Uncle Ioan fought in WWII -- he started training in 1938 and was released in 1944 once his weight reached 40 kg due to dizenteria. He was sent to the hospital in Savarsin to recover. He died many years later of cancer of the intestine, which he connected to the privations suffered in the war. While walking in a park in Savarsin, he bumped into King Mihai who was bent over his dog. After a moment of recogniton, Ioan panicked, saluted, and humbly appologized. The king was unconcerned: "nu-i nimic, nu-i nimic"("it's nothing, it's nothing") was all he said. Uncle Ioan remembered this meeting fondly. The king came accross as a kind young man who was not afraid to go out without personal guard. A month or two later King Mihai was tricked into announcing peace via the radio before an armistice was signed, which doomed all forms of negociation and left the military men and the rest of the country at the mercy of our allies, the Russians, who had little mercy to spare. The war had been for nought, but then it almost always is so. The outcome of WWII was particularly brutal for Romania. It not only lost its young men, its buildings and infrastructure, but also lost large parts of its territory. The rest was occupied by Russian army until the communist regime was installed. It was not alone. All of Eastern Europe was plunged into a form of hell labeled communism that it has yet to fully recover from. Ioan did not choose to fight. Once martial law was signed, young men like Ioan never had a choice to begin with.
Ioan had always succeeded against all odds or so the neighbors said. His father was an alcoholic and wasted all money he earned. He had a brother and a sister -- each handicaped. The boy was born without fingers at one of his hands, which turned out to be a blessing in disguise because he did not have to go to war. The girl developed a weak heart after a childhood illness, and was never able to make a lot of effort. She later married a person shorter than normal, who, unfortunately, had a large ego that needed to be reafirmed in bars. I can imagine they had bitter scenes where the father justified his drinking through the health problems of the children. Of all three siblings, Ioan was the only one who had it all: perfect health, intelligence, and the ability to work hard. High expectations of success combined with a fear that he'd turn out like his father, must have weighted hard on his young shoulders. The experience at home would later help him deal with superiors who drank a lot and often had inflated egos.
In addition to bad habbits, and a colorful family, his father also had two sisters, who never had children of their own. They worked as seamstresses and specialized in the making of duvents, which were more expensive than regular clothes. They saw Ioan's potential and sent him off to school. We still own the Signer and Naumann sewing machine that had been their most valued possesion. Ioan turned himself into a scholar by studying hard. The letters he wrote back then revealed an idealistic young man who wrote poems about a first kiss followed by a marriage proposal in verse. When he went to take the Baccalaureat, which was only offered in a few centers in the country, the women in the neighborhood told him: "Go, many young men went, and they all returned just as they left". Against all odds, Ioan did well. He later went to college. There he specialized in Latin, which was as far feteched from the life of his practical aunts as astronomy and astrophysics is today from the life my parents led. They were, however, very proud of him. He, ultimately, became a teacher.
Just as things started to fall into place for him, he met Octavia, a smart and beautiful colleague who taught mathematics. However, once, he passed by her house and she and her two friends invited him in. They cut an apple in four, and shared it amongst gigles and laughter. And then each of the girls smoked a cigar. Ioan was aghast. He was not going to marry a woman with a vice. He had seen enough of that in his father. What he did not know, was that Octavia was not a habitual smoker. The cigars just happened to be around and she did not have anything else around other than the apple to share with her friends. In fact, that was one of the few cigars she had ever smoked. In the rashness of youth, he went off and proposed to another girl instead and like many young men, took the picture of his fiance with him to war.
He did not believe in war. Instead, he thought peace managed by competent leaders who made smart economic choices were the only way out of the looming hell. We still have the news clippings he had gathered with one showing Christ stretching his hands over the many graves generated by WWI, and protesting "Not again!" just as WWII was beginning. However, when Romania passed martial law he had no choice other than to descend into the man-made hell himself. He was the only one in his family who was healthy and so he was taken to be killed or turned into a cripple.
He did not fight in the first line. He went ahead of the first line of soldiers to check that the terrain was free of landmines, and that it was safe to go on. Amongst the men he knew who received the same training, he was the only one to survive. His collegues often fought to go with him on missions because he always returned. They joked that there was a magic aura around him that kept him and those who followed safe. Behind the magic was his ability to trust his own observations obtained directly from the battle field over the orders of his superiors. At least that's what he used to tell us. It must have also helped that he had good eye sight, noticed differences in the terain easily, and was very meticulous. In spite of the horrors of war, most soldiers must have wanted one thing and one thing only -- to return home alive. They also dreamed of seeing their families again, and hoped the war would leave them in one piece.
He did not like to talk about war. They were painful memories AND it was unsafe. After the communists came in power, the men who survived the war and were old enough to fight both the Germans and the Russians became "the enemies" of the people because they had once fought against Russia. The fact that they had no choice did not matter. Uncle Ioan had to bribe officials to give him papers that he had taught during the war because he had been ill. However, when my mother asked how he survived the war, he said he and his men lived because he disobeyed most orders he was given. He went out to check the terrain himself knowing that the order was given by an idiot who had no understanding of the situation in the field and found it easier to send men to their death than to ask questions, and learn enough to take a good decision. The orders were given by career military men. They only came for a few months to do just enough service to get promoted. He then had to go and explain the situation and convince the soon to be promoted jerk in charge that they were wrong without upseting their ego and getting himself court-martialled in the process. This resulted in a number of medals, which he spent the rest of his life hiding. It also resulted in lives saved, which is what he thought mattered.
