The Pre-War Post-German Refrigerator (Part I)

Here I would like to return to the just mentioned unique pre-war post-German refrigerator. 

At that time refrigerators were hard to procure, simply because the State-controlled market did not import them. 

Of course, in stores, depots, restaurants, bars and lunch rooms there were for sure different kinds of freezers, where products prone to going bad were kept to prevent spoilage. 

However the regular citizen was forced to the seasonal use of the so called RUSSIAN REFRIGERATOR. Most likely because of the settlement in this town and in its vicinity of very many Lwowians, who remembered the Soviets from 1939 as a bunch of absolutely wild, uncivilized and unlettered troglodytes, out of hatred towards them, everything that was of the worst quality, the most pitiful, the funniest and even at the highest level ridiculous, awkward and technically backwards, this was all mean spiritedly given the label RUSSIAN or SOVIET. 

And so for example communication across long distances with the help of a yell bore the name SOVIET TELEPHONE, gang rape—RUSSIAN WEDDING PARTY, an indeterminate amount of time, long, reaching for eternity—RUSSIAN MONTH, not to mention already sayings such as: RUSSIAN WC, SOVIET WATERPROOF WATCH or SOVIET RADIATOR. 

Moreover, in the absence of luck all these innocent sayings and jokes could at the time lead to the arrest of the joker by the statutes on whispered propaganda, and even to a court-ordered sentence to prison. 

A RUSSIAN REFRIGERATOR was based on keeping perishable goods outside, away from the relatively warmer house, or in a certain sense very much outdoors. 

In a climate in which through three quarters of the year it was warmer inside the house than it was outside of it, the idea of the RUSSIAN REFRIGERATOR was widely adopted because it made a lot of sense. 

Depending on the circumstances many different variations of this idea existed, for example hanging goods in a sack out the window, commandeering the space between double sided windows, and if you had the happy luck to have some sort of balcony, then the possibilities became boundless. 

Boxes or even containers through the long cold months gave maximum satisfaction. Mine had been secured to the metallic fence of my terrace—a German box of raw board from three PANZER-FAUSTS with two shelves I installed inside of it cleverly. 

My modest, second story apartment had on its side thin stairs, leading once to the garden, but now as if to nowhere. Because of the damage from the war, the stairs became accessible to any passerby, so as soon as I moved in, to protect against any number of thieves I placed on them prudently a few characteristic German signs warning against landmines. 

They were yellow, triangular, pointing downwards flags the size of a hand, with the black symbol of death’s head on them. Normally in the minefields these were placed on thick wire, bent in the shape of a gallows, at a height of some eighty centimeters and painted in red. 

Anyone who lived through the war knew well this, let’s say, logo. Otherwise their chances of survival dropped significantly. 

The power of this cautionary symbol had to be so strong that no thief ever looked for anything in the vicinity of my terrace. 

I have to admit honestly here that for a long time after the end of the so called war actions, the Soviet corps of engineers devotedly and with great passion occupied themselves with demining—and in very many places, forming as if a part of the landscape, there were visible large white signs scrawled in Cyrillic: MIN NIET. 

Because of my RUSSIAN REFRIGERATOR I was disdainful and with desperation constantly looked out for some refrigerator that was real. Twice I was offered something interesting, but neither time did I have enough money for a quick transaction. 

This was more than a year before the assentierung, in the second half of June. The poor populace had not yet recovered completely after the death of the leader of the Soviet revolution, and in many places traces of the gigantic national mourning remained to terrify the mass of regular people who, like members of the party, were unable to recover emotionally and psychically after all this.

Just this day began beautiful, balmy, sunny weather. In the late morning hours, passing the cafe, I stopped by to see my friend Bławat and while standing by the coat check counter, in some kind of light conversation with him, I saw suddenly a real eye opener just leaving the coffee room.