Rescued Jewish Children
Escape
From 1941, when I was left alone, until November 1943, I lived in the ghetto with my mother’s parents and her sister’s – my aunt’s – family.
I was thirteen years old when I came to the ghetto. I mostly remember continuous fear, an overwhelming desire to stay alive and torturous hunger. My greatest dream was to one day be able to eat to my heart’s content...
In November 1943, I escaped from the ghetto. The Strimaitis family searched for me and found me in the ghetto. Juozas Strimaitis was an engineer, an officer in the Lithuanian Army, and his wife Ona Bagdonavičiūtė-Strimaitienė – a civil servant and daughter of an organist in Kudirkos Naumiestis. Our families were friends before the war. Ona and Juozas supplied me with the documents of Irena, daughter of Feliksas Treigys, headmaster of Marijampolė gymnasium. They persuaded me to escape from the ghetto, as it would have been perilous to stay there.
I had to come out alone leaving my loved ones behind. This was and incredibly hard thing to do... Those remaining in the ghetto were my grandfather Chielis Shtromas, my aunt Paulina Shtromaite-Ginsburg, her husband and her son Voldemar Ginsburg. My grandmother Chaja had passed away naturally by then and buried in the ghetto cemetery. My family understood very well that we were all doomed to die and they simply forced me to leave. I never saw them again… My grandfather perished in March 1944 during the Children’s Action. A Nazi soldier threw my aunt Paulina Shtromaite-Ginsburg overboard into the Baltic (or perhaps the North) Sea during the Kaunas Ghetto evacuation. She was murdered in place of another “offender” who tried to light up a cigarette. My aunt had stood up for that woman.
The escape was dangerous. In the evening of 7th November 1943, I joined the workers’ brigade going to the city. When we passed the ghetto gates I unpinned my yellow stars and stepped up on to the pavement in Kriščiukaičio Street where the Jews were forbidden to walk. That moment was frightening. I knew very well that had I been noticed, a guard would have shot me on the spot. I tried to behave calmly and not to look around.
Onutė was supposed to be waiting for me on the bridge. However, we were marched out two hours later than anticipated and she was no longer there. I had to cross the city alone. I knew the house where Onutė lived but not the flat number. It chanced that I came upon a keeper. This was dangerous because many keepers were working for the Gestapo. They were the ones that one had to be especially aware of. In all probability my very good Lithuanian language saved me. In the summer we had often visited Kudirkos Naumiestis and I could speak the Suvalkiečių dialect. The caretaker showed me where the Strimaitis family lived. All ended well. However, I wonder if Onutė and Juozas slept a wink that night when I told them that I had encountered the keeper. They had two small children of their own...
The following morning Juozas took me to Vilnius.
From 1941, when I was left alone, until November 1943, I lived in the ghetto with my mother’s parents and her sister’s – my aunt’s – family.
I was thirteen years old when I came to the ghetto. I mostly remember continuous fear, an overwhelming desire to stay alive and torturous hunger. My greatest dream was to one day be able to eat to my heart’s content...
In November 1943, I escaped from the ghetto. The Strimaitis family searched for me and found me in the ghetto. Juozas Strimaitis was an engineer, an officer in the Lithuanian Army, and his wife Ona Bagdonavičiūtė-Strimaitienė – a civil servant and daughter of an organist in Kudirkos Naumiestis. Our families were friends before the war. Ona and Juozas supplied me with the documents of Irena, daughter of Feliksas Treigys, headmaster of Marijampolė gymnasium. They persuaded me to escape from the ghetto, as it would have been perilous to stay there.
I had to come out alone leaving my loved ones behind. This was and incredibly hard thing to do... Those remaining in the ghetto were my grandfather Chielis Shtromas, my aunt Paulina Shtromaite-Ginsburg, her husband and her son Voldemar Ginsburg. My grandmother Chaja had passed away naturally by then and buried in the ghetto cemetery. My family understood very well that we were all doomed to die and they simply forced me to leave. I never saw them again… My grandfather perished in March 1944 during the Children’s Action. A Nazi soldier threw my aunt Paulina Shtromaite-Ginsburg overboard into the Baltic (or perhaps the North) Sea during the Kaunas Ghetto evacuation. She was murdered in place of another “offender” who tried to light up a cigarette. My aunt had stood up for that woman.
The escape was dangerous. In the evening of 7th November 1943, I joined the workers’ brigade going to the city. When we passed the ghetto gates I unpinned my yellow stars and stepped up on to the pavement in Kriščiukaičio Street where the Jews were forbidden to walk. That moment was frightening. I knew very well that had I been noticed, a guard would have shot me on the spot. I tried to behave calmly and not to look around.
Onutė was supposed to be waiting for me on the bridge. However, we were marched out two hours later than anticipated and she was no longer there. I had to cross the city alone. I knew the house where Onutė lived but not the flat number. It chanced that I came upon a keeper. This was dangerous because many keepers were working for the Gestapo. They were the ones that one had to be especially aware of. In all probability my very good Lithuanian language saved me. In the summer we had often visited Kudirkos Naumiestis and I could speak the Suvalkiečių dialect. The caretaker showed me where the Strimaitis family lived. All ended well. However, I wonder if Onutė and Juozas slept a wink that night when I told them that I had encountered the keeper. They had two small children of their own...
The following morning Juozas took me to Vilnius.