Once he thought he had gone mad. A colleague came to report on the position of the enemy and his brain was on his sholder. All Ioan could think of was that he was talking to a person who no longer had a brain. And, no, he did not run away. He did the obvious and asked about the brain: "yes, yes, the position of the Germans is what I expected, but what about the brain on your shoulder?". The soldier shrugged and added: "oh, no, Lieutenant, it's not mine. Number 00115 was shot in the tree above me and his brain fell on my shoulder. It just did not fall off, and it did not seem right to shove it to the ground, somehow."
There was no use for money in the war. Yet, since he was educated, he was an officer and had a good salary. So, like most young men, he sent the money home, which his brother and brother-in-law exchanged for bragging rights in bars. When it was obvious that neither the Germans nor the Russians could kill Ioan, they were afraid of what he'd do to them when he came home and found all his savings wasted. Ioan hated bars and never wasted his time there. So, they bought a small plot of vineyard of 1400 square meters on Ioan's name and promptly wrote him about it. From then on, Ioan dreamt of this small parcel of land, and wrote about his plans. Once he returned, the land was lost to the communists. However, my mother now owns it. I have not been to see it since I was my children's age. My brother and I went there a few times and planted a few trees that never lived. People build houses in that part of town today. Perhaps one day one of my children or one of Mihai's children will use this land, but it would not look like in Ioan's dreams. Or we could sell it. Somehow we never managed to get enough courage to sell that, but perhaps the children will. It's worth about 10,000 euros now.
Ioan spent the time before the war, teaching Latin, Greek and Romanian. Once he returned from man-made-hell, Ioan wrote a Latin texbook, which I still have some versions of. He finished it just before latin was removed from the school curriculum, and was replaced by Russian. It had given him something to do while he recovered from some of the illnesses that were the legacy of war, but now it had to be put away together with the medals obtained from the second part of the war, the one against the Germans. The others he destroyed. They did not matter. It was the lives he saved that made the difference and he was not going to endanger the well being of his family by keeping them.
He now taught Romanian, and sometimes Geography, History and a bunch of other subjects for which the highschools in Lugoj did not have enough teachers. Soon after he returned, he found out that his fiance had married. However, Octavia was now teaching in Lugoj, and she was still single. They went out a few times, and he figured out she was not a smoker after all. They soon married quietly and stayed married until his death. He proposed after they had climbed a very steep hill together. Octavia noticed that the cheerful, but hard working young man she had met 15 years ago had changed. She jokingly told him that even so she was better off married to him for the rest of her life than living alone. It would save her from becoming one of the pitied spinsters of Lugoj who could not land a man. She'd say so sometimes even after they were married. She joked that saving her from becoming an old maid was his one great merit. They also still had the picture of his fiance. I once asked Tusa Tavi why she kept it, and what she'd say if she met the woman -- if she'd feel gelous. She quickly answered "oh, no, of course not. She was part of Ionica's past. I can't throw it away. If I met her, I'd simply thank her for leaving Ioan for me."
The subject that he taught did not matter as much as he thought when he was young. The primary thing he tried to teach his students was to be responsible survivors in whatever environment life placed them in next, whether it was they'd be in college, in a prison camp, in a factory, or at home. He never tried writing another book. When I returned to Romania in 2016, the lady who translated the school transcripts for David and Edward had been his student. She said Ioan was a very good, and very strict teacher, and that all his students went to college extremely well prepared.
Once he retired, he and Octavia lived a quiet life. He spent his days in the small garden from our house in Lugoj, and on the banks of the Timis river. He was outside -- often naked from the waist up so that he could feel the sun and the wind -- for as long as it was light, from spring to fall. Constant work, sunshine, the air and the wind help quell some of the anger left inside him. Sometimes that anger bubled to the surface. He once told his wife "you deserved to be slapped", and she answered with a loud statement of her own "Indrazneste!" ("Just dare!"). He might have fought the Germans and the Russians, but he never did dare to strike Octavia.
They had a good marriage, and always found a middle ground on which they were both comfortable. Although he never had the patience to fish himself, he liked to eat fresh fish, and bought fish from other men who caught it the river. My aunt never ate fish. So, their deal was that he would clean the fish, and she would fry it. He cleaned the house, too and kept it clean. My aunt's job was to wipe the dust off the furniture. While he loved the river, she could not swim. So, when he wanted to get across, he would carry her while swimming.
They shared a fondness of children. When the neighbors' little girl woke up, she'd pipe up her morning achievement accross the fence: "Tanti Tavi, facut fata caca la olita". My uncle would answer since he was the one always finding something to do outside: "Bravo, Nana, Bravo!" ("Good Job, Nana!"). At other times, she'd say: "Tanti Tavi, facut fata caca in pantaloni". Then he'd answer "Fui, Nana, fui!". Later the little girl became a lawyer, and said she never noticed it was not my aunt who was praising her.
