Autobiography

I was born in Făurei commune, Focșani district, on 1 October 1910. My parents, Vasile and Catrina, lived in Bizighești village, Făurei commune. Here they had 15 acres of garden and 0.50 acres of arable land, from which they got what they needed.

I was not yet 6 years old when the war of 1916 forced us to move. My father was called up and my mother, with only what she could load into a cart, had to take refuge far from the front line. There, in the commune of Poiana, in the district of Tecuci, we stayed until the end of the war.

In the spring of 1916, after returning from the refuge, we settled in the village of Străjescu, Focșani, the birthplace of my mother, since her family home in the village of Bizighești had been completely destroyed by the war.

I attended primary school in the village of Străjescu between 1919 and 1924, under the tutelage of Costache Verdeș. It was here that my father, returning from the front, was given 2 hectares of arable land. Together with my mother’s inheritance of about 1 hectare, my parents were able to face the hardships of life. My four sisters, two younger and two older than me, died while I was living in Bizighești. I was the only child left.

I finished primary school at the age of 14. In the autumn of 1924 my parents sent me to the Normal School in Focșani, which I attended from 1924 to 1930. In order to help my parents, I managed to get a pass mark in each class, which would entitle me to a scholarship. In June 1930 I took the diploma examination, which I passed with an average of 8.20, placing 11th out of 68 candidates. At the end of the examination I was awarded the Diploma of Ability number 200.

During the six years of school, with all the efforts to obtain scholarships each year, the expenses were still high. My parents had to sell some of their land to support me. When my father died in 1929, my mother had only 1.20 hectares.

The last year at school was particularly difficult in material terms. I began to realise that the world is not only made up of poor people. That some of them live without being aware of their poverty, that they have everything they need without any particular effort. That for some people life is an opportunity for pleasure, for luxury. They profit from the work of the poor, they do all kinds of business, they deal with capital, and they spread dishonesty and immorality everywhere. Many of them were members of the political parties that ran the country and were also on the boards of various companies, earning large incomes. The political parties tolerated all the sins of the time. In their quest for power, they divided the people into dozens of camps that tore each other apart.

I was 20 years old and could see all this. I felt it was my duty to join the political struggle. But I didn’t trust the existing political parties. I saw them as instruments for the destruction of the nation. The invitations of some politicians to join their parties did not convince me. I didn’t belong there. I felt that I had to fight against them, not with them. The Legionary Movement gave me this opportunity. And in the summer of 1930, after I had passed my exams, I joined this organisation. It was the only political party I knew at the time that promised nothing to its members and opposed venal and corrupt politics.

As a direct consequence of this membership, I was not allowed to teach in the autumn of 1930. The persecution continued in the years that followed. My colleagues were taking their final exams and I had not even been provisionally appointed. During these difficult years, in order to support myself and my mother, I sometimes had to work during the day as a labourer, building bridges on the Susa River, for which I was paid 34 lei a day.

During this time, the rebellion against injustice and oppression grew even more in my soul.

In 1931-1932 I completed my military training at the Military School for Reserve Infantry Officers No. 2 in Bacău.

In December 1933, after the dissolution of the Iron Guard, I was arrested with other comrades and imprisoned in Focșani prison, from where I was released on Christmas Eve. A week later, after the assassination of I. Gh. Duca, then Prime Minister, I was arrested again and imprisoned in the same prison. In February 1934, together with other comrades, I was transferred to the Jilava military prison. I was released from there on 18 March 1934.

On 1 September of the same year, on the basis of Order No. 139.311 of 1 September 1934 of the Ministry of Public Education, I was provisionally assigned to the primary school in the village of Rădoaia, Drăgușani commune, Adjud district. But I do not work here. I was sent to the commune Tichiriș, Putna County, where I worked from 1 September 1934 to 1 September 1935.

