Sofia Rusova’s Memories During the Period of the Ukrainian People’s Republic

Sofia Rusova

My memories
XXI

When the Germans reached Ukraine, things became easier for a bit: The Bolsheviks calmed down, some kind of order was established, and most importantly, Ukraine abolished the war against Western powers with the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk and became one of the independent sovereign nations. I will never forget the celebration in the residence of the Central Rada when all the upper rooms were covered with carpets, and decorated with flowers, and our young women, elegantly dressed, socialized with members of embassies from various states that had already recognized Ukraine as a separate republic. On the steps, guards stood in the form of handsome mariners of the Black Sea Fleet. 

However, later, the relations between the Germans and the Central Rada government soon deteriorated, and Hetman Skoropadskyi replaced it. Some Ukrainians, including Mykola Mikhnovsky, Liudmyla Cherniakhivska, and the Shemet Brothers, were very glad about the changes. They were the people of true Ukrainian nationalism, and the Hetmanate for them was considered to be stable and capable of ensuring state security for Ukraine. However, we, the members of the Central Rada, saw the artificial nature and uncertainty of this statehood based on foreign support. 

A well-known russofile Mykola Vasylenko became the Minister of Education. Under his leadership, the Ukrainization of education, previously actively promoted by Steshenko, continued but very idly. In addition, executions that were performed in the countryside either by the German soldiers or the Hetmanate Cossacks greatly stunted our efforts. The countryside was groaning under oppression, in fires, and nobody knew what the purpose of those monstrosities was. Discontentment was growing. The Bolsheviks profited from it, secretly continuing their hostile actions in Ukraine. Russian World Delegation, with Rakovskyi in charge in Kyiv, helped the local Bolsheviks. Around that time, Kyiv experienced yet another tragedy: the explosion of military supply depots at the Zvirynets, an act almost certainly orchestrated by the Bolsheviks. The explosion caused significant loss of lives and devastated an entire neighborhood. As a result, Ukrainian national circles became more alert and began mobilizing their forces. Even Hetmanate supporters grew disillusioned with the Hetman and, alongside Ukrainian political parties, were forming a united national anti-Hetman front. This led to the creation of the National Union under the leadership of Vynnychenko. The Hetman started to surround himself with pro-Russian figures, and rumors began to spread that he was negotiating a federation with Russia – an idea that was deeply disturbing at that time. There were frequent discussions among Ukrainian circles about whether to support Hetman or participate in his government when he invited progressive Ukrainians to take governmental positions. Almost unanimously, the answer was always negative. The brief participation of Socialist-Revolutionaries in Lysohub’s cabinet and their unsuccessful attempt to steer the Hetmanate policies toward Ukrainian priorities only confirmed the correctness of the National Union’s view.

Yet, at that moment, the thought about completing Hetman’s isolation started to develop. Carrying out an appropriate Coup d’état and replacing the Hetmanate with the republic again, but who would be put in charge? Meanwhile, the hazard from the Bolsheviks was rising day after day—they were moving towards Ukraine another time. The Bolsheviks in Kyiv were already openly active, recruiting supporters at rallies. 

By that time, Petliura had been released from prison. I met him at the meeting of the National Union. I will never forget that meeting in the little room of the new club at the corner of Prorizna Street. There were few of us, no women, except me. Petliura, a bit tired of the prison life but still with those radiant eyes, was sitting in military uniform in front of me. Vynnychenko, in charge, opened a meeting with a painful question: “Today, we must decide whether we have the strength to take off the Hetmanate with its Moscophilia and foreign authorities. Otherways, we must obey it.” The silence filled the room. The question was posed bluntly, and everyone hesitated to say the final word. But I couldn’t be silent: the actions of Kistiakowsky, Skoropadsky’s fellowship with Russians, their influx into Kyiv from all corners of Russia, the Germans with their dragoons in the countryside – all of this was deeply troubling and undermined the very idea of the independent Ukraine. It was impossible to endure this in silence any longer. Especially now, with Petliura released from prison, we had someone capable of leading an uprising. My position was supported by others, and we decided that Petliura would get down to business immediately. Even during my work in the Union of Cities and the Central Rada, Petliura gained great popularity among the military bases and peasantry, so we believed that at his call, the nation would rise. We dispersed late that night, filled with a sense of inspiration and determination. 

