Rescued Jewish Children
Tamara Ratneryte-Kadishaite-Levy
My Sister's Name was Ruth
Tamara Kadishaite-Ratner-Levy
From: Solomon Abramovich and Yakov Zilberg “Smuggled in Potato Sacks”, 2011
Until I found my birth certificate in the Kaunas archives, I did not know when exactly I had been born. I believed it was in the ghetto, but I learnt that I was actually born in January 1941, not actually before the war. My father, Shimon Ratner, was a building engineer contractor, a partner of Bagriansky in a small private firm. My mother Judesa, née Zeigarnik, worked as a kindergarten teacher.
So I was just a baby when my parents were forced into the ghetto. Ida Shateriene was a liaison officer whose duty was to keep contact with Gentiles who were willing to help save Jewish children. V. Zubovas mediated between the ghetto underground and Dr Baublys, the director of an orphanage in Vilijampole. It was agreed that Jewish children would be brought there one by one and left as if they had been abandoned. This 'joint venture' was extremely dangerous for both sides.
The story of how I was smuggled out of Kaunas Ghetto is described in the book 'Ir be ginklo kariai' which means 'Unarmed Fighters':
One autumn evening in 1943 in a small room in the ghetto where Ratner's family was living, Ida Shateriene patiently waited until the 2-year-old Tamara would fall asleep. There were fence guards on duty who would cooperate and the adept child-smuggler, P. Shateris, was ready to act. Most important, Dr P. Baublys knew that on that very night a child would be left on the porch of his orphanage, which was located just a few streets away from the ghetto. Trustworthy nurses were scheduled to work on this particular night. But Tamara would not go to sleep and the operation was cancelled. All the logistics had to be rearranged and rescheduled for another night. (Binkiene S. (ed), Ir be ginklo kariai, Vilnius, 1967 m., p. 120)
A nurse called Berlovichiene gave me a shot of Luminal, and I fell into a deep sleep, was put into a big suitcase, and Ida carried me out of the ghetto into the night and through the dimly lit streets of Kaunas. She put the case on the porch of the orphanage, rang the bell and waited, hiding in the darkness. It was agreed that the nurse in charge would come to collect me. Several long minutes passed, but nobody appeared. In such a situation every minute lasted an eternity. A lorry with German soldiers passed by; fortunately they did not pay any attention to the parcel on the porch. In desperation Ida decided to take me back to the ghetto, but fortunately the door opened and the nurse collected me. Later Ida learnt that the delay was due to some unexpected guests who were visiting Dr Baublys; they could not take any risks by attending to the child at the door. Dr Baublys could not trust all the members of his staff, but there were at least two nurses, P. Vitonyte and E. Uboriavichiene, who helped him in all his dangerous missions.
Several ghetto children were smuggled out by Ida Shateriene in this way and kept at the orphanage of Dr Baublys; he saved many Jewish lives during the war and was awarded the title of 'Righteous among the Nations' at Yad Vashem; a tree was planted in his memory in the 'Forest of the Righteous'. My father, who was an active member of the ghetto anti-fascist underground organization, was shot during an attempt to join a partisan detachment; it is likely that a Lithuanian lorry driver gave him away.
It was only in Israel that I learnt from my mother's cousin, Dov Alroy (Zeigarnik), who had emigrated to Palestine before the war, that I also had an older sister; she would have been 6 years old when we entered the ghetto. Together with my mother she was sent to Stutthof where they both perished. I do not have any memories of my parents and sister.
Many years later, when I looked for information about my family at Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum, I was astonished to find that my sister's name was Golda-Ruth. Without knowing this, eight years before, we had named our Israeli-born daughter Ruth. Maybe this name had been subconsciously dwelling in my memory.
Ida Shateriene, who managed to escape from the ghetto and join a detachment, knew where some children were being hidden. After the liberation of Lithuania she collected us from Dr Baublys and placed us in the new Jewish Orphanage; I was the youngest child there. They gave me the best bed to sleep in, which had belonged until then to Ruth Ben David, also a Kaunas Ghetto 'hidden child', and the oldest girl there. Naturally she was not happy and from the start Ruth did not like me. But soon her attitude towards me changed and she became my friend and protector. All this I learned at the meeting of children of the Jewish Orphanage held in Israel in the late 1970s, when our former teacher, Malka Pogotsky, a member of Kibbutz Masarik, introduced Ruth to me. Ruth's parents perished and Malka subsequently smuggled her through the Soviet borders and brought her to Israel in 1946.
Dora and Avraham Kadishas, who had known my parents well before the war and did not have children of their own, took me on several occasions from the orphanage to their home. When they were sure I liked it there, they adopted me; that was at the end of 1946.
I only vaguely remember my life in the orphanage and the first visits with the Kadishas family. It was supposed to be a secret that I was not the Kadishas' biological daughter. It was only when I was 18 years old that Professor Liolia Aizinbud told me the names of my real parents, but asked me not to tell my mother that I knew the truth. In fact, from a very early age I had felt that I was not their child; after all, I was nearly 3 years old when I was smuggled out. I remember that at the age of 10, after an intensive search in our house, I found a document saying I was adopted, but I said nothing and just went on pretending.
My adoptive father, Avraham Kadishas, was an engineer and a very intelligent and highly educated, warm, kind and distinctive person. He died from a heart attack when he was only in his fifties; I loved him very much. My mother, Dora Kadishiene, was regarded as a very good paediatrician. She worked mainly from her own office, one of the few who dared to keep a private practice throughout the years of the Soviet regime. I followed in her footsteps, studied medicine and became a paediatrician. My mother Dora passed away when she was about 96 years old, and was strong, retaining her memory almost to the end.
