The following story I heard from Rabbi Mendel Aronow, z"l A man was once travelling, away from his home, when the war broke out. The front and the fighting separated between him and his home town, making travel back to his family impossible. Besides becoming – suddenly – a roaming refugee, he was now without contact with his family, and was desperate for any information about them. He went from place to place, and every place he came to he began inquiring pleadingly about his family and if anyone had heard from them. In the course of his travelling, he arrived in Rostov. There, too, whoever he met he would express his concern and worry about the welfare of his family and his ignorance about their whereabouts. One of the people he met there, hearing his plight, had a suggestion for him: “Here in Rostov, there is the burial place, the ohel, of a great tzaddik who passed away here not long ago. Many people have davened there and were helped. You should do so as well”. The Jew was desperate, and didn’t have any other recourse, so he went to the tziyun of the Rebbe Rashab (who was the tzadik being referred to). Once there, he poured out his heart, tearfully begging the Eibishter to reunite him with his family. As he emerged from the ohel, he met a chassidic Jew, with a reddish beard. The chosid greeted him with sholom Aleichem, and asked what he is doing in town. Once again the Jew expressed his great concern for his wife and children, how he is frantic about their welfare and desperate to be reunited with them. “ There is a neighboring village”, the chosid told him, “only a few hours from here, that sees many wandering refugees find their way there. Why don’t you try to travel there? Perhaps you will find your family there as well.” The Jew had no better plans, and followed the advice. To his great joy, he did in fact find his family there! With the war still raging around them, and their home still inaccessible, they fled together towards the interior of Russia, seeking relative safety. Eventually, they came to settle in Samarkand. In Samarkand there were many refugees, Jews from all backgrounds, who had come there for the same reason. However, most of the groups, upon their arrival, began worrying about themselves; - they built themselves a shtibel and the like. The Lubavitcher chassidim, in contrast, upon their arrival, immediately got to work setting up a cheder for all of the Jewish children there. Since this Jew had young children, whom he needed to educate, he sent them to the Lubavitcher cheder, which was the only one available. Thus, it came to be that he found himself participating in various events with the Lubavitcher chassidim. Once, it was a yoma d’pagra, and he joined the farbrengen of the Lubavitchers. During the farbrengen, he was sitting next to a chosid, who was trying to introduce him to Lubavitch. He was telling him about each of the Rebbeim. He told him about the Alter Rebbe, the first Rebbe, who established chassidus Chabad, and about the Mitteler Rebbe, and the Tzemach Tzedek etc. Finally, the chosid took out a picture from his pocket, and showed it to the Jew. “And this”, he explained, “was our Rebbe (the Rebbe Rashab), he passed away not long ago, and he is buried in Rostov”. Hearing that, the Jew looked at him in disdain. “What kind of nonsense are you telling me?” he exclaimed. “Passed away?! Why I saw him with my own eyes. I met him when I was in Rostov, coming out of the tziyun of the tzaddik, and he was the one who advised me to go the village where I was reunited with my family. His beard was, perhaps, a bit more white, but he was very much alive!”