It was a moonlit night, and the streets were already empty, with my footsteps echoing loudly. We lived on Volodymyrska Street, just past the University. As I walked, I recalled events from the time of the Hetmanate. Among them, there was only one bright moment worth mentioning here – the opening of the University in Kamianets. 

We arrived there by the special train – the whole Ministry of Education, the representatives of other ministries, educational organizations, etc. It was autumn. Kamianets made an impression as a southern city with gardens full of fruit and trees in golden coloring. Prykhodko, Solukha, Sichynskyi, and others – the representatives of Kamianets intelligentsia and organizers of the University, welcomed us there. There indeed was an opportunity for the University: lots of archives, two local museums, and a large seminary building. In addition, it was so close to Galicia, to Europe. Everyone was saying that it was the first step to the window to Europe, to its science. Nobody even thought that in the walls that we gladly dedicated to science, exactly this science and the scientists would be pressed; that the hands of the Bolsheviks would carefully brick up this window from the “bourgeoisie” Europe. After the official celebration, each of us was invited to dinner. A lot of speeches were given on political and cultural issues. Yet, the speech that impressed me the most was the speech by Mykyta Shapovalov, which was too socialistic and revolutionary, which indeed was something we had already begun to move away from at that time. Many people seemed to find that speech too left-wing and extreme. I did not personally know him then, only as a poet and a critic in “Ukrainska Khata” (Ukrainian House) under the pseudonym Sriblianskyi, often in opposition to Yefremov in literary critiques. However, his speech was delivered with such fervor that it was clear – this person was completely genuine in his beliefs, especially back then because Shapovalov was one of the initiators of the uprising and deeply felt the painful side of the Ukrainian identity. Ohienko was selected as a rector of the University who was known back then solely as a dedicated philologist and an author of Ukrainian Grammar. It was the right choice because Ohienko immediately dedicated himself to the organization of the new University, professional collegium, library, and the launching of a laboratory. This was really an ambitious person who spared neither his own strength nor that of his colleagues to enhance his authority. Thereafter, during the Directorate of Ukraine, he held two positions – the Minister of Education and the Rector. Even though all the work was laid on the shoulders of P.Kholodnyi, nothing could proceed without Ohienko’s agreement and acknowledgment. It slowed things down a bit, frequently causing various disputes. Ohienko’s petty ambition went so far that even in ordinary matters, one could not address him other than as “Mr. Minister” or “Mr. Rector.” However, this pettiness should be forgiven. Ohienko’s exceptional diligence and unwavering dedication to Ukrainian matters, often supported at personal risk, ensured that he remained steadfast in guarding these matters until the very last moment. 

