'I NEVER THOUGHT THIS WOULD HAPPEN'
12:00 - 03 May 2003
This week the Evening Post took Nottingham pensioner Pawlo Korol to Ukraine to meet the family he has not seen for six decades. The ex-German POW thought they had been murdered by the Nazis. Post reporter STEVEN FLETCHER accompanied him on the emotional reunion. Pictures by STEVE FOOTITT
As the two white Ladas turn off the main road, Pawlo Korol tenses up. For the 76-year-old, a rear seat passenger in the first car, the next few minutes are to be the realisation of a lifetime's dream. The cars bounce across the fields, throwing large dust trails in the air as they navigate the bumpy, barren fields so common in this corner of Western Ukraine.
And minutes later, there she is: Pawlo's little sister Maria - who he has waited 62 long years to see.
The last time he saw her, Maria was an excitable three-year-old. The woman who greets him is a stooping, frail-looking widow who seems older than her 65 years.
As the cars pull up, and Maria's flower-wielding family peer out excitedly from the ramshackle farmhouse they call home, Pawlo notices the Babka next to a bowl of salt. For Ukrainians, the Babka - a large, extravagant loaf of bread - and salt represent a traditional welcome. And why not? This Prodigal Son was returning home.
Pawlo looks every bit the dignified, retired English gentleman as he gets out of the car. Then he strides towards Maria, throwing his arms around his little sister and kissing her, as Maria begins sobbing hysterically.
Pawlo, his voice raised, instinctively starts talking in broken Ukrainian, as the rest of his family start joining in the embraces with their English visitors.
And, although the hosts and the Pawlo's Nottingham family cannot understand each other, it matters little. The joy, the relief, the disbelief, were obvious, whichever language they were spoken in.
Later, Pawlo called the reunion "my very own miracle". He had thought that his memories of his family - and Ukraine - would remain just that, never daring to think he might see Maria or his old friends once again.
"This is wonderful, so wonderful," said the tearful great-grandfather as he was led inside for a welcome-home feast.
"I never thought this would happen. I never thought I would see her. Oh my God."
Maria is just as shocked. "We thought you had gone. It has been so long. Come inside," she says.
Pawlo knows that his story is remarkable - that at an age when most pensioners are enjoying retirement with their families, he is travelling across Europe to find his.
He was just 14 when he was snatched from his home village of Lozy by Nazi soldiers and shipped to Hamburg to work in slave labour camps in 1941. After the war, the young Pawlo kept trying to get in touch with his parents, sister Maria and older brother Petro. But, as each letter went unanswered, Pawlo presumed the worst, and eventually ended up in Britain, where he began to make a life for himself.
It was only because of the perseverance of his son-in-law Norman Watkins that this week's reunion was even possible.
Norman, who lives in Perth, Australia, found an American firm - run by a Ukrainian woman - which specialised in finding estranged relatives.
Sure enough, they located Maria and her family. Planning for the trip to his home village began immediately.
But it wasn't all plain sailing.
Pawlo had never applied for full British citizenship after he arrived in Britain in 1947, and faced a wait of at least a year for a passport. That was last September, and Pawlo - an asthmatic - feared his dream of seeing Maria would never come true.
However, Nottingham North MP Graham Allen and East Midlands Euro-MP Phillip Whitehead helped speed up his passport application - and the Evening Post paid for Pawlo and his wife Peggy to fly to Ukraine for this week's reunion.
The Post joined Pawlo on the gruelling 24-hour journey from his home in Beckhampton Road, Bestwood Park, to Ternopil, the small city which is an eight-hour train ride west of the Ukrainian capital Kiev.
Also on the trip with Pawlo and Peggy were their daughter Manya Stone, 50, and grandson Craig Stone, 31.
