Rescued Jewish Children
Judith Mintzer-Blacher Walker
Judith Mintzer-Blacher Walker
MY SURVIVAL STORY
I was born in Kaunas on August 27, 1938, to Roza Osteraite and Beras Abramas Minceris (Mintzer).
My story begins from the time my entire family was sent to the Kovno Ghetto (I think it was Vilijampolė). I must have been 2-3 years old, but some of the things that I can picture in my head are the following: my mother and father, my uncle Frumkinas and his wife Zilia and son Senia, as well as my grandparents on my mother´s side, lived together in one house. My uncle was ill, he had a blood disease, and a doctor from the Ghetto came to extract his blood into a washbasin. I remember this coagulated blood, while standing in my crib, crying terribly because I was dirty and scared. Nobody took care of me. My next picture is when I was playing alone in a small “garden”, when all of a sudden some German guards walked in and ordered my family to get out. I saw them taking things out of the house in one of my blankets. I later was told that all our few belongings were stolen. While I was hiding in the plants, my family was ordered to lineup, answer questions, and immediately were separated. They took my grandparents and shot them in the head in front of me and the rest of my family. I went to their side, and turned away seeing their wide open eyes.
While the guards left, I continued in the garden and picked up a piece of paper, which I took to my grieving mother, upstairs. It turned out to be money, which had fallen out of my blanket and served to keep us alive for a while!! We were constantly ordered to get out and get ready for whatever the guards had planned for that day. I was scared all the time, seeing as my parents either cried or tried to protect me. They would come into our room, destroy almost everything they saw, gave orders to their dogs to attack us and so forth. My mother always found ways to hide me. She would tell me to climb to the attic, leave the door open, so the guards would think that it had already been searched while I was buried under boxes and whatever else was available. I was told not to breath and not to move. The time I remember most and the closest I came to be found, was when I became ill with whooping cough (was told later). A guard apparently had heard something and was on his way up to the attic, when another guard told him not to waste more time, as it had already been searched, because of that open door. I remained there literally paralyzed with fear. Finally, I was able to crawl out and through holes in the attic, I saw how babies were being torn from their parents by the dogs and killed instantly. This event has stayed within my head to this day, and caused me to keep my eyes open, the lights in the bedroom on, for a long time, until I would fall asleep.
My mother and father had somehow learned of the Great Action taking place in a few days, where all children and elders would be shot. The next day, when they were able to leave the Ghetto, my mother decided to visit and beg an acquaintance in Kaunas, where my uncle had lived, to take me in, and keep me safe from being taken. From what my mother later told me, she had begged a full day, until Natalija Renčinauskiene finally said she would help her. They discussed the plan on how I would get out of the Ghetto, and how I was to be put (in the middle of the night) inside a rowboat and taken by a fisherman accross the river, while Natasha waited with a baby carriage. Her husband Antanas Renčinauskas and her daughters Leokadija and Anastazija, found out the night of my rescue. Natalija told me never to speak Yiddish and not to show myself to anyone. My father had carried me out in a potato sack on his way to work. The guards at the gate put knives through the sack, but I was drugged and didn´t feel them.
I was not allowed to go outside, until I learned to speak Lithuanian. Anastazija was supposed to act as my mother, due to the likeness, we both had black hair. While Leokdija became my friend and with whom I slept in the same bed. I later learned that if I went to the yard to play with other Lithuanian children, I was to be careful, because the first floor was occupied by the Nazi Officers. In spite of it, I was never afraid of them, and they in turn gave me some butter or bread or whatever they had, which I quickly took upstairs to my “mother Natasha”. We moved from there, because someone had discovered who I was, and went to different places, one of them being a Catholic Convent, where Natasha´s sister (a nun) took us in. From there somehow my memory takes me to the woods. We lived in dug out caves under trees. I came out often and still remember those beautiful white birch trees and their smell. There were soldier also, who continued to share with me some of their food, not knowing who they were saving as well.
It becomes blurry in my mind, but somehow we were back in Kaunas, the apartment, and life went on. I guess the war was over with Germany, so I had to learn Russian and await the arrival of my real mother or father. Neither showed up soon enough, as my father had been sent to concentration camp, he was liberated by the Americans. I was told they overfed him and he suffered an occlusion in his belly. My mother was liberated by Russians and was put to work as a seamstress. In the meantime, it was decided to send me to school, so while I was in line awaiting a medical checkup, Natasha showed up with a lady I could not remember, but was told she was my real mother and her name was Roza. We went back to the apartment, where Natasha and my mother spoke alone for a long time. I then was told to go with Roza, I was sad and fraightened upon having to abandon my only home. Thereafter, my mother and I went looking for my father. She learned that he was in a Hospital in Budapest. She managed to bring him to a small village in Germany by the name of St.Ottilien, near Munich, where unfortunately he too died. He is still buried there. After a long time of grief, she met another wonderful man, also from Lithuania,who had lost his wife and 3 year old son to the gas chambers, whom she later married. The rest is another part of my life. I was adopted by my stepfather, who loved me immensely and provided us with a comfortable life.
It is difficult for me to describe all the facts, but I do know that the Rencinauskas were brave and honest. Their bravery should never be forgotten. The entire family was at risk throughout the entire time and yet, they displayed so much love for me that I grew up a sane and intelligent person. In 1991, when Lithuania became independent, I planned a trip to see them. I was overcome by the fact that my dear friend Leokadija, had passed away from cancer. But my happiness, upon seeing Natasha and Nastya, was something I will never forget and will cherish that memory forever.
At present, I am an Honorary Consul General of Lithuania. I hold no ill feeling for anyone, I am proud to have been born in Lithuania, I take care of all the Lithuanians who come to this country (Ecuador). I have helped people in similar situations and continue to do so.
