Welcome To

Just a few years aer returning to Moscow om Tashkent, Hava died violently, surrounded by uncaring strangers, in a way that is still a mystery. On May 12, 1947, Hava was at the train station, waiting at the crossing rails for a train to pass. It was a Monday, and Hava was loaded up with groceries om shopping. Somehow in the next minute, Hava was on the tracks and a train hit her. Was it an accident? Or was she, as Iosif sometimes thinks, pushed? There's no way to know. The results of the investigation are secret, and none of her valuables were recovered. Was she pushed for the groceries she was carrying? In Russia at that time, people were routinely killed for much less. When Hava didn't come home as expected, Shlomo was very worried. She was always very punctual. Eventually he called the police, who explained that there had been an accident. But the Volsuns were not satisfied. Ida's husband, David Gluzman, a military official himself, was a very persistent man not easily intimidated by authority. Bureaucrats the world over are rightly wary of such individuals. The family asked him to identify the body and see what he could learn about the circumstances of Hava's accident. But David was denied the right to view the body. Until much later, no one in the family viewed the body for identification. The police explained that no one could view Hava's body because it had been quarantined. They said that Hava's body had been contaminated by being exposed at the mortuary to another corpse who had died of an infectious disease. This explanation seemed so bizarre that David insisted on the right to identify Hava and see for himself. Aer many appeals, the police finally relented. David was issued a special protective gown and surgical mask and was escorted into the mortuary to identify the body. It was indeed Hava. At the funeral, the police insisted that the casket be closed as a public health measure. This was no difficulty for the Volsuns, as Jewish practice calls for closed caskets. The death certificate said the cause of death was an accident and the case was closed. Iosif was devastated by the news of his mother's death. An extra bitter blow was that he could not attend the funeral, as his request for leave was denied. At the time, he was stationed in Leninakan, Armenia, engaged in the district maneuvers being conducted by the Caucasus Military District. His commanding officer refused to consider the matter. To the Soviet government, the families of the soldiers were secondary to the Communist Party. Aer the military exercise was completed, Iosif was given 10 days of leave to visit his grieving family, but he arrived aer the funeral. Shlomo was a widower for 11 years, until his death in 1958 at the age of 80. His life during those years revolved around his children and grandchildren, and so we see glimpses of his final years in their stories later on. Shlomo had a very hard life, but he was a great fighter and a very devoted husband, father, and grandfather. His daughter Inna Volsun recalls that in his final years, Shlomo was in the habit of taking naps aer lunch. His last such nap took place at Rosa's apartment. Satisfied by a nice meal, knowing that all his children were well, Shlomo gently fell into a deep sleep om which he simply failed to wake. "That was it for my father," she says, sadly. "He did not wake up. It was a very peaceful death." Below: David Gluzman (Ida's husband) in Tomsk, Siberia, 1951. Bottom: Shlomo Volsun with Aleksander Moldavsky, a neighbor, and Elena Moldavsky in Moscow, 1954. Facing page: Hava Volsun in Moscow, 1941. Previous Page: Shlomo Volsun and Yefim London in Moscow, 1955.

• Cover