Authors: Anna Nevzlin, Ester Aziza
Translated by Lena Lores

Tsilya Abramovna Katsovskaya was born on December 18, 1922, in the town of Narodychi, Zhytomyr region, into a Jewish family—Abram Moiseevich and Rivka Mikhailovna Katsovskaya. She grew up with her two brothers—both named Mikhail, one older and one younger—in an atmosphere of love and care. According to Jewish tradition, boys were named after men of the previous generation, so the children were named in honor of their grandfathers, Moses and Michael. But at the civil registry office, both were officially recorded in the Soviet manner as Mikhail.

The family later moved to Kyiv, where the girl attended a Kyiv school, dreamed, and made plans for the future. After completing eight grades, Tsilya began working. From 1939 she worked as an accountant at the State Bank, right in the center of Kyiv, on the beautiful Institutskaya Street descending toward Khreshchatyk. That same year, 1939, she became a member of the Komsomol (the All-Union Leninist Young Communist League). Tsilya spoke Russian and Ukrainian, knew some German, and also spoke Yiddish, which was sometimes used at home. She had a profession, a stable job, and prospects. But the war destroyed all plans.

In September 1941, as German troops were encircling Kyiv, the Katsovskaya family did not manage to evacuate in time. Realizing the danger ahead, the parents insisted that at least nineteen-year-old Tsilya leave the city immediately. But on September 22, 1941, Tsilya, together with other refugees, was taken prisoner in the Borshchahivka area. In the very first minutes she burned her Komsomol membership card. That document meant a death sentence. On September 29, 1941—the very day the Babyn Yar tragedy began—Tsilya already understood what was happening. Her parents, Rivka Mikhailovna Katsovskaya and Abram Moiseevich Katsovsky, as well as her younger brother, twelve-year-old Mikhail Abramovich, were shot on the orders of the German command at Babyn Yar. Her older brother, Mikhail Abramovich (26 at the start of the war), had been serving in the Red Army since 1938. It turned out that the parents saved their daughter at the cost of their own lives…

Together with other civilians, Tsilya was sent by the Germans to a filtration camp in Boryspil, on the outskirts of Kyiv. Behind barbed wire, the girl spent several days there. The uncertainty was crushing: before her eyes, prisoners were taken away and never returned—each day could be the last. On October 1, 1941, Tsilya managed to escape from the camp thanks to the help of an unknown Ukrainian woman who risked her own life for someone else’s child. Introducing herself as Tsilya’s mother, she led her out through a gate not intended for Jews and helped her hide. The name of this righteous woman remained unknown, but her deed remained forever in the heart of the one she saved.

That same day, October 1, 1941, having escaped from the camp, Tsilya returned to her family apartment—the Pechersk district, Lastovskogo Street (now Stepana Kovnira), building 5, apartment 7. But she could not enter: the door was sealed. A neighbor, opening her door just a crack, quietly said, “Run. They’re taking yours and killing them.” Behind her, in the hallway of the neighbor’s apartment, Tsilya saw their sewing machine—hers and her mother’s—everything that remained of their former life. Tsilya did not blame the neighbor. Everyone understood: if she didn’t take it, others would loot it, and a sewing machine meant the chance to work from home, the chance to survive. Tsilya had neither time nor opportunity to take anything. She turned and ran away empty-handed—forever saying goodbye to childhood, to home, to her former life.

Tsilya headed east. She had no belongings, no money; she slept wherever she could and struggled with all her strength just to survive. Along the way she met another refugee, an elderly man named Andrey Shevtsov. The old man had recently been released from some camp himself and was making his way to settle in Taganrog. His fate mirrored that of his young companion: his father, mother, and brothers had been shot at Babyn Yar. He had managed, however, to save some jewelry—everything that remained of his murdered family—and carried it with him. Two people who had lost everything became a support for one another and continued the journey together.

Understanding the mortal danger facing a Jewish girl, Andrey Shevtsov came up with a new name for Tsilya—Lidiya Andreevna Shevtsova—and introduced her as his daughter. On the road it was Tsilya who went to markets in villages and towns, trading the old man’s jewelry for food for them both. Andrey hid in some shelter at that time. And so they walked together, sharing meager food and preserving hope for one another.

By January 1942, Tsilya and Andrey had reached Zaporizhzhia. There they managed to find shelter in the depot of the Zaporizhzhia railway station. The old man still intended to reach Taganrog, but for the time being they decided to stop there. Tsilya continued to live under the name Lidiya Andreevna Shevtsova, Andrey’s daughter. She went to the market, exchanging the remaining valuables for food, which they then shared. Andrey could not go to the market himself—it was too dangerous. The two of them depended entirely on each other…

Following the advice of her experienced companion, Tsilya registered at the labor exchange. Soon she went, as usual, to the market with another of Andrey’s gold items to trade for food. But this time her luck ran out—the girl was caught in a raid. The Germans seized her right at the market. The gold was confiscated. Without losing her composure, Tsilya gave the name her companion had invented for her: “Shevtsova Lidiya Andreevna.” It saved her life—the Germans believed she was not Jewish. But now the road back, to her elderly fellow sufferer, was cut off…

On June 2, 1942, by summons (a distribution order issued by the Germans), Tsilya was deported to Germany. She was taken away from the Zaporizhzhia-1 station. She lost contact forever with old man Shevtsov, who had saved her by giving her a new name, presenting her as his daughter, and keeping her from starving to death. For the rest of her life, Tsilya was tormented by an unbearable thought: she had gone to the market with his valuables and never returned. She had no way to tell him that the Germans had seized her. What did he think? That she had taken the gold and simply ran off, leaving him alone? She did not betray his trust—but he would never know that… Under the name Lidiya Andreevna Shevtsova, she lived through the entire war in Germany.

On June 22, 1942, Tsilya was assigned to forced labor at Dr. Mitzler’s chemical factory in Berlin. She worked there until April 21, 1944—almost two years. The hazardous chemical production permanently damaged her health. She lived in Berlin, in the factory workers’ camp at Gudel, Building 1. The document under which she lived and worked was called an Arbeitkarte (work card). It was issued to a Russian woman named Shevtsova Lidiya Andreevna. Tsilya continued to conceal her Jewish origin, though it was not easy. Every day was a test: she did everything she could to control her habits, watched every word so as not to give herself away, not to slip into familiar Yiddish expressions from childhood—especially when speaking German. One careless word could cost her life.

But then a miracle happened. Or rather, first the inevitable occurred. Her barrack mates informed on her. The very fact that Tsilya understood German—which was natural for someone who knew Yiddish—betrayed her origins. Despite all her efforts to control her speech, her knowledge of the language still showed through. Her secret became known to the factory owner, Dr. Mitzler—but he did not report her to anyone. He saved her life.

In 1943, Tsilya suffered an acute attack of appendicitis and underwent emergency surgery; soon after, she fell ill with tuberculosis. Both times she was saved by a female camp employee who worked under Dr. Mitzler. This woman showed humanity where inhumanity reigned. Medicines were found for Tsilya, and she was treated for a long time. She continued working at the same place, but due to her health condition, on September 21, 1944, Tsilya was transferred from the dangerous chemical production to a machine-building factory in the Müchenwalde camp in the Berlin district. In Müchenwalde she worked in the kitchen. She remained there until April 22, 1945, living in the factory camp under the same Arbeitkarte.