For the school year 1935-1936, I was assigned to the school in the village of Verdea, commune Răcoasa, Putna County. On the 1st of September 1936, I had to report to my post in the village of Rădoaia, as I was no longer authorised for the secondment I had requested. For the school year 1937-1938 I received a secondment to the school in the village of Paltin – Poduri, jud. Putna. On 1 September 1938 I was transferred to the village of Tichiriș, but I worked there for only two months and was suspended from teaching on 22 October 1938.

After an investigation by an Inspector General of the Ministry of Education, the accusations made against me, accusations of a political nature, were found to be unfounded, and I was reinstated in teaching, with the obligation to apply for a post in another locality. On 1 January 1939 I was appointed to the boys’ school in Popești – Râmnicu Sărat, where I worked until the end of the school year.

On 1 September 1939 I was transferred to the school in the village of Umbrărești – Tg. Bujor, Covurlui County.

Before leaving for the post, I married Elena I. Dumitrescu, daughter of Ion Dumitrescu, from Tichiriș commune. Our marriage produced the following children: Cornelia, born in Focșani on 28 May 1941, today a student in the 7th grade of the 10-year middle school in Vidra commune; Mihail, born in Tichiriș commune on 23 March 1943, died on 19 March 1944; Olga, born in Tichiriș commune on 1 June 1945, today a student in the 4th grade of the 4-year elementary school in Scafari village, Vidra commune.

I worked in Umbrărești for only 10 days. The international events of autumn 1939 required the Romanian state to take rapid measures to defend the homeland. Massive concentrations were carried out. On 11 September, I reported to the unit. The 10th Dorobanți Regiment, to which I belonged, moved from Focșani and took up a position around Darabani, Jud. Dorohoi. Here the reserve cadres of the regiment were trained and the terrain was organised. All this to prevent a possible attack by Soviet troops.

In April 1940, I was called to Focșani to train the young recruits of the 1940 contingent. In July I was assigned to a company whose mission was to carry out anti-tank works around the bridge over the Siret River, in the commune of Cosmești – Tecuci.

In September 1940, General Antonescu came to power in the country, together with the Legionary Movement. In December, I was appointed deputy school inspector in Vidra. I served in this capacity until 1 February 1941. It was during this period that the uprising of 21-23 January took place. It drove an unbridgeable wedge between General Antonescu and the legionary movement. Once again, as at the time of Armand Calinescu and the other parties, thousands of legionaries were thrown into prison. This time I was not arrested because I did not take part in the uprising. At that time, I was with the county school inspector Viorel Ciocârlan in the communes of Vidra, making special inspections of the teachers who had to take the final exams and the second degree.

On 1 February 1941 I was recalled to the teaching staff. I reported to my post in the village of Umbrărești, where I had been transferred in the autumn of 1939. In April I took the final examination in Galați, which I passed with an average of 8.30.

On 4 May 1941 I was called to concentration again. The war against the Soviet Union was about to begin. I reported to Focșani, where I was given the command of a platoon of reservists who had just been called up. After a short training period of two months, our unit embarked for the front on 21 June. I was part of the 35th Machine Gun Battalion of the Mountain Hunter Corps.

The first encounter of our unit with Soviet troops took place on 3 July 1941, at the demarcation line at the so-called “Black Creek”. The attack started at 14:00 in rainy weather and resulted in heavy losses for us. From the Black Stream we had no more battles with Soviet troops until we crossed the Dnieper through Koslovo Point on the night of 20 July. There the Soviet troops did not put up much resistance. We had particularly heavy fighting at the crossing of the Dnieper through the Berislav-Kakhovka point on 10-16 September. The heaviest losses of the 2nd Mixed Brigade, to which our battalion belonged, which amounted to about three thousand dead and wounded, were suffered during the fighting at Malaja-Belosjorka, across the Dnieper, which lasted more than two weeks. At the end of these battles, our unit spent some time rebuilding on the shores of the Sea of Azov, in the village of Obitocino, about 10 km away. North of the town of Nogaisk. We stayed there for three weeks.