Meanwhile, the situation in Kyiv was becoming worse and worse. Naumenko was entitled to be the Minister of Education in the last period of the Hetmanate. May he rest in peace! The Bolsheviks tortured him, and with noble courage, he accepted a martyr’s death for Ukraine. Although many of Naumenko’s achievements were attributed to his skill in balancing on two fronts, he contributed significantly to Ukrainian culture, being a man of exceptional intellect and broad education. And there, when Naumenko became the Minister of Education during that challenging period when the whole Ukrainian public was outraged against the Hetmanate, the government was not standing still because of the Russian pressure, uprisings were started in the countryside, he issued a call for the youth to defend their state by enlisting in the ranks of the Hetmanate army. Not only was the appeal issued to university students, but to high school students. Senior officials in the Ministry were deeply outraged by their leader’s move. We were also frustrated by the fact that Naumenko had full control over the Ministry of Education, even though the responsibility for the actions was in our hands. We were meeting to decide whether to resign. I had a close relationship with Naumenko, he was my godfather and a family friend. I came to talk to him not only in an official but friendly way. I informed him about my resignation and told him that the kind of appeal for our students to march to their death could not be issued by the Ministry of Education. Such an appeal might be made in desperation by the Ministry of War or the head of the government, but not by educators whose duty is to shield the youth from harm, not turn them into chaire a canon. Naumenko knew that we, the Hetmanate opposition, were most outraged by the fact that our youth were being sacrificed not so much to defend their homeland but to defend the Hetman, whose poor governance had plunged Ukraine into such a dire state. At the end of our conversation, I said: “Volodymyr Pavlovych, if you do not withdraw this call, let me resign since I cannot reconcile the Ministry’s direction with my principles.” I handed him my resignation request. Naumenko heartlessly read it and said, “I did not accept your resignation because I could not see the reasons for it. And if your allies were in power, would they not have done the same as I am doing? And then would you not support them?” Meanwhile, the call attracted only obligated military personnel and entirely unaware youth. These Hetmanate volunteers gathered in the Pedagogical Museum, the former meeting place of the Central Rada. Conscious Ukrainians fled to join the insurgents or sought refuge in the German camp in Sviatoshyn, waiting out the situation to avoid supporting the Hetmanate government. The Hetman himself was largely ignored; the name on everyone’s lips was Petliura, who had gained the respect and trust of Ukrainian society. Government ministries had almost ceased functioning, as Kyiv was cut off from the rest of Ukraine by the insurgents.

Everyone at that time was meticulously watching over Petliura to find out what he was doing and from which side the insurgents would arrive. Skoropadskyi’s supporters were leaving him, whether by fleeing Kyiv or trying to hide. Gradually, parts of Petliura’s army moved toward Kyiv, and finally, the day when Petliura himself entered the city arrived. Ukrainian flags were waving along Bibikovsky Boulevard as the insurgent Cossacks, dusty but spirited, were marching proudly. The entire city came out to welcome them, showering Petliura and his army with flowers. Meanwhile, from the other end of Kyiv, on Lypky, the former Hetman, disguised, was fleeing the city and Ukraine. At the time Cossacks came to the Hetman palace, it was already empty – the guards and staff had already fled. Everyone was so happy that they did not even think about searching for Skoropadskyi. A distinctive trait of Petliura was his noble treatment of opponents – he sought no revenge. In the joyous atmosphere, the citizens and city authorities organized a ceremonial banquet in honor of Petliura and his commanders at the Ukrainian Club. We were having so much fun there! We wholeheartedly welcomed our victors, and I, too, offered my sincerest greetings. Petliura, as always, humbly deflected praise, attributing the success to the bravery of his comrades, especially praising heroes like Bolbochan and Sokyrka. Who could have imagined the tragic fate awaiting them?

The former Hetman’s chamber housed the new republican government, the Directorate: Vynnychenko, Andrievsky, Petliura, Shvets, and Makarenko. The new Ukrainian republic life had begun. However, in the building of the Central Rada yet were arrested, the so-called “volunteers”, who, by order of the Hetman, had to defend Kyiv from “bandits.” They had nothing to do with the Hetman, nor did they have any fellowship towards Petliura. They simply had to join the army as conscripts. And they were waiting for their destiny. Among them was my nephew, Oleksandr Rusov. When I visited to check on his situation, I found many mothers outside the building, desperately pleading with me to save their sons. There were even high-ranking ladies trying to speak to me in Ukrainian, as well as genuine Ukrainian women. I assured them that the new Ukrainian government would never punish unaware youths. My son Yurko and I vouched for all the boys we knew, and soon, they were all released.