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BELLS RING OUT FOR PAWLO'S HOMECOMING
12:00 - 05 May 2003
Ex-german POW Pawlo Korol has made an emotional return to Ukraine from his Nottingham home - to visit the family he thought had been wiped out by the Nazis. In the second of our special reports, Evening Post reporter STEVEN FLETCHER and photographer STEVE FOOTITT took Pawlo to the remote village where he grew up
The 76-year-old walked excitedly up the 40 steps to the top of the spire. Then he was handed the ropes and pulled them with all his strength. The church bells rang out over Lozy. Pawlo Korol was back home. In truth, he never wanted to leave. But the Nazis had other ideas, and took the 14-year-old boy away to work in a Hamburg slave labour camp.That was in 1941, and now he was making an emotional return alongside Maria, the younger sister he had always thought was dead.The day before his visit to Lozy, Pawlo was reunited with Maria, who he had not seen for 62 years, and her family. Today promised more memories, both good and bad.Pawlo, of Beckhampton Road, Bestwood Park, told Maria of his wish to see their parents' grave. When the Nazis took him, he was not even given time to say goodbye. That was what today was for.And so Maria's family had taken three taxis from their smallholding into Lozy, and the house of their friends Valia and Vladimir Klumyk, who now lived on the site of Pawlo"s demolished childhood home."Because it was so long ago, I only have very faint memories," Pawlo told the Post, before going into the house."I have come here to say goodbye to my parents and see old friends and old haunts. Another emotional day..."Within minutes of arriving in Lozy Pawlo took the long walk, up a steep dirt track, to the village cemetery.But word of his return had spread around the town since he first made contact with Maria eight months ago.And as he strode towards the cemetery, the pensioner was stopped a number of times by older members of the community. They embraced, talking in fast, excited Ukrainian, and the tears started to flow.Pawlo was honest enough to admit he didn't remember everyone, unsurprising considering he left Lozy more than six decades ago. But he was grateful for every opportunity to talk with old friends, knowing many of his former playmates would no longer be alive."Many of them I played with as children. But people change and memories fade, so I don't remember them all. But they remember me and my brother Petro, and they are happy to see me again. They all thought I must have been killed after I was taken to Germany."Finally the Korol entourage arrived at the cemetery, beautifully located at the bottom of a small valley. The graves were well-tended, many of them decorated with fresh flowers.And then there was silence as we arrived at Pawlo"s parents' shared, raised grave, which has no headstone, but a plain blue wooden cross.He bowed his head, made the sign of the cross and wept, quietly praying."God bless you, mum and dad. I might see you again," he said loudly, his voice trembling.And then, poignantly, his frail sister leant over, gently placing a daffodil on the soil. This was repeated by Manya, Pawlo's 50-year-old daughter from Nottingham. The family can give no precise dates for when Manya's grandparents died. The question might have been lost in translation, or might be because dates matter little in this corner of the world. Each possibility is equally likely."Can you imagine not knowing what has happened to your parents for so long? she asked.And Maria explained that her visits to the cemetery were rare."We don't live in the village any more. We can't get back here and we cannot afford taxis," said the tearful 65-year-old.On the way back Pawlo met Mikola Salajda, to whom he affectionately referred as the 'Pigeon Man'."I grew up with Mikola. We were childhood friends," explained Pawlo."My best memory of him is that he gave me three of his pigeons, which he had at his home. I had been pestering my father to let me have some, and he eventually agreed that we could keep them in the shed."I thought that was great ... but every time I let them out they used to fly straight to Mikola's house. It was very annoying. But then when they had eggs, I took them away to my house and bred them from there."There was a measured, authoratative tone in Mikola's voice, as befits a man who is one of Lozy"s success stories - attending medical school and becoming a surgeon in Ternopil, the nearby city.He told Pawlo of his delight at seeing him again - and his sadness of how they were parted all those years ago."We didn't know what had happened to you. We didn't know if you were dead or alive. This is a wonderful day for us and the village," he said.Mikola then took Pawlo to the village church, a Ukrainian Orthodox Church building which a young Pawlo had attended every week with his parents.Inside, it was a beautiful, ornate sight, which momentarily overwhelmed Pawlo. Pictures showing the life of Jesus, alongside other religious paintings, were complemented by an array of pretty, bright flowers.The timing of Pawlo's visit was significant - the villagers were celebrating Easter, which fell one week after the Christian celebration, as they follow the old Gregorian calendar.The locals explained what had happened to the church since Pawlo was last inside."The Russians stripped the church bare and took everything," said Pawlo. "It is disgusting what they did. It took the people of the village years to restore it but now it looks absolutely magnificent."And then he went upstairs, for the rare honour of ringing the church bells - so everyone knew he was back.Once he had carried out the deafening task, Pawlo looked out of the shutters, where he had a bird's eye view of Lozy.And, as the sun shone brightly for