On 6 November the 2nd Joint Brigade-Mountain received the order to return to the country. This was the end of the campaign in the Soviet Union in which I had participated in 1941. Throughout the campaign I commanded the 4th Platoon of the 2nd Machine Gun Company. I was decorated with the Order of the Crown of Romania for my military exploits.

When I arrived in the country, I managed to get detached from the Covurlui County to Putna county, to the school in the village of Bălan, Tichiriș commune. Here I worked until November 1942, when I was again called to the concentration camp. This time I was not sent to the front, but to a training centre in Tecuci, later moved to Cetatea Albă. In March 1943 I was called to Focșani for the training of the 1944 recruits, which lasted until the summer. After a short leave of several weeks, I was sent to Făgăraș, to another training centre for the improvement and knowledge of heavy infantry weapons. On my return, I was assigned to the 210th Heavy Weapons Company, administratively attached to the 10th Dorobanți Regiment and operationally at the disposal of the General Staff. In November 1943 I was deconcentrated. I reported to the Bălan School, where I served until 19 March 1944.

By that time the Soviet troops had crossed the Prut. There were massive concentrations again. I received another call-up order. On 25 March 1944 I was promoted to lieutenant. In the 210th company I was given the position of a battery commander. On the morning of 9 April, our company marched to the front towards Pascani. We arrived on 16 April. We took up a defensive position in the village of Cosmești, 10 km away. South of Pașcani. Here we set up the emplacements for the brands and the shelters for ammunition and men. In front of us, 2 km away, were the two rows of pillboxes manned by our infantrymen. The Soviet positions were 2-3 km ahead of our lines. Apart from the usual artillery duels, there was no particular action in this sector during the summer. In the second half of July our company was ordered to move to the left sector, 25 km away. West of Cosmești. We stopped at the village of Soci. We entered under the direct command of the 4th Heavy Artillery Regiment. The position we have to organise is in the forest, 3 km away. North of the village of Soci. Here the events of 23 August 1944 would catch up with us.

On the afternoon of the 19th, Soviet troops, supported by massive artillery, launched an attack on our positions. After four days of fierce fighting, our lines were broken at every point. We were ordered to break off the fighting and withdraw to new positions. But these retreats were never possible, as the retreat soon turned into a disorganised and ultimately disastrous surrender. This was the end of my second campaign in Moldavia, which was quiet during its course, but became so eventful in the last few days

On my return home, after only two weeks, I was ordered to report to the unit. In Focșani, the settled part of our regiment was organised. The people who had been scattered all over the country by the storm of events began to gather again.

On 29 October 1944 I was summoned by urgent order to the headquarters of the VI Division, located in Potcoava-Olt. There I received a detachment of 62 men with whom I was to report to the front. On 16 November 1944 I landed at Câmpia Turzii. The front was in Hungary, near the Czechoslovak border. From Câmpia Turzii it was no longer possible to take the train because all the bridges had been blown up by the retreating enemy. We had to make a long march of 500-600 km on foot.

We left Câmpia Turzii on 9 November and reached the front on 29 November 1944, in the sector of the 10th Dorobanți Regiment. When we arrived, the regiment had occupied the village of Megyozu. Fierce fighting ensued and our unit suffered casualties. There was a great need for men to fill the gaps. The soldiers of the detachment I came with were immediately assigned to companies. I was put in command of Company 1 because the previous commander, Captain Liță, had fallen ill. The front line was about 1 km away. North of the village. In the evening, led by the liaison officer, I entered the front line, in the defensive device, and took command of the company. The commander of the 1st Battalion was Captain Botescu. The commander of the 10th Dorobanți Regiment was Colonel Totu Elefterie.

Hard days followed. Attacks were chained, we moved from one position to another day and night, and our rest was reduced to a few minutes in a pit full of mud or snow.

Moving in winter is especially hard. Within a week of our arrival at the front, entering Czechoslovakian territory, the 1st Company attracted the attention of the divisional command by occupying two neighbouring villages, Hym and Pereny. As a result of this action, the regiment was called up by divisional and corps orders. The ranks and soldiers of the 1st Company who distinguished themselves in battle were awarded the “Military Virtue” and its commander the “Star of Romania”.