Quickly, the Ministry of Education and the Teachers’ Union became active again. Teachers who had been previously arrested by Kistiakowsky were released. The government allocated significant funds to support educators. We were working well but not for too long. Rumors began to spread that Petliura and Vynnychenko conflicted due to their difference in views. Petliura remained a Menshevik Social Democrat, while Vynnychenko, as he later admitted in his book “The Rebirth of a Nation”, leaned toward communism. These differences, both principled and tactical, eventually led to a rift between the two prominent leaders of the uprising and contributed to the disorganization of the Directorate.  The Central Rada was replaced with Labor Congress which met in January of 1919. The Congress had already established an agenda that included matters like the internal structure of the government. In addition, the Congress would decide the future of the Directorate, of which there was a question on whether it should be kept, restructured, or replaced with otherwise governance. This question was left without an answer. Congress meetings were held under the pressure of the Bolsheviks, who had once again besieged Kyiv. And just like it was during the times of the Central Rada, there was a pressing deficiency of soldiers. I could never fathom this fact: only two months ago, we gladly welcomed a highly confident army that had been marching to Kyiv alongside Petliura. What happened to the army now? Part of it was engaged in combat with the Bolsheviks deep into Sloboda Ukraine, with Bolbochan at the helm of the best formations. Nevertheless, the city of Kyiv, the holy capital of the recently established state, was left without help. Once again, plans for evacuation started being discussed.

Christmas was upsetting. My daughter, together with Olha and her kids, was going to the countryside in the Chernihiv region at Christmas. I was trying to discourage them from going because the Bolsheviks had been already in charge in Konotop and other towns of the Chernihiv region. However, she wanted to provide the best holidays for her children, so she said she would come back on New Year. Yet, we saw each other only in two years. My son, Yurko, was appointed as an assistant at Kamianets University and left for there with the General Staff, where a relative of ours was serving. In January 1919, the government successfully evacuated to Vinnytsia. Everyone was saying that there was no danger and the government would be back in place in 2-3 weeks. I believed it, even though now I do not know the groundings of my pink hopes back then. Everyone knew that the Bolsheviks had much more power, and we were powerless. I did not want to evacuate for a long time since I always thought that it was a sign of weakness and a lack of endurance. The Ministry of Education had left by that time, and my friends had left as well and were encouraging me to evacuate. Some spies were circling my place, but I had no idea that my cook and her husband were Bolshevik spies as well. It was hard to leave the Teachers’ Union, where I was in charge, but I had to do something since the last evacuation trains were about to leave. I comforted myself with the thought that I was leaving for just two weeks and did not hide any of my belongings or my daughter’s. I entrusted my apartment to Miss Donets, my assistant from the Froebel Institute of Kyiv, and Mrs. Zerova, who was expecting a child and had no place to stay. The train was set to depart at noon. At 8 PM, our Teachers’ Council gathered – Doroshkevych, Bakulinskyi, and two or three others. Everyone was gloomy, as if the ground was shaking beneath them, and the future appeared cloudy and ominous. But there was no time for sentimentality. We settled financial accounts, and resolved pending issues, and I passed the chairmanship to Doroshkevych before saying goodbye to my dear colleagues. Little did we know that it was almost forever. I rushed home with a small bundle – after all, it was only for two weeks! – and then headed to the station. There, only by chance, meeting someone who recognized me, I managed to get a seat in a carriage with a Romanian-Serbian mission heading to Odesa. In a paralyzed state, I sat through the entire night, thinking of my daughter and grandchildren, who could no longer return to Kyiv, and of the overbearing reality of the state’s dire condition.

In the morning, I got off the train in Vinnytsia, in the Vinnytsia where we had been living happily with my husband. I left the bundle in the hotel where the government was staying and headed to see my homestead. And then – such joy – I met my Yurko and my niece’s husband. They were staying in Vinnytsia for a bit longer to wait for the train to Kamianets. It was not so easy during that time since all the regular transportation had already been broken down. They both were so happy: Yurko was about to start his university studies, and my niece’s husband was glad to have escaped Kyiv safely, especially since he managed to bring the archive he cared for as if it were his own child. 

They encouraged me not to stay in the homestead in winter because it would not be possible to live there and daily go on duty to the Ministry. That meeting seemed to bring me back to life. I found a job in the Lozinski. They gave me a wonderful room and provided a full board. I resumed my work once again. 