the first time since we landed in Ukraine, Lozy did look a magnificent sight, so different from the new family home Pawlo visited the previous day.Chickens and cattle wandered aimlessly around the farms, a horse-drawn cart bumped along the uneven road, passing children gathered in little gangs. And dominating this serene, peaceful landscape is Lozy's large lake - one of Pawlo's fondest childhood memories."I spent so much time at that lake when I was a kid," he said. "I have been desperate to see it again with my family and now here I am. Look around you. The road is new, some of the houses have been rebuilt, but most of Lozy is just as I remember it. This is a good, peaceful town with good people. This is home."As the hours passed and Pawlo renewed long-forgotten acquaintances, villagers kept appearing from the distance to see him.Eventually, emotional and weary, he returned to Vladimir and Valia's brick home for another celebration meal - the second in a series of feasts to mark his return.The children played in the yard outside alongside the dogs, chickens and turkeys.Again, tears regularly interrupted the laughter - none more so than when Pawlo's sister Maria, and his old neighbour Palaska, suddenly broke out into a series of traditional, Ukrainian folk songs.Maria's strong, passionate voice belied her frail appearance, and the other guests round the table stopped eating and drinking to listen. Maria's voice dominated the small room for 15 minutes. None of us knew what she was singing, but the emotion in her voice made it obvious this was a lament for those lost years.And then Vladimir"s two bubbly daughters Jalia, 12, and 11-year-old Ira entertained the room, Jalia playing the bandora - similar to the traditional Ukrainian balalaike - while Ira joined in on the guitar, both girls playing for this old, foreign man they had never seen before. As their audience applauded, it was too much for Pawlo and Manya, who started welling up as the small scale concert continued."These girls are wonderful. This has made the whole trip worth it, to see this," said Manya.Her son Craig Stone, 31, said the trip had marked a watershed for Pawlo's family."I will certainly be coming back. We have found family we never knew, and I want to bring my wife and children here," he said.But - and thankfully for the English visitors - not all the day's events were strictly Ukrainian. Valia produced a tray filled with cups -surely not more vodka. But there, in all their glory, lay six steaming cups of tea, with Lipton's tea bag labels peering over the side. Yet another kind thought from hosts for their guests."They just keep surprising us with what they are doing for us," said Pawlo. "They would give you the shirt off their back. I don"t know how they live here at times. The winters must be unbearable. But they have so much energy, so much enthusiasm."It had been a long day for the pensioner - the second on his emotional return to visit Ukraine. The first heralded a reunion with Maria, who he had last seen as a toddler. This second day had been different - but just as difficult."It has been an exhausting time," he told the Post, as we wandered through Lozy."But I never thought it would happen. I worked hard after the war, when I arrived in England with no money and no knowledge of English. And I am proud of what I have achieved and the family I now have. But I needed to do this; I needed to come back to find my family and see the village, and the life I left behind."And the exertions of the past few days had whetted his appetite for future return visits to his native country. And again it will be his family and old pals who he will be visiting, rather than the beautiful, modern city that Kiev has become."I will keep coming back here for as long as I can. They are my family, and I want to see them. I have invited them to England but I don't know if they will come. But now I have found them again, I won't be letting go."Since the first stories appeared in the Evening Post, people have come up in the street and wished me luck. Well, now I am here, and I want to thank the Post and everyone in Nottingham for their kindness. This has been the best time of my life."And with that we parted, as the pensioner set off for another day in Lozy, another day of memories and reunions. The kind of day Pawlo Korol had spent 62 years waiting for.<b >Brother's memorial </b > Pawlo's joy at finding his sister was tempered by the news that his older brother, Petro, died during the Second World War.He was told the devastating - but not unexpected - news last year, but was keen to speak to villagers to find out what had happened to Petro, four years his senior.Petro was one of seven men from the village rounded up by the invading Germans and shot, accused of being communist because they dressed smartly and worked in offices during the day."The people I have spoken to said that was all Petro and his friends did wrong," said Pawlo."Nobody can even remember exactly when it happened, but that doesn't matter. He was a clever man, and travelled out of Lozy to work. That killed him in the end."Pawlo paid his respects to Petro during his first day in Lozy last week, visiting a monument inscribed with his sibling's name - alongside those two dozen or so others from the village who perished between 1941-45.Pawlo was originally told his name was on the memorial, but was relieved to see it wasn"t."It feels odd coming here but I was glad everyone was talking about Petro. He was my brother and I looked up to him. It's very upsetting to hear what happened, but I always suspected as much. What makes it even worse, is that I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to him or my parents on the day I was taken. Now they are gone."
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