The next step was mountain fighting, a novelty for our soldiers, who were more used to fighting in open terrain. Difficult and particularly difficult missions were entrusted to the 1st Company. Until I was taken prisoner, it remained the lynchpin of the resistance, the unit of effort of the 10th Dorobanți Regiment.

But its most important and daring action was the occupation of Hill 1302 in the Tatra Mountains (an episode also mentioned in the memoirs “Veterans on the Path of Honour and Sacrifice”) and the rescue from encirclement of a partisan detachment commanded by the Russian captain Galicenco. On the 18th of February 1945, when I was on my way with the company to take my place in the assault vehicle, I met the division commander, General Marinescu Gh., accompanied by several staff officers. They were coming from a reconnaissance mission. The general stopped me and said: “I expect a lot from you today!… 

At the time, I didn’t understand what he was talking about. The regimental commander then explained to me that he was referring to taking Hill 1302, the dominant point of the whole sector, from the enemy. But it was not possible to take the ridge that day. By evening we had barely managed to take our place in the unit. The moon was bright as day. It was freezing and the snow crunched under our feet. The position we were to occupy was difficult and had a great disadvantage for both defence and attack: it was on the crest of a mountain, perpendicular to the front line. We had no time to set up before we came under fire from the right and left. We couldn’t stay in this position. We either had to withdraw or find another solution. In front of us and a little to the right opened up a valley without forest. Beyond it rose 1151. On the eastern slope of this ridge, the terrain was well defended. We sent a patrol in that direction. The patrol returned and reported to me that they had encountered no enemy. On my own initiative and in perfect order, I took my company, crossed the valley and climbed the slope of 1151. We were only 40-50 metres from its trigger point when we were suddenly greeted by live fire from several automatic weapons. Being in a blind spot, we had no casualties. Our men also opened fire. Slowly, slowly we pushed higher and higher. The enemy no longer acted. We noticed that they were forward elements, who withdrew after a few exchanges of fire. At 11 o’clock at night we reported to the battalion that 1st Company had taken Hill 1151. The battalion commander was initially annoyed that we had acted without orders. However, when we explained that this hill, which was vital to the capture of 1302 Ridge, could not be occupied in daylight and that we would have suffered heavy casualties if we had attempted to do so, the commander relented. The position lent itself well to defence. We set up on it and that very night built the dugouts and positions for the automatic weapons. In the morning I had a better idea of how important and, above all, how necessary our action during the night had been. The view was magnificent. Behind us was the valley through which we had passed, and in front of us, like a pointed cap, rose the wooded 1302, so coveted by the Romanian and Soviet command in this sector. The attack and the occupation of this dominant height could only be made from the 1151 height. It was now clear that the battle in the mountains was fought only to win the heights, just as the battle in the lowlands was fought to win the villages. There was only one flaw in our position: we had no contact with our own people, neither on the right nor on the left. We felt isolated, which made us very careful not to be surprised by the enemy. An attack could come from any direction. And this is another peculiarity of fighting in the mountains: the front line is not always continuous. Sometimes there are breaks, gaps, due to the uneven terrain. We had been in contact with the regiment since the morning and had received hot food and other special rations for all the soldiers and officers as a reward for our successful action during the night. Morale was good. This was the state of affairs when, at about 9.30 or 10am, we were violently attacked. The attack came from 1302. Our soldiers, well protected in their dugouts, did not allow the enemy to approach. The fire from automatic weapons poured over our heads like a torrent that seemed never to end. The forest was boiling, carrying the echoes of the machine-gun fire far and wide. We were lucky that the artillery didn’t rain down on us. The regimental commander, Colonel Totu, worried about the violence of the shelling, kept asking me on the phone:

– What’s the situation, how are you?

– The enemy is attacking strongly, but they can’t dislodge us, even if they had the strength of a battalion.