Nonetheless, the situation with Ukraine still was not settled. There were negotiations with France through its representative in Odesa, but this representative treated our government with such disrespect and spoke so insultingly to our delegates that it soon became clear nothing would come of it. Unexpectedly, something entirely different emerged: Vynnychenko had a falling out with Petliura, left the Directorate, and went abroad. The Directorate itself was also in chaos. One member was perpetually drunk, another spent his time joyriding in cars, and a third was bustling about aimlessly. Overall, the selection of the Directorate members was unfortunate. As a result, as soon as Vynnychenko left, all the responsibility and duty fell on Petliura’s shoulders. I was mostly interacting with Shvets. He was in charge of the educational programs of the Directorate, and thanks to him, I was never rejected regarding funds for different children’s shelters under my care. Sometimes I would ask Kholodnyi for funds for the organization of various children’s shelters, and he would say, “There is no money, Sofia Fedorivna. We cannot even pay teachers.” He knew how to bug me. But when I went to Shvets and explained the situation, he would immediately allocate 5-6 thousand. He trusted me, knowing I would spend it all on helping poor children.

Two or three weeks had passed, and coming back to Kyiv was out of the question. The Bolsheviks had settled down there far more securely than the first time. Instead of coming back to Kyiv, we initiated another evacuation to Kamianets. At that time, I did not resist, and alongside the Ministry at the beginning of March 1919, I came to Kamianets. In Kamianets, all women who were in the Ministry were moved to The Art School near the University. I had a large room with a bed, a table, and a chair. As I was marching along the room, I was scared of my footsteps echoing. In the mornings and evenings, some guard was bringing boiling water for tea. In the window, I could see how Yurko was working with the students in the zoological room. After finishing duty, he would often run to me for a cup of tea. From the very dawn till midday, we were launching plans for extracurricular education and supporting the local “Prosvita”. We were also in good relations with Zemstvo’s Department of Extracurricular Education, where Kyrylenko and Savytskyi were working together with the violinist with long hair who was playing the same kind of sad nocturne concert after the concert. Viktor Prykhodko, the head of Zemstvo, treated me very well and showed me all of Zemstvo’s work, and the teachers’ library. In addition, he acquainted me with the Preschool Department, where Zhyvotko was in charge and started to organize kindergartens in the countryside. Zemstvo was working really well. 

The Ministry of Education took place at the University, where regular lectures were given. 

Spring was about to come, but the situation on the front did not become better. At the end of March, another evacuation was initiated, it was the hardest because we were going God knew where, sometimes not even the whole Ministry in one place. For us, it was Rivne. Such an ugly city! Full of Jews and lacking any cultural amenities for life. Here, we truly became blue. Easter approached, but no one had any money. The mood was utterly bleak. Instead of Easter bread, we broke our fasting with black bread (what black bread it was!) and tea. On Easter night, as the bells rang for the midnight service, I stepped out into the courtyard. The night was warm, the poplars fragrant, and the bells resounded. I stood there, letting my thoughts wander far and wide. What is happening now in Kyiv? What of my daughter in distant Chernihiv? How is Yurko, and did he manage to leave Kamianets before the Bolsheviks arrived? He was supposed to travel abroad with Dmytro Doroshenko. I stood there until dawn, grieving for everyone and knowing that all those who were here with me in Rivne were just as sorrowful as me. On Easter Sunday, Mr. Kholodnyi, in order to cheer us up, suggested a communal stroll. About ten of us gathered and walked into a beautiful forest outside the city, picking spring flowers. Kholodnyi told us their Ukrainian names and how they were used in folk traditions. We even indulged in a small luxury – drinking milk at a forester’s house instead of having lunch. We tried singing together as a choir, but it didn’t work out since an indescribable sadness weighed on everyone’s soul. We headed home, but then a heavy rainstorm caught us. We were soaked to the bone. 

