separate peace being negotiated between SS General Karl Wolf and Vsevolod Merkulov of the Soviet security apart in Mtsensk, Byelorussia. Stalin would have to “solve the Jewish question” in the USSR, meaning the murdering of all the Jews—murder being something that did not trouble the conscience of the Soviet leader. Fortunately, this pact did not come to pass. But his madness didn’t end there. It expanded to the East and it brought my mother and me into its sphere. By ignoring the lessons of history, Hitler encountered the exact same fate as Napoleon did in 1812 Napoleon met his generals at Niemen River the pantones were already in place across the rive, Napoleon gave the orders for the invasion into Russia 130 years earlier. 130 years later June 22, 1941 Hitler invades Russia and got bogged down in its terrible winter as Napoleon did. Hitler’s army’s hasty retreat set the stage for my mother and me to get out from under Stalin’s vice-grip and begin our strange road to freedom. For us it was the strangest fate. We had to leave under the gun, and yet we did not know that we were actually being freed and leaving for America, as my family had always wanted to do. 







Our freedom was via German Army and then Germany itself. Only life itself can manifest its sometimes-cruel irony. Next, by Göbels labeling all Slavic peoples, Gypsies, Romanians, Hungarians, and Jews as “untermenschen” (sub-humans), Hitler gave his conquered peoples a very good reason to resist him with all their strength. The alternative was all too clear. At the age of eleven I saw the Partisans’ resolve and dedication to rid the Soviet Union of the German forces. At thirteen, I saw the Poles’ resolve as my transport truck I was driving in as a second driver was shot to pieces on a desolate highway outside Warsaw. The German cause was hopeless in the face of such resistance, and yet, on Hitler went. Finally, by drawing the U.S. into the war, Hitler made an enemy of the largest industrial superpower on the planet and sealed his own fate. When American troops rolled through the heart of Europe to restore peace, my family and I got this extraordinary chance at a life of freedom and opportunity. When I look back at the war years, it’s sobering how lucky I was. It’s sobering to realize how many people I owe my life to—the R.A.F., British “Royal Air Force,” the British people, the French, Polish, Russian, and Norwegian Resistance, and some 405,399 American GI’S that never returned home to their loved ones. British Pilots were endowed with an incredible fighting spirit. In a four-day period, in dogfights including German bombers, they shot down over 360 German combat airplanes over England and over the English Channel. British Spitfire fighters, even though they were outnumbered ten-to-one, did win over the German Luftwaffe. Hitler stops his Air Force from the attacks on London and continued his attacks on London with V1 and V2 rockets, their version of the cruise missile. In saving his Air Force for the invasion of Russia, Hitler sealed his fate once again. Therefore much of the credit should be given to the Spitfire Engines—Rolls-Royce Merlin and Griffon. Merlin Air Craft Engines produced by Rolls Royce literally saved Britain and the world from the German Reich.

Thanks to Hitler’s Blunders


By not releasing  some of the Panzer Divisions from Calais, France to Normandy Beaches, at Field Marshal Rommel’s request. Calais was a bogus invasion, a deception set up by the US and the British Forces to keep Hitler’s Divisions at Calais while the actual invasion would take place on Normandy Beaches France. In command of this bogus operation was General Patton. Hundreds of rubber tanks were produced by Good year and by Goodrich tire Companies in Akron, Ohio and shipped to England. The British O.S.S. (The Office of Strategic Services) and the US had an outstanding deception operation in place, including air insurgency into Hitler’s territory. Marshal Rommel did not believe In Calais invasion, Hitler did, Hitler was wrong Rommel was right.









With blunders, the war for Hitler was loosing ground right from the beginning. General Manstein, one of Germany’s best Combat Tacticians, walking out of Hitler’s bunker, said to one of his staff Officers “That little Corporal is an idiot.” March 1944 General Manstein was dismissed for standing up to the Fuehrer. Thanks to Winston Churchill, especially for the creation of O.S.S. Not enough was said about the Polish Underground Spies. Polish born men and women trained in Britain, they were flown with a special build airplane with special fuel tanks to flay them to Poland, drop them off in a special area and return back non stop. This was an 800 mile trip in those days. It was no small accomplishment, especially, the fact that this plane was highly dangerous to fly. It was highly unstable on take offs until some of the fuel was used up before it was comfortable to fly. These fuel tanks were built into the planes entire underbelly. At times Great Brittan had only two weeks of fuel supply left.

It was Hitler’s for taking it. God and courage has to have been with the British.


 By not occupying England Hitler lost the war.