After an hour and a half everything calmed down. The sun was shining and spreading warmth, but it still couldn’t melt the snow, which was almost two metres high at this altitude. The smell of gunpowder lingered in the air all day. The balance of the battle: the enemy’s attack had failed; with our morale even higher, we were firmly in control of the position we had conquered.

The actions of 1151 made the operations to occupy Hill 1302 much easier. The fierce resistance of Captain Galicenco’s detachment also forced the enemy to give way and open the way to 1302.

On the morning of 20 February 1945, at about 9-9.30, we left 1151 and climbed to 1302 with the whole company. Arriving at the trig point, we hastily took all security measures, took up positions around the 4 machine guns and 12 MGs, and then reported to the regiment that the hill was occupied by 1st Company. Never before had the regimental commander questioned the sincerity of my reports. But now he no longer believed them. He hurriedly sent the intelligence officer, Lieutenant Tulai, to the scene, and when he reached us, he reported by telephone:

– Colonel, I’m speaking from 1302.

Back at the regiment, the news was immediately passed on to the division and then to the Soviet command. The regimental commander was overjoyed. While the neighbouring units could not make a single step forward, the 10th Cuirassiers Regiment recorded new victories every day. Congratulations, praise and decorations followed. I was nominated for the Order of Michael the Brave. The regiment’s report on this nomination read in part: “There was no more important action of the regiment in which the reserve lieutenant Caragață Costache did not take part. He is the soul of the 1st Battalion and the pride of the 10th Dorobanți Regiment. If he had been a career officer, he would undoubtedly have reached the top of the great commands”.

But the occupation of this important hill meant that its defence had to be organised. The first step was to establish contact with the enemy. We needed to know how far they were from us and, above all, what their position was. To the west of 1302 there were two more coordinates, 500-600 metres apart: 1240 and 1226.

I received orders to send a reconnaissance patrol in that direction. Returning about two hours later, the patrol brought back a Hungarian prisoner with the rank of sergeant. He told me that he was part of a partisan detachment in a very difficult situation. The detachment was commanded by a Russian captain, Galicenco. They were surrounded by Hungarian and German units. They had been without food for days and their ammunition was running out. He urged me to make arrangements as soon as possible to establish our links with the detachment.

I reported the situation to the regiment and was ordered to send another reinforced patrol, commanded by a non-commissioned officer, to go with the Hungarian sergeant to where the partisans were. On leaving, I told the sergeant to be very careful not to fall into a trap. I warned the Hungarian that he would be shot at the first attempt to escape or to mislead the patrol. According to the prisoner’s instructions, the patrol was to return, at worst, four hours after leaving. Their mission was to contact Captain Galicenco and ask him to come to our position if possible.

It’s 6pm. The phone rang. The regiment asked me if the patrol had returned. I replied that we were ready. The minutes ticked by. It’s 19:00… 20, 21,… nothing! The telephone terrorised me. The regimental commander was getting nervous. He’d lost hope that the patrol would return. I had lost hope too. I was sorry I’d given away the best sergeant and the best men. The Hungarian must have lured them into a trap.

At about 10 p.m., after eight hours of waiting, we heard the sentry’s cry in the direction the patrol had gone: “Wait!… In a few minutes, all around us, near the telephone and the dim fire flickering in a hollow, a dozen partisans, men and women in military uniforms, automatic pistols hanging from their necks. The commander of the patrol, Corporal Stoica, didn’t know what to tell us first. He had received some gifts from some partisans and these objects made him very happy. I informed the regiment of the patrol’s arrival. We were immediately put through to the 6th Division. Major Perian, the Soviet liaison officer of the 6th Division, spoke to Captain Galicenco. He tells him about the circumstances that led to the contact and about the difficult situation the detachment is in. Major Perian told him to hold out for at least 4-5 days.

But on the morning of 24 February, under the pressure of enemy attacks, the detachment withdrew. All the guerrillas passed through the sector of the 1st company and thanked our soldiers for having contacted them and saved them from certain death. For our regiment, the contact with the partisan detachment was the most important of all the actions it had carried out so far.