The political situation was not improving. Railroad workers began visiting us, discussing the situation and which party to turn to for help. Initially, we leaned toward uniting with them, but one morning we learned that one of the railroad workers, Oskilko, had betrayed Petliura and acted against him. After that, we all distanced ourselves from such figures. Soon the necessity to leave Rivne became clear since the Bolsheviks were too close, and we could not count on Jewish people there. Third-class train carriages were assigned to us, and we all made our way to the station. There, we spent several weeks! It was crowded, leaving no space to settle properly, and outside, the weather was damp and muddy. In the same carriage as me was the Ivanenko family. Fortunately, they had their own portable stove, so we at least had access to hot food. The stove ran almost all day, cooking either for us or the neighbors. Food, in general, was scarce – whatever you could not get from the Jewish women traders simply was not available anywhere else.

Additionally, the toilet was bad. Often when you jumped out of the carriage to wash your face near the pump, crowds of people were already there standing. When it was your turn, you already would lose any desire to wash it. Next to our train carriages were the government’s carriages, brightly lit with electric lighting and equipped with their private kitchen. Meetings were constantly being held there, discussing what to do next. There seemed to be only one solution – to evacuate further – because the Bolsheviks had already taken Podillia and were encircling the government, which was sitting in the carriages. Not only had the government lost the capital but the whole territory of UPR, so there happened to be no place where the government could exercise its power other than in a few carriages of the Ukrainian railroads in a certain location.

Where would you send us? Certainly, to fraternal Galicia. We were going to Stanislav. 

The Galician government was based in Stanislav at that time. We were a bit perked up, and Galicians in our ministry were especially joyful. One morning we arrived at Stanislav, and then – such joy – I met my son Yurko. He had already completed his journey with Doroshenko and was looking for me. I was assigned a lovely room in the house of a cultured Polish man, which for me and Yurko felt like a luxury after the hardships of train life. 

The city was full of life despite the destruction left by the war. Both our government and the Galician government functioned there. The bustling activity brought both productivity and idleness, with rumors spreading about some officials indulging in activities such as drinking at restorations, throwing money around, and so on. After the deprivation in Kamianets, the availability of goods and affordable prices in Stanislav was shocking. I even bought two simple cups, which I still have as a memento. However, nothing good lasts for too long. I said to Kholodnyi that I would stay for a bit in Stanislav and would come in 2-3 days. At that time, you had better not have promised anything. The Ministry left, and Yurko said to me: “Do not leave, I will ride you to Kolomyia if you need it. And now I will try going to check the front lines to know if Kamianets is reachable. I will be back in two days”. I did what he said. He left for Borshiv, and on the second day, Poles already reached Stanislav. 

One day, members of the Socialist-Federalist Party (SFs) approached me, urging me to join them quickly. They had a train car at their disposal and could take me along. I hesitated, worrying about what might happen if Yurko returned and found me gone. Would we lose each other again? However, they managed to convince me. I packed my belongings and headed to the train station, where a train stood ready for departure. Searching for familiar faces, I entered a third-class carriage and, to my relief, found Cherkasenko there – he was also fleeing, hoping to return to Kamianets. I sat down next to him, and we waited for hours, but the train didn’t move.  By evening, the SF members transferred me to their carriage, which was much more comfortable, with tables and soft couches. Among the group were Mrs. Martos, another woman, Mr. Chepurkivsky, Matsievych, Ihnatovych with his son, the renowned bandura player Yemets, and me. The train crawled forward like a turtle; it took us over a week to reach Borshchiv! Fortunately, I found Yurko at one station – he immediately joined us, bringing along Levko Markevych. At some stations, we spent half a day wandering through nearby villages, visiting homes, and getting to know Galicia. Occasionally, there were rumors of danger from Poles, but they turned out to be baseless, and we continued calmly toward Borshchiv. There, we parted ways with the SFs and settled as a small group: Yurko, Levko, Yukhym Havrylenko, Yemets, and I. We managed to rent two small rooms from a Polish man, but they were bare, with nothing but straw. Our suitcases became makeshift tables and chairs. Despite the hardship, we had a great time. Yemets played and sang countless songs, both sorrowful and lively, and Levko told jokes and anecdotes, sometimes even breaking into a hopak dance. However, our landlord grew upset, complaining about the noise. He threatened to call the constable, but Yurko and Yukhym skillfully appeased him with a drink, quickly dissolving his anger. 

