Rescuers of Jews
Sviderskis Alfonsas
Alfonsas SVIDERSKIS
Pushing a pram before him, a man was hurrying away from the ghetto wall. Faster, faster home! He could still hear his wife's gentle, kind voice in his ears, 'Let's bring this girl up, Alfonsai. She could be Romukas' friend.' Will it be easier at home, though? Will it be safer? The baby in the pram is a stranger, it is a little Jewish girl, and the whole family could be shot dead for her hiding. 'Take care of her, Sviderski,' said that man instead of a farewell. Regardless, both Alfonsas and his wife had already made up their minds - Rūtelė was going to stay with them.
Oppressive, anxious months and years were passing by, and nobody knew when the war would end or who would win it. In spring 1944, when news from the front gave some hope of an approaching denouement, Alfonsas left for Vilijampolė on business. The sound of noisy music from loudspeakers overflowed from the territory of the ghetto, but it was unable to muffle heartbreaking cries. Alfonsas saw how armed executioners dragged half-dressed children from the houses and threw them like logs onto trucks. This sight left a lasting mark in his memory. And every time he looked at Rūtele, Alfonsas was horrified: she could have been one of them.
As is well known, trouble does not wander alone the home of the Sviderskiai became a temporary Nazi headquarters. Fortunately, the host was also smart: by then he had dug a shelter near the house. He had worked very carefully at night, and even his old father was unaware of the true purpose of this shelter. His father's peace of mind had to be preserved - since the beginning of the war the family had no news from the younger brother Stasys, the head of a pioneer camp in Druskininkai. 'Look, do not bring a disaster upon the family,' the father would sometimes shake his head. Some time after the retreat of Germans, when brothers Levas and Meilachas Vinikai came out of the bunker blinking in the bright sun, followed by Rūtele's father Karnovskis, the old man cried out: such things right under the Germans' noses! In the depths of his soul he was happy: well done, Alfonsai, you did not disgrace the Sviderskiai.
'The Nazis were quite useful,' laughed his son. 'When they switched on the light, they could not even suspect that the lamps in the bunker lit up simultaneously. I had laid the wiring underground.'
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999
Pushing a pram before him, a man was hurrying away from the ghetto wall. Faster, faster home! He could still hear his wife's gentle, kind voice in his ears, 'Let's bring this girl up, Alfonsai. She could be Romukas' friend.' Will it be easier at home, though? Will it be safer? The baby in the pram is a stranger, it is a little Jewish girl, and the whole family could be shot dead for her hiding. 'Take care of her, Sviderski,' said that man instead of a farewell. Regardless, both Alfonsas and his wife had already made up their minds - Rūtelė was going to stay with them.
Oppressive, anxious months and years were passing by, and nobody knew when the war would end or who would win it. In spring 1944, when news from the front gave some hope of an approaching denouement, Alfonsas left for Vilijampolė on business. The sound of noisy music from loudspeakers overflowed from the territory of the ghetto, but it was unable to muffle heartbreaking cries. Alfonsas saw how armed executioners dragged half-dressed children from the houses and threw them like logs onto trucks. This sight left a lasting mark in his memory. And every time he looked at Rūtele, Alfonsas was horrified: she could have been one of them.
As is well known, trouble does not wander alone the home of the Sviderskiai became a temporary Nazi headquarters. Fortunately, the host was also smart: by then he had dug a shelter near the house. He had worked very carefully at night, and even his old father was unaware of the true purpose of this shelter. His father's peace of mind had to be preserved - since the beginning of the war the family had no news from the younger brother Stasys, the head of a pioneer camp in Druskininkai. 'Look, do not bring a disaster upon the family,' the father would sometimes shake his head. Some time after the retreat of Germans, when brothers Levas and Meilachas Vinikai came out of the bunker blinking in the bright sun, followed by Rūtele's father Karnovskis, the old man cried out: such things right under the Germans' noses! In the depths of his soul he was happy: well done, Alfonsai, you did not disgrace the Sviderskiai.
'The Nazis were quite useful,' laughed his son. 'When they switched on the light, they could not even suspect that the lamps in the bunker lit up simultaneously. I had laid the wiring underground.'
From Hands Bringing Life and Bread, Volume 2,
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum. Vilnius, 1999