Both battalions of the 10th Dorobanți Regiment were now in position around Hill 1302. 1st Company remained in its original position. In front of the 1st Company, about 200 metres away, was the 2nd Company, commanded by Second Lieutenant Chioveanu. The 2nd Battalion, commanded by Captain Ștefănescu, occupied the northern slope of the hill.

In the afternoon of 25 February, the enemy, who had forced the position of Captain Galicenco’s detachment, attacked our lines. But the attack failed. Everything was done to prevent any further attempts.

The night of 25-26 February 1945 passed quietly. It seemed that the enemy would not attempt another attack. In the morning of the 26th February a violent blizzard broke out. The blizzard, together with the fog that had also descended, made visibility extremely poor. You couldn’t see ten metres away. The roar of the storm and the groaning of the trees was like the sound of death. In such weather the enemy attacked our positions again. The 2nd Company was overrun. Their men were rushing towards us, spreading panic. No one could stop them. Soldiers flee, officers flee, leaving weapons and equipment in position. 1st Company stayed put. They’re holding. But the enemy was very close. We could also hear German orders. The situation was very critical. The soldiers, who can’t see me and can’t see them, are also running away. The telephone lines were cut. Our resistance group, which consisted of only 14-15 men, soldiers and Rangers, who were still around me, fell prisoners. Within minutes, Hill 1302 was filled with enemy soldiers rushing down after the escapees. The battle lasted less than half an hour. In that time, an entire regiment had been overrun by an enemy with the strength of only two companies.

The first prisoners of the day were the 15 men of 1st Company. By the evening, another ninety soldiers and seven officers, including the commander of the 1st Battalion, Captain Botescu, had caught up with us. The 26th February 1945 was the worst day in the life of our regiment.

My capture marked the end of the third campaign, the Western Campaign, in which I had participated from November 1944 until the day of the ordeal of the 10th Dorobanți Regiment. Unlike the other two campaigns, the last one was unimaginably hard.

As a prisoner, I was moved from camp to camp as the front moved inland into Germany. I passed through seven camps in Czechoslovakia (I only remember Mezdi-Bros and Banska-Bistricza) and three in Germany: Zwickau, Oschatz and Mulberg. The last was a central camp with tens of thousands of prisoners of all nationalities. It was called “Stalag 4 B” and was about 60-70 km. East of Berlin. I had my prisoner number plate with me, but it was confiscated along with many other important documents during later searches of my home.

On the way to the town of Zwickau I saw the big centres of Dresden and Leipzig. But they were nothing but heaps of ruins. In Dresden, in particular, there were not a single habitable house left. Two thousand British planes had done this in two hours. One hundred and eighty thousand souls had perished in the bombing. The population on all sides was terrified.

The sirens did not stop wailing day and night. The Anglo-American bombers never operated with fewer than five hundred planes. They had full command of the German skies.

On 23 April 1945, at 9am, the heavy gates of the Mulberg camp were opened by the first Soviet motorcyclists to arrive. There was no fighting around the camp as German troops had retreated during the night, leaving the camp intact. Tens of thousands of prisoners were now streaming towards freedom, towards life.

After two weeks on the road, during which we walked more than 500 km, we were stopped in the town of Bunzlau, where we were taken into the custody of the Soviet army. Here we enjoyed complete freedom for three months. Both our food and our accommodation were excellent.

On 31 July 1945 we received from the Soviet command in Bunzlau cold rations for ten days, as well as repatriation forms for leaving Germany. I had under my command a group of one hundred and twenty men, whom I had to present to the Stage Command in Arad in order to obtain discharge papers.

On 10 August I entered the country through the Curtici border crossing. At the Focșani Territorial Circle I clarified my military situation and asked to be removed from the list of missing persons and reinstated in the army reserve.

In September I went to Bucharest to ask the Ministry of Education to transfer me from Covurlui County to Putna County, where I had family. I was transferred to the one-room primary school in Scafari village, Vidra commune, Putna county, where I worked until 18 July 1952, with a two-year break.