All we were thinking of was coming back to Kamianets. An offensive had already been planned, led by General Udovychenko and Colonel Oleksandr Shapoval. Yurko enlisted as a doctor, and in the evening, he departed with the Cossacks to the front in a medical vehicle. From the balcony that night, I could hear the rumble of cannons and see shells lighting up the sky. At the same time, my heart was pounding with both anxiety and happiness. Later, Yurko told me how Cossacks just eagerly prepared for battle, singing a prayer and the national anthem the evening before and advancing at dawn. Though they hesitated to destroy their own city with artillery fire, some shells did strike Kamianets. Interestingly, the residents of a house hit by one of these shells later showed me the spot as if it were sacred ground, proudly saying, “The Cossacks fired here!”. The Bolsheviks were fleeing because they saw such fervor from the Cossacks. That very day, our troops entered Kamianets. The locals showered them with flowers, thrilled to welcome their long-awaited liberators. The next day, Ohienko and I traveled from Borshchiv by car. Crossing the Zbruch at Skala and stepping into the familiar Ukrainian steppes filled me with joy – Oh God – I kissed the ground in gratitude. There were frequent car troubles, which forced us to walk the last leg of the journey. Ohienko, however, was less amused, grumbling that it was unbecoming for a university rector to walk into his city, but how happy I was. Yurko, traveling with the medical convoy, passed us and met us near the fortress. Such a happy night it was! Everyone was at home. Indeed: Yukhym, Levko, and Yurko were sleeping, God knows in which way, but they were all at home. Zhenia Vatych’s wonderful eyes sparkled with delight. Right after them, Petliura entered Kamianets. The enthusiasm was enormous. Small children from a kindergarten marched ahead of Petliura, singing “The glory and freedom of Ukraine has not yet perished” with their thin voices, and he lifted and kissed the child who handed him flowers. A few days later, the city and Zemstvo organized a ceremonial dinner in Petliura’s honor in the hall of the former Noble Assembly. Among the women present were only me and Miss Zalewska, representing the female students. I greeted Petliura on behalf of the women, saying that although women cannot take part in the defense of their homeland in the ranks of soldiers, they are wholeheartedly willing to work to alleviate the physical suffering of the heroes. To this, Petliura replied: “Not really, madam, women can do something greater. I will remind you of how you yourself, with your heartfelt speech, contributed to a political upheaval.” And he raised his glass for my health. He was referring to my speech at the National Union meeting in Kyiv, where the decision for the anti-Hetman uprising was made.

There were complaints from Cossacks that the citizens did not take care of the troops and that soldiers were hungry and neglected. In this case, there were citizens’ meetings where Illinskyi was in charge, and my Yurko presented the report. Initiated by Mrs. Prykhodkova, the committee of the help for the Cossacks was established by Zemstvo. First, a street fundraising was organized, mobilizing all the youth. It was a beautiful sunny day, and elegantly dressed girls actively sold badges. Although a midday rain shower sprinkled everyone, the raising was a success. In the evening, there was a concert. Altogether, these efforts rose over 40,000 net. At the same time, the idea of establishing a public hospital for the Cossacks was suggested. Yurko was assigned to find a suitable location. There were many abandoned Polish estates around Kamianets. One, in particular, caught our attention, located in the village of Panivtsi, 6-7 versts from Kamianets. On July 27, Yurko took me to Panivtsi on Zemstvo horses. The surrounding fields were golden with wheat, dotted with red poppies glowing like drops of blood, while tall, silvery thistles grew in the ditches, and green groves lined the horizon. The road wound up and down the hills; people were hoeing corn, returning in groups from the market, leading a pig tied by its hind leg or a heifer. Once, In Panivtsi stood the grand but now ruined estate of Mr. Starzyński. Back in the 16th century, there had been a parish and a school. The chapel near the estate was sealed. The verandas had collapsed, and the once-magnificent garden was overgrown, but the rooms were high and spacious, adorned with frescoes.