Kfar Saba, Israel, 2009
Tamara Kadishaite-Ratner-Levy
From: Solomon Abramovich and Yakov Zilberg “Smuggled in Potato Sacks”, 2011
Until I found my birth certificate in the Kaunas archives, I did not know when exactly I had been born. I believed it was in the ghetto, but I learnt that I was actually born in January 1941, not actually before the war. My father, Shimon Ratner, was a building engineer contractor, a partner of Bagriansky in a small private firm. My mother Judesa, née Zeigarnik, worked as a kindergarten teacher.
So I was just a baby when my parents were forced into the ghetto. Ida Shateriene was a liaison officer whose duty was to keep contact with Gentiles who were willing to help save Jewish children. V. Zubovas mediated between the ghetto underground and Dr Baublys, the director of an orphanage in Vilijampole. It was agreed that Jewish children would be brought there one by one and left as if they had been abandoned. This 'joint venture' was extremely dangerous for both sides.
The story of how I was smuggled out of Kaunas Ghetto is described in the book 'Ir be ginklo kariai' which means 'Unarmed Fighters':
One autumn evening in 1943 in a small room in the ghetto where Ratner's family was living, Ida Shateriene patiently waited until the 2-year-old Tamara would fall asleep. There were fence guards on duty who would cooperate and the adept child-smuggler, P. Shateris, was ready to act. Most important, Dr P. Baublys knew that on that very night a child would be left on the porch of his orphanage, which was located just a few streets away from the ghetto. Trustworthy nurses were scheduled to work on this particular night. But Tamara would not go to sleep and the operation was cancelled. All the logistics had to be rearranged and rescheduled for another night. (Binkiene S. (ed), Ir be ginklo kariai, Vilnius, 1967 m., p. 120)
A nurse called Berlovichiene gave me a shot of Luminal, and I fell into a deep sleep, was put into a big suitcase, and Ida carried me out of the ghetto into the night and through the dimly lit streets of Kaunas. She put the case on the porch of the orphanage, rang the bell and waited, hiding in the darkness. It was agreed that the nurse in charge would come to collect me. Several long minutes passed, but nobody appeared. In such a situation every minute lasted an eternity. A lorry with German soldiers passed by; fortunately they did not pay any attention to the parcel on the porch. In desperation Ida decided to take me back to the ghetto, but fortunately the door opened and the nurse collected me. Later Ida learnt that the delay was due to some unexpected guests who were visiting Dr Baublys; they could not take any risks by attending to the child at the door. Dr Baublys could not trust all the members of his staff, but there were at least two nurses, P. Vitonyte and E. Uboriavichiene, who helped him in all his dangerous missions.
Several ghetto children were smuggled out by Ida Shateriene in this way and kept at the orphanage of Dr Baublys; he saved many Jewish lives during the war and was awarded the title of 'Righteous among the Nations' at Yad Vashem; a tree was planted in his memory in the 'Forest of the Righteous'. My father, who was an active member of the ghetto anti-fascist underground organization, was shot during an attempt to join a partisan detachment; it is likely that a Lithuanian lorry driver gave him away.
It was only in Israel that I learnt from my mother's cousin, Dov Alroy (Zeigarnik), who had emigrated to Palestine before the war, that I also had an older sister; she would have been 6 years old when we entered the ghetto. Together with my mother she was sent to Stutthof where they both perished. I do not have any memories of my parents and sister.
Many years later, when I looked for information about my family at Yad Vashem Holocaust Museum, I was astonished to find that my sister's name was Golda-Ruth. Without knowing this, eight years before, we had named our Israeli-born daughter Ruth. Maybe this name had been subconsciously dwelling in my memory.
Ida Shateriene, who managed to escape from the ghetto and join a detachment, knew where some children were being hidden. After the liberation of Lithuania she collected us from Dr Baublys and placed us in the new Jewish Orphanage; I was the youngest child there. They gave me the best bed to sleep in, which had belonged until then to Ruth Ben David, also a Kaunas Ghetto 'hidden child', and the oldest girl there. Naturally she was not happy and from the start Ruth did not like me. But soon her attitude towards me changed and she became my friend and protector. All this I learned at the meeting of children of the Jewish Orphanage held in Israel in the late 1970s, when our former teacher, Malka Pogotsky, a member of Kibbutz Masarik, introduced Ruth to me. Ruth's parents perished and Malka subsequently smuggled her through the Soviet borders and brought her to Israel in 1946.
Dora and Avraham Kadishas, who had known my parents well before the war and did not have children of their own, took me on several occasions from the orphanage to their home. When they were sure I liked it there, they adopted me; that was at the end of 1946.
I only vaguely remember my life in the orphanage and the first visits with the Kadishas family. It was supposed to be a secret that I was not the Kadishas' biological daughter. It was only when I was 18 years old that Professor Liolia Aizinbud told me the names of my real parents, but asked me not to tell my mother that I knew the truth. In fact, from a very early age I had felt that I was not their child; after all, I was nearly 3 years old when I was smuggled out. I remember that at the age of 10, after an intensive search in our house, I found a document saying I was adopted, but I said nothing and just went on pretending.
My adoptive father, Avraham Kadishas, was an engineer and a very intelligent and highly educated, warm, kind and distinctive person. He died from a heart attack when he was only in his fifties; I loved him very much. My mother, Dora Kadishiene, was regarded as a very good paediatrician. She worked mainly from her own office, one of the few who dared to keep a private practice throughout the years of the Soviet regime. I followed in her footsteps, studied medicine and became a paediatrician. My mother Dora passed away when she was about 96 years old, and was strong, retaining her memory almost to the end.
Kfar Saba, Israel, 2009