84 years ago, on June 28, 1940, Romania received an ultimatum from the USSR: withdraw without a fight within four days from Bessarabia (Moldova) and Northern Bukovina. These regions, which were not even part of the Russo-German agreement of 1939, became a focal point. Hitler correctly interpreted this move as a sign that you couldn’t trust the Soviets to honor treaties, fueling his paranoia and prompting him to strike first.
The ensuing retreat was nothing short of chaotic. Among those who fled were my maternal great-grandparents. My grandmother, just 8 years old, later recounted the horrors she witnessed. The Soviet forces entered well before the agreed-upon deadline, committing atrocities—killing, violating, looting, and deporting. My great-grandfather, a gendarme officer, managed to escape with his entire family, refugees from Izmail. Had they been caught, they likely would have been killed. Some of his colleagues weren’t as fortunate, as the Soviets targeted intellectuals and political and military administrators.
Between June 29, 1940, and June 22, 1941, over 300,000 Romanians from Moldova were arrested, deported, and assassinated—more than 12% of the remaining population—in less than a year! The bloodshed and abuses continued with the same intensity until the death of history’s greatest criminal, Stalin, in 1953. Southern Moldova and Northern Bukovina were incorporated into the Ukrainian SSR—a poisoned gift from Stalin to the Ukrainians and a potential source of later disputes that could favor the Russians. As we witness today, their lapdogs still stir controversy over the recovery of Romanian territories.
My grandmother, a kind-hearted woman, passed away in 2019. The only times I heard her speak with fear, determination, and hatred were when the topic turned to the Russians or Russia. When I hear some claim that Moldovans aren’t truly Romanians, that they don’t want to be part of the EU, or that we shouldn’t support Ukraine because Russian aggression is mere Western propaganda, I feel sick. And I tremble with the same anger and nerves as my grandmother did.
Ink And Reason 