When the only grammar school in Vidra was established, I was also given extra classes and taught the following subjects: music and science in the first year, then music and mathematics in the second year. In the third year I taught music, drawing and physics.

As part of our extra-curricular activities, we travelled with the pupils to the communities of Vidra and gave evening performances with selected content.

In 1948, when the individual gymnasiums were abolished, I had to work only at the school in Scafari. In 1949, I organised the choir of the Vidra Cultural Centre, with which I won the county competition in Focșani in July. My activity at the Vidra Cultural Centre continued in the following years until the night of 18 July 1952.

Since the competitions of the artistic teams were held every year only in the summer, I was never able to take a holiday between 1945 and 1952. The choir rehearsed regularly two or three times a week throughout the summer.

On the night of 18 July 1952, my wife and I were at the youth hostel. After four hours of tense work, when I left the rehearsal hall to go home, I was stopped and taken to the local militia station, where I was informed that I was under arrest. The next day I was taken out of the village, separating me from my parents for almost two years.

I was arrested without trial, on the basis of a “special decision” by the Ministry of the Internal Affairs. I had done no harm to the Romanian state. I had been involved in legionary politics at the age of 20.

When I was arrested, my file with all my personal documents was confiscated, including my original teaching certificate. I intervened on several occasions to have my file, which consisted of about 100 pages, returned to me, but so far I have not received a reply.

As a “political prisoner” I passed through several prisons, camps and labour colonies. I will list them all in order of date: on 19 July 1952, I was sent to the Focșani penitentiary, under the cell regime. From there, on 26 July, I was taken to Bârlad, to the Securitate Department, where I was held for one day. On 27 July I was detained in the Ghencea camp in Bucharest. On 13 August I was taken to the Canal. The first labour camp I went to was Gales. Here, for ninety days, I worked only on unloading earth at the “A.C. Unloading” site. Cordon 3″.

On 16 November 1952 I was taken to the Peninsula labour colony in the commune of Valea Neagră, Medgidia district, Constanța region. Here I worked for three hundred days without interruption, only in stone.

I went through all the building sites in turn: “Grădina” (45 days), “Concasoare mari” (40 days), “Concasoare mici” (30 days), “Mustața” (30 days), “Postul 3” (20 days), “Stația Siutghiol” (25 days), “Transbordări 1” (35 days), “C.F.” (20 days), “Transbordări 2” (25 days) and “Dams and Dredgers” (30 days).

On 31 August 1953 I was taken from the “Peninsula” labour colony and sent to Borzesti, Tg. Ocna district, Bacau region. In Borzești I worked for 150 days without a break, only digging earth. A 7 km canal was being built to bring water from the Trotuș River to the power station that was being built. Our site was called “Point 6 Aducțiuni”.

On 1 February 1954, I was taken out of the work regime and all legionnaires were put under a penal regime. On 16 March I was transferred from the Borzești camp to the Onești camp in the same district. There was a sorting committee there.

On 26 April 1954, at 8 a.m., I was released from the camp with release card No. 8874 of the 0665 Onești formation.

Only two years had passed and it was as if I had come from another world. At the station, when I tried to talk to a civilian, I had a heart attack in the first moments. I had forgotten that I was free. It was the first civilian I had spoken to after two years in prison. The restriction not to talk to civilians was still in my mind.

How precious freedom is! A man should only want two things: to be healthy and to enjoy his health in freedom.

On 1 September 1954, following a memorandum I had submitted, the Vrancea district education office was kind enough to employ me in the same position as before.

I am currently working at the primary school, with one post, in the village Scafari, Vrancea County.

1 May 1955

(Costache Caragață – Notebooks of Sadness. The notes of a teacher in handcuffs for free children, edited by Gheorghe Nadoleanu, 2010, pp. 197-219)

Autobiography of the teacher Costache Caragață, Elementary school for 4 years, Vidra commune, Scafari village, written on May 1st 1955 (after the first period of detention).