2010, October 20
MY SURVIVAL STORY
I was born in Kaunas on August 27, 1938, to Roza Osteraite and Beras Abramas Minceris (Mintzer).
My story begins from the time my entire family was sent to the Kovno Ghetto (I think it was Vilijampolė). I must have been 2-3 years old, but some of the things that I can picture in my head are the following: my mother and father, my uncle Frumkinas and his wife Zilia and son Senia, as well as my grandparents on my mother´s side, lived together in one house. My uncle was ill, he had a blood disease, and a doctor from the Ghetto came to extract his blood into a washbasin. I remember this coagulated blood, while standing in my crib, crying terribly because I was dirty and scared. Nobody took care of me. My next picture is when I was playing alone in a small “garden”, when all of a sudden some German guards walked in and ordered my family to get out. I saw them taking things out of the house in one of my blankets. I later was told that all our few belongings were stolen. While I was hiding in the plants, my family was ordered to lineup, answer questions, and immediately were separated. They took my grandparents and shot them in the head in front of me and the rest of my family. I went to their side, and turned away seeing their wide open eyes.
While the guards left, I continued in the garden and picked up a piece of paper, which I took to my grieving mother, upstairs. It turned out to be money, which had fallen out of my blanket and served to keep us alive for a while!! We were constantly ordered to get out and get ready for whatever the guards had planned for that day. I was scared all the time, seeing as my parents either cried or tried to protect me. They would come into our room, destroy almost everything they saw, gave orders to their dogs to attack us and so forth. My mother always found ways to hide me. She would tell me to climb to the attic, leave the door open, so the guards would think that it had already been searched while I was buried under boxes and whatever else was available. I was told not to breath and not to move. The time I remember most and the closest I came to be found, was when I became ill with whooping cough (was told later). A guard apparently had heard something and was on his way up to the attic, when another guard told him not to waste more time, as it had already been searched, because of that open door. I remained there literally paralyzed with fear. Finally, I was able to crawl out and through holes in the attic, I saw how babies were being torn from their parents by the dogs and killed instantly. This event has stayed within my head to this day, and caused me to keep my eyes open, the lights in the bedroom on, for a long time, until I would fall asleep.
My mother and father had somehow learned of the Great Action taking place in a few days, where all children and elders would be shot. The next day, when they were able to leave the Ghetto, my mother decided to visit and beg an acquaintance in Kaunas, where my uncle had lived, to take me in, and keep me safe from being taken. From what my mother later told me, she had begged a full day, until Natalija Renčinauskiene finally said she would help her. They discussed the plan on how I would get out of the Ghetto, and how I was to be put (in the middle of the night) inside a rowboat and taken by a fisherman accross the river, while Natasha waited with a baby carriage. Her husband Antanas Renčinauskas and her daughters Leokadija and Anastazija, found out the night of my rescue. Natalija told me never to speak Yiddish and not to show myself to anyone. My father had carried me out in a potato sack on his way to work. The guards at the gate put knives through the sack, but I was drugged and didn´t feel them.
I was not allowed to go outside, until I learned to speak Lithuanian. Anastazija was supposed to act as my mother, due to the likeness, we both had black hair. While Leokdija became my friend and with whom I slept in the same bed. I later learned that if I went to the yard to play with other Lithuanian children, I was to be careful, because the first floor was occupied by the Nazi Officers. In spite of it, I was never afraid of them, and they in turn gave me some butter or bread or whatever they had, which I quickly took upstairs to my “mother Natasha”. We moved from there, because someone had discovered who I was, and went to different places, one of them being a Catholic Convent, where Natasha´s sister (a nun) took us in. From there somehow my memory takes me to the woods. We lived in dug out caves under trees. I came out often and still remember those beautiful white birch trees and their smell. There were soldier also, who continued to share with me some of their food, not knowing who they were saving as well.
It becomes blurry in my mind, but somehow we were back in Kaunas, the apartment, and life went on. I guess the war was over with Germany, so I had to learn Russian and await the arrival of my real mother or father. Neither showed up soon enough, as my father had been sent to concentration camp, he was liberated by the Americans. I was told they overfed him and he suffered an occlusion in his belly. My mother was liberated by Russians and was put to work as a seamstress. In the meantime, it was decided to send me to school, so while I was in line awaiting a medical checkup, Natasha showed up with a lady I could not remember, but was told she was my real mother and her name was Roza. We went back to the apartment, where Natasha and my mother spoke alone for a long time. I then was told to go with Roza, I was sad and fraightened upon having to abandon my only home. Thereafter, my mother and I went looking for my father. She learned that he was in a Hospital in Budapest. She managed to bring him to a small village in Germany by the name of St.Ottilien, near Munich, where unfortunately he too died. He is still buried there. After a long time of grief, she met another wonderful man, also from Lithuania,who had lost his wife and 3 year old son to the gas chambers, whom she later married. The rest is another part of my life. I was adopted by my stepfather, who loved me immensely and provided us with a comfortable life.
It is difficult for me to describe all the facts, but I do know that the Rencinauskas were brave and honest. Their bravery should never be forgotten. The entire family was at risk throughout the entire time and yet, they displayed so much love for me that I grew up a sane and intelligent person. In 1991, when Lithuania became independent, I planned a trip to see them. I was overcome by the fact that my dear friend Leokadija, had passed away from cancer. But my happiness, upon seeing Natasha and Nastya, was something I will never forget and will cherish that memory forever.
At present, I am an Honorary Consul General of Lithuania. I hold no ill feeling for anyone, I am proud to have been born in Lithuania, I take care of all the Lithuanians who come to this country (Ecuador). I have helped people in similar situations and continue to do so.
2010, October 20