Rescuers of Jews
Sviderskis Stasys
Stasys SVIDERSKIS
When peace and order reign, the midsummer promises lots of new acquaintances, games, songs around the campfire, swimming, and walking trips. Parents, a little melancholy, accompany their children to the buses for summer camp; they know that kind, attentive teachers will take them where it is safe and nice. Then grave responsibility falls on the teachers' shoulders. The children yell cheerfully at water, so you must be vigilant and watchful lest any of them falls down or gets injured, all the while keeping count of them in your mind – are they all here, are they all healthy and safe...
And what if you suddenly hear the horrible word “War!” and you are alone with 150 children, while you are only twenty-one yourself?
Stasys Sviderskis, the head of a pioneer camp in Druskininkai, did not have much time for thinking on that bright 22 June 1941. His talent as an educator did not allow him to frighten and excite the children, but on the other hand, he could not suppress the threatening reality from them. Truth be told, the young teacher could not have known himself that the journey home would be so long and exhausting.
By his energetic effort S. Sviderskis managed to put all children entrusted to him onto the last train going to Vilnius. The hard wartime odyssey began – a journey across Russia to distant Udmurtia, where in a Lithuanian orphanage in the town of Debiosy the campers of Druskininkai met the end of the war.
Šulamita Elpertaitė-Kurilenko recalls:
“It was him, the young Lithuanian Sviderskis, who on the first day of the war did not abandon us, did not leave us to our fate; not at all at a loss, he lined us up and we marched to the railway. /.../ Many times the train was stopped by air-raids. We had to run outside, lie on the ground and hide, after which he would carefully gather us together and put us on the train again. There was an invalid girl and a midget boy, Icke, among us. During air-raids and shootings Sviderskis would carry them in his arms and, holding them firmly, would run to hide. That's what he was, all kindness and compassion within him. Just think of all the troubles burdening his shoulders. The journey was endlessly long, and we had to be fed, which was not that easy at the time. Many children were sick; he had to get medicine, and some children had to be taken to a hospital.
...The first summer without our parents passed in distant Udmurtia, but he tried to replace them for us, he loved us all and cared after us like a true father. /.../ Oh, it wasn't easy for him with us – 150 children, 70 of them Jewish, and he loved all of us without exception. He would go to towns and villages of Udmurtia collecting clothes, books, and notebooks for us. Thanks to him we were provided with living and learning conditions.
He ensured the safety of each of them, enabling them to return to Lithuania. Many of his Lithuanian wards happily reached their parents, but very few of the seventy Jewish children were lucky enough to meet their mothers and fathers. An educator and a teacher, an enlightened man, Stasys Sviderskis saved seventy young Jewish lives.
“Thank you, Father!” wrote Šulamita, and all 150 children rescued by him would be willing to sign under these words.
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999
When peace and order reign, the midsummer promises lots of new acquaintances, games, songs around the campfire, swimming, and walking trips. Parents, a little melancholy, accompany their children to the buses for summer camp; they know that kind, attentive teachers will take them where it is safe and nice. Then grave responsibility falls on the teachers' shoulders. The children yell cheerfully at water, so you must be vigilant and watchful lest any of them falls down or gets injured, all the while keeping count of them in your mind – are they all here, are they all healthy and safe...
And what if you suddenly hear the horrible word “War!” and you are alone with 150 children, while you are only twenty-one yourself?
Stasys Sviderskis, the head of a pioneer camp in Druskininkai, did not have much time for thinking on that bright 22 June 1941. His talent as an educator did not allow him to frighten and excite the children, but on the other hand, he could not suppress the threatening reality from them. Truth be told, the young teacher could not have known himself that the journey home would be so long and exhausting.
By his energetic effort S. Sviderskis managed to put all children entrusted to him onto the last train going to Vilnius. The hard wartime odyssey began – a journey across Russia to distant Udmurtia, where in a Lithuanian orphanage in the town of Debiosy the campers of Druskininkai met the end of the war.
Šulamita Elpertaitė-Kurilenko recalls:
“It was him, the young Lithuanian Sviderskis, who on the first day of the war did not abandon us, did not leave us to our fate; not at all at a loss, he lined us up and we marched to the railway. /.../ Many times the train was stopped by air-raids. We had to run outside, lie on the ground and hide, after which he would carefully gather us together and put us on the train again. There was an invalid girl and a midget boy, Icke, among us. During air-raids and shootings Sviderskis would carry them in his arms and, holding them firmly, would run to hide. That's what he was, all kindness and compassion within him. Just think of all the troubles burdening his shoulders. The journey was endlessly long, and we had to be fed, which was not that easy at the time. Many children were sick; he had to get medicine, and some children had to be taken to a hospital.
...The first summer without our parents passed in distant Udmurtia, but he tried to replace them for us, he loved us all and cared after us like a true father. /.../ Oh, it wasn't easy for him with us – 150 children, 70 of them Jewish, and he loved all of us without exception. He would go to towns and villages of Udmurtia collecting clothes, books, and notebooks for us. Thanks to him we were provided with living and learning conditions.
He ensured the safety of each of them, enabling them to return to Lithuania. Many of his Lithuanian wards happily reached their parents, but very few of the seventy Jewish children were lucky enough to meet their mothers and fathers. An educator and a teacher, an enlightened man, Stasys Sviderskis saved seventy young Jewish lives.
“Thank you, Father!” wrote Šulamita, and all 150 children rescued by him would be willing to sign under these words.
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999