However, before starting to organize the hospital, we needed to finish organizing our committee because it was hanging in the air. Zemstvo did not have money to fund us. We did not have any authorization or authority from the community. We were advised to enlist in the Red Cross as an individual “Helping Cossacks Committee”. Ohienko back then was in charge of the Red Cross and viewed any activity outside the Red Cross with suspicion. Some were against such unification because the Red Cross was a fully governmental institution, while we wanted to work individually, based entirely on community efforts. Nonetheless, financial needs forced us to join the Red Cross, although with some autonomy. I was put in charge of the committee, which was divided into three sections. One section organized the hospital, a task entrusted entirely to Yurko and me; the second section handled medical help; and the third managed mobile kitchens for areas with concentrated troops – in Proskuriv, Kamianets, and Zhmerynka. After we decided on Panivtsi for the hospital location, we had to spend a significant amount of money to repair the estate building. However, the surroundings, the beautiful garden, the large number of rooms, and the estate’s outbuildings made it an excellent site for housing the sick. 

Together with Mr. Zhyvotko, we inspected the shelters in Kamianets and found out that the one for boys was in a really bad condition and the one for girls – vice versa – was in very caring hands. Zhyvotko started the organization of the Pestalozzi Society for Preschool Education and planned to establish a children’s club. He was such a sincere person, passionately driven to create something good. He even made me deliver an entire course of lectures on preschool education. 

Meanwhile, our ministry was back. They had been delayed somewhere in Kolomyia, where the Poles caught up with them. They returned tanned and in good spirits. Kholodnyi looked like a father to a large family. They had fled almost entirely on foot. In Kolomyia, the Ministry of the Navy stayed behind, uncertain how to hide their millions. Everyone praised Kolomyia. Shuhayevskyi, my assistant in the department, shared how warmly the local population treated them. 

While preparations were in Panivtsi, Mrs. Prykhodkova and I decided to deliver gifts to the Cossacks stationed nearest to Nova Ushytsia. I became completely engaged in this work and took a one-month leave from Kholodnyi. It seemed to me the most essential work at that time. In Ushytsia, we spent the night and then headed to the main headquarters of General Udovychenko. It was a large village, with officers and Cossacks quartered in every hut. In a massive barn, we had dinner with the officers, listening to their accounts of the dreadful conditions endured by the defenders of their homeland. We distributed bread, lard, soap, flour, tobacco, newspapers, and books. But God, how insignificant our gifts seemed in the face of the true misery our Cossacks were enduring! So many of them were ill and exhausted. On our way back to Kamianets, we inspected several hospitals in the villages around Nova Ushytsia. Everywhere, typhoid fever patients lay in dire conditions, and doctors lamented the lack of medicine. I must have contracted the disease during one of these inspections. After receiving the first transport of patients in Panivtsi, I fell ill with a relapsing fever and was bedridden for three weeks in there. A kind young military doctor, Doroshkevych, cared for us. The nurses were devoted to their duties but lacked medical skills. The biggest issue, however, was the management of supplies. It’s difficult to admit, but we couldn’t find an honest person who would oversee food without stealing it from the patients. Sadly, the hospital turned out to be extremely costly for the Red Cross. As the head administrator, I couldn’t establish the necessary order for the patient’s satisfaction. My illness only made things worse. The typhus relapsed twice, and I recovered very slowly. Honestly, if not for Yurko’s attentive care, I likely wouldn’t have survived. When my leave ended and the doctors permitted it, I got back to work at the Ministry. It was difficult to manage the hospital from Kamianets, so I handed over its administration entirely to the Red Cross.

Soon, devastating news struck us all. The Minister of War and head of the Medical Administration, Vyazlov, passed away. He had contracted epidemic typhus and succumbed in just one week. His funeral was conducted with great solemnity.