When he married, Ioan was no longer on speaking terms with his brother or sister. Octavia changed that. She always liked to see the good in people, and to point it out aloud. She also understood that his family was part of him, and that being at peace with them would make him happier. She wanted him to be content even if, perhaps, it was no longer in his nature to be happy.
Unfortunately, once the cancer manifested itself through persistent diareea, they did not want to believe it was cancer until it was too late. He spent the last few good months of his life selling the first editions he had gathered to collectors, and gave the money to Leana, his niece, his brother's only daugther. Then life became hard again and he got back to another form of hell. My aunt cared for him with the help of a neighbour, Ecaterina, who had a been a trained nurse in WWII. Ioan called Keti their guarding angel whenever she came to the hospital to bring them something or when she came to help at home. Octavia recalled how sad she was that the man who used to swim across the river while carrying her along could no longer walk on his own, and had to hold onto her shoulders.
Octavia lived for another 20 years, years that the cancer and the war had stollen from Ioan. Leana is a dentist technician. She must be retired by now. However, she still places flowers on Ioan's grave. My aunt rennounced her right to his family home in the favour of his nephew, Victoras, his sister's only son. Victoras promptly donated the house to his best friend because he hated his wife, a former barmaid from whom he was divorced, and wanted to make sure neither her nor her/their two children inherited it. She had one child while they lived together, and another after she had left him. Since they were still married at the time the second child was born and there were no DNA tests back then, he was left to pay child support for both children after divorcing. It seemed unfair. He was resentful and those who knew him felt resentful on his behalf. However, the best friend turned out to be worse than the former spose. He demolished the house soon after aquiring ownership, and started to build a mansion in its place. Victoras was moved to a shed where he died fairly quickly. He was buried in the family plot, which lies just behind Ioan's grave. Leana places flowers there, too.
If Uncle Ioan had lived today, he would be labeled as a highly functional autistic person. He was extremely well orgainzed, which is why he had survived the war in front of the first line. It was also why he had difficulty in living with the rest of us. He said we wasted half of our life on Earth searching for things because we cannot put them in order. When my aunt was pregnant soon after they married, she was afraid of having a difficult child who would be unkind to her, and aborted. She regretted this decision when she died and told me that I should have a child once I had the means to support myself, and that the father did not matter since I would be raising him/her anyhow. Her dating advice was to drop a pen and see who picked it up. If I liked him, fine, if not, I could try again in a different classroom.
I have wondered if Uncle Ioan was so because of trauma he had suffered. So many children are autistic today. I wonder if we, as a society, manage to traumatize our children far more than the war, the unfair world that led to it and his own family had hurt Uncle Ionica. We seem to hurt our children simply by constraining them "to keep them safe", and through stimulating extreme addiction by placing them on screens so that we can get "other" things done. So very few of them are highly functioning today. Are they survivors with scars that are so deep that they cannot be hidden? sometimes they seem just like the animals we confine to small cages/apartments ... and then argue we have no other choice.
Of course, now, war is looming again on the horizon. And it seemes just as senseless as it seemed in the late 1930s. The house in Lugoj is still full of newspaper clippings about how senseless another world war would be from before WWII, some are even from before WWI, and of letters written by Uncle Ionica from the frontline. That he was organized, it's clear because these documents have been preserved. Some of his letters beg various officials for the assurance of a job upon return, and list his medals. No assurance was ever given. Yet each letter is so full of hope. It is the hope that makes them a heartbreaking read. Others talk about the plot of land he'd never see and what he would plant on it upon return. Almost 80 years have passed, and so much and yet so little has changed. The arguments that there is no other choice other than war are coming up again as the world richest men -- Elon Musk and other actors -- party at Dracula's castle. After all, Elon is right, Dracula's castle is the place to be on October 31.
What do I feel about war? I am sad and angry that young men and women are still sent to fight wars today. We should be fighting unfairness, powerty, disease, and climate change, and winning those battles. Intead, we fight man-made wars that make no sense. People still lose their limbs and sanity in the process even if some manage to stay alive. I am angry that we have puppet leaders who start wars just so that certain groups can hold onto power. I am sad and angry that we still plant bombs, we blow up people, destroy bridges, flatten cities, and sink ships, and cheer these attrocities with the help of the media. We aknowledge that all these will have to be rebuit. Then proudly claim to worry about climate change and keep saying we want to do something about it. Yet holes are dug under the sea so that the gas stored there goes directly into the atmosphere to prevent Russia from selling it. In the same time, people know how important it is that they recycle, and the ultimate goal of the year is to save water, keep the heat down and wash less.
In spite of all this I hope that one day my children will see a world led by people who can make honest, informed choices. I know it's utopic, but I still hope. Uncle Ioan had the same hopes. He loved talent, and was very grateful to live enough to see Nadia Comaneci win her perfect 10. She put Romania on the map like not other person had done it before. He was grateful that her talent was rewarded instead of stomped upon like it was done to so many people, himself included.
