Rescuers of Jews
Stanevičienė Zofija
Zofija STANEVIČIENĖ
STANISLOVAS STANEVIČIUS
They hid Chana Šneiderytė from the village of Matatiškės on their farm in the village of Vaidatoniai in the district of Tauragė for a year.
The arrests of Jews began soon after the German occupation of Lithuania. One Sunday the police came to detain Zofija and Stanislovas Stanevičius’ neighbour Chaimas Šneideris and his sons. Chaimas asked a Lithuanian policeman to go to Stanislovas Stanevičius and invite him to say farewell. The Germans and the Lithuanians who were present did not want them to meet. Stanevičius knew many languages, German, Russian, Polish, Yiddish and Romany, and he was on amicable terms with people of various nationalities. He asked the German to talk to the Jew, and chastised the Lithuanian.
Šneideris told him: “Stanislovas, I probably won’t come back. You’re a good and honest man, be a guardian to my family, my wife and my children. Advise them on how to live. Help them in trouble.”
Chaimas did not know that soon his family too would be killed.
One dull overcast autumn day, Chana Šneiderytė came to the Stanevičius. On hearing the dog barking, Zofija Stanevičienė came out and saw Chana trying to hide in the bushes. She led the frightened girl indoors. She did not tell her husband about the young Jewish girl until the following day. He said: “It’s good that you took her in. After all, I promised Chaimas, God rest his soul, to take care of and help his family.”
A hideout was arranged in the kitchen behind a large cupboard in which old clothes were hung and wood was kept.
The parents warned their daughters not to tell anybody about Chana, since otherwise she and the entire family would be shot. The father told everybody to call her Ana, and she herself accepted the idea.
The family lived by the old highway near Kryžkalnis. It was a beautiful farm, surrounded by old trees, and there was a well which never ran dry even in the hottest summer. Possibly that is why the army often stopped there, and in June 1942 a German hospital was set up there. Somebody probably informed the Germans about the hidden young Jewess. An officer went to the owner of the farm: “You’re hiding a Jewish woman,” he said. “I’ll find her in the kitchen behind the cupboard.” Stanevičius implored the officer not to kill the girl, and told him what he had promised her father before he died.
“Then the whole family will be shot,” retorted the officer. The farmer again pleaded for the lives of the children, since he himself might have children somewhere.
“I have children, and you’re lucky that I’m Austrian. If you’d met a German, nothing would have helped. Still, take your Jew away immediately, wherever you want. She can’t stay here.”
That summer there was an outbreak of typhus, and Stanevičius’ daughter Stasė fell ill. The German doctor did not examine her; he only gave her some tablets and told the parents to take her to hospital. The Germans were very afraid of infectious diseases. This way the chance came to take Chana away from the home. The farmer took a pair of horses, harnessed them, put a lot of hay in the wagon and found a white linen blanket. Zofija raised the blanket so that nobody in the yard could see how Stanislovas carried Chana as if she was the sick girl and laid her in the wagon. She crawled into the hay, while Stasė lay beside her. When they passed the gates, the Germans did not check the wagon.
They did not take the main road; instead they went along the field roads. Chana began crying, and the farmer silenced her by saying that they did not know whom they might meet. If they were searched, he told the girls to thrash around pretending to be seriously ill.
They all reached safely the farm of their relatives, the Kmitas, in the village of Butvilai. The girls were put in a small room, and Stanislovas asked the hosts to keep them until Stasė recovered; Ana, a relative from Kaunas, was to take care of the sick.
The hospital left Stanevičius’ farm. The Kmitas told their children the true situation, and they agreed that Ana would stay with them. She lived openly, without hiding. For the sake of variety, her hosts would take her to Church festivals in Kražiai or Kaltinėnai. Once they took her to the Stanevičius. There she stood for a long time in a meadow from where her native village of Matatiškės could be seen. The home of her parents was empty.
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 3,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 2005
STANISLOVAS STANEVIČIUS
They hid Chana Šneiderytė from the village of Matatiškės on their farm in the village of Vaidatoniai in the district of Tauragė for a year.
The arrests of Jews began soon after the German occupation of Lithuania. One Sunday the police came to detain Zofija and Stanislovas Stanevičius’ neighbour Chaimas Šneideris and his sons. Chaimas asked a Lithuanian policeman to go to Stanislovas Stanevičius and invite him to say farewell. The Germans and the Lithuanians who were present did not want them to meet. Stanevičius knew many languages, German, Russian, Polish, Yiddish and Romany, and he was on amicable terms with people of various nationalities. He asked the German to talk to the Jew, and chastised the Lithuanian.
Šneideris told him: “Stanislovas, I probably won’t come back. You’re a good and honest man, be a guardian to my family, my wife and my children. Advise them on how to live. Help them in trouble.”
Chaimas did not know that soon his family too would be killed.
One dull overcast autumn day, Chana Šneiderytė came to the Stanevičius. On hearing the dog barking, Zofija Stanevičienė came out and saw Chana trying to hide in the bushes. She led the frightened girl indoors. She did not tell her husband about the young Jewish girl until the following day. He said: “It’s good that you took her in. After all, I promised Chaimas, God rest his soul, to take care of and help his family.”
A hideout was arranged in the kitchen behind a large cupboard in which old clothes were hung and wood was kept.
The parents warned their daughters not to tell anybody about Chana, since otherwise she and the entire family would be shot. The father told everybody to call her Ana, and she herself accepted the idea.
The family lived by the old highway near Kryžkalnis. It was a beautiful farm, surrounded by old trees, and there was a well which never ran dry even in the hottest summer. Possibly that is why the army often stopped there, and in June 1942 a German hospital was set up there. Somebody probably informed the Germans about the hidden young Jewess. An officer went to the owner of the farm: “You’re hiding a Jewish woman,” he said. “I’ll find her in the kitchen behind the cupboard.” Stanevičius implored the officer not to kill the girl, and told him what he had promised her father before he died.
“Then the whole family will be shot,” retorted the officer. The farmer again pleaded for the lives of the children, since he himself might have children somewhere.
“I have children, and you’re lucky that I’m Austrian. If you’d met a German, nothing would have helped. Still, take your Jew away immediately, wherever you want. She can’t stay here.”
That summer there was an outbreak of typhus, and Stanevičius’ daughter Stasė fell ill. The German doctor did not examine her; he only gave her some tablets and told the parents to take her to hospital. The Germans were very afraid of infectious diseases. This way the chance came to take Chana away from the home. The farmer took a pair of horses, harnessed them, put a lot of hay in the wagon and found a white linen blanket. Zofija raised the blanket so that nobody in the yard could see how Stanislovas carried Chana as if she was the sick girl and laid her in the wagon. She crawled into the hay, while Stasė lay beside her. When they passed the gates, the Germans did not check the wagon.
They did not take the main road; instead they went along the field roads. Chana began crying, and the farmer silenced her by saying that they did not know whom they might meet. If they were searched, he told the girls to thrash around pretending to be seriously ill.
They all reached safely the farm of their relatives, the Kmitas, in the village of Butvilai. The girls were put in a small room, and Stanislovas asked the hosts to keep them until Stasė recovered; Ana, a relative from Kaunas, was to take care of the sick.
The hospital left Stanevičius’ farm. The Kmitas told their children the true situation, and they agreed that Ana would stay with them. She lived openly, without hiding. For the sake of variety, her hosts would take her to Church festivals in Kražiai or Kaltinėnai. Once they took her to the Stanevičius. There she stood for a long time in a meadow from where her native village of Matatiškės could be seen. The home of her parents was empty.
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 3,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 2005