Rescuers of Jews

Baublys Sergijus

From Rahel Blumenthal's Memoirs:

My mother Esia Sandler was born in Kovno, my father’s mother was also from Lithuania and my grandfather was from Latvia. My parents were divorced before the war. My father was an electrical engineer and has his own firm. I attended a private Jewish school called Shwabe in Kovno. I was 10 years old.
Before the war, my mother and father had a very close friend, a Lithuanian called Valčiūnas. He was acquainted with one of the Baublys. There were six brothers in all and I was entrusted to his younger brother who lived on the outskirts of Kovno.
Baublys' family lived in a two-bedroom apartment. They had a son called Petriukas, his wife Jadvyga was expecting their second child. Moreover, they had Jadvyga's younger sister Marytė living with them as well as Baublys' parents. On our way to their home, I was briefed with the following information: only Baublys and his parents would know my real identity; to the rest of the family I would be Lena Vorobjova, a Russian girl. I would explain that I speak Lithuanian because my mother was Lithuanian by birth, had left for Russia and married a Russian.
Since the home of the Baublys was situated on the outskirts and the frontline was nearing, Baublys' wife decided that it was time to leave. She had the address of some relatives in the country and we were offered a room there to which the whole Baublys clan flocked. The village was called Bružė, Vilkija district. Before the war we would go there to our Dacha (country summer house) for vacations. The family of millers with whom we now dwelt was relatively poor and to feed our herd was no small task. From the millers house we could see smoke from the direction of Kovno. No one could understand what this meant. One of the villagers had been to the town and reported back that the ghetto was on fire. This was the beginning of the ghetto liquidation. Women were sent to Stutthof concentration camp and men were sent to Dachau. From the vast Blumenthal family, only my father survived. My mother died from typhus in Stutthof on 18 January 1945.
I remember Victory Day. By then I already knew that my father was somewhere in Bavaria. When Gomulka came to rule Poland, it was permitted for former Polish Nationals to travel home to Poland. I arranged to marry a Polish man in order to obtain Polish papers and I left for Warsaw on 17 March 1957. From Warsaw I called my father. We could not speak. We just sobbed. After six and a half months I received a passport and I set off for Geneva to reunite with my father. I recognized him immediately though he was shorter than I had remembered. I spoke German from childhood and so I quickly found work as an analyst and as a translator. 

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