Rescued Jewish Children
Judita Zaksteinaite-Vainbergiene
TESTIMONY OF JUDITA ZAKSTEINAITE
My name is Judita Zakštenaitė. I was born in Rokiškis. The horrors of the war began while I was away at Young Pioneer camp in Palanga. When the Nazis came, we—the camp leader and the children—tried to escape, running along the sea shore to Liepoja, but were captured and returned to Palanga. At that time many children from across Lithuania were in Palanga for the Pioneer camps. The Jewish children were placed in the Palanga Ghetto, where the local Jews were being kept; the suffering, horror, fear, and starvation in the ghetto were indescribable.
After the Nazis arrived, The Red Cross began taking the children to orphanage homes; I got into a car and was taken to Panevežys, to the Lithuanian Children’s Orphanage home in the Old City. All of the Jewish children in the Children’s Home were taken by the Nazis, but I remained. I was twelve years old, with blue eyes and blonde hair. The manager of the Orphanage Home and the teacher decided not to give me away to the Germans. Every day I wept and begged them to take me to my mother, and every day they gave me the same answer: “We’ll take you to your mother tomorrow.”
One morning, the teacher woke me up. “Juditele, get up!” he said. “We’re taking you to your mother.” I gathered the few belongings I owned, and silently we left the Orphanage Home. Across the street was Panevežys Church; near the church was a rectory. The teacher and I crossed to the church and entered the rectory, where there waited a man, not tall, with a kind, sincere face. He had tears in his eyes. He took my face in his shaking hands and gently said: “Don’t be afraid, my child. Don’t cry. I will be your father and mother, because you have lost your home.”
This was the priest, the church vicar Antanas Gobis. First he took me to the home of a teacher, Mrs. Vebriene, who sheltered us for some time; then he took me further, by a narrow train. We were riding from Panevežys to Pušalotas; the trip was short, but terrifying. I felt a pain in my heart each time I caught a stranger’s eye. I was shaking with fear, and to keep myself from crying I tried to imagine that the priest was taking me home, that I was going to see my mother and father. The priest, my protector, looked calm, but pale. He knew he could be shot for hiding a Jewish girl.
When we arrived in Pušalotas, Father Gobis took me to the Šapalas family. They were good, kind people, and with them I remained through the years of the war. The Šapalas family was poor, and Father Gobis—my guardian, my protector—sent them money so that they could afford to feed me. He visited often, and was, through those years, my greatest source of comfort and support.
At that time I was known as Terese Mašyte. The Šapalas family didn’t hide me in the cellar or in the loft above the house. I lived freely. But there wasn’t one day of peace in that home. We spent many sleepless nights; terror tortured us every day, every hour and minute. This was a family that hadn’t hesitated to risk their own lives so that they might save a little Jewish girl.
After the war ended, Priest Gobis continued to take care of me. I remained an orphan, having lost my entire family in the war.
Judita Vainbergiene
My name is Judita Zakštenaitė. I was born in Rokiškis. The horrors of the war began while I was away at Young Pioneer camp in Palanga. When the Nazis came, we—the camp leader and the children—tried to escape, running along the sea shore to Liepoja, but were captured and returned to Palanga. At that time many children from across Lithuania were in Palanga for the Pioneer camps. The Jewish children were placed in the Palanga Ghetto, where the local Jews were being kept; the suffering, horror, fear, and starvation in the ghetto were indescribable.
After the Nazis arrived, The Red Cross began taking the children to orphanage homes; I got into a car and was taken to Panevežys, to the Lithuanian Children’s Orphanage home in the Old City. All of the Jewish children in the Children’s Home were taken by the Nazis, but I remained. I was twelve years old, with blue eyes and blonde hair. The manager of the Orphanage Home and the teacher decided not to give me away to the Germans. Every day I wept and begged them to take me to my mother, and every day they gave me the same answer: “We’ll take you to your mother tomorrow.”
One morning, the teacher woke me up. “Juditele, get up!” he said. “We’re taking you to your mother.” I gathered the few belongings I owned, and silently we left the Orphanage Home. Across the street was Panevežys Church; near the church was a rectory. The teacher and I crossed to the church and entered the rectory, where there waited a man, not tall, with a kind, sincere face. He had tears in his eyes. He took my face in his shaking hands and gently said: “Don’t be afraid, my child. Don’t cry. I will be your father and mother, because you have lost your home.”
This was the priest, the church vicar Antanas Gobis. First he took me to the home of a teacher, Mrs. Vebriene, who sheltered us for some time; then he took me further, by a narrow train. We were riding from Panevežys to Pušalotas; the trip was short, but terrifying. I felt a pain in my heart each time I caught a stranger’s eye. I was shaking with fear, and to keep myself from crying I tried to imagine that the priest was taking me home, that I was going to see my mother and father. The priest, my protector, looked calm, but pale. He knew he could be shot for hiding a Jewish girl.
When we arrived in Pušalotas, Father Gobis took me to the Šapalas family. They were good, kind people, and with them I remained through the years of the war. The Šapalas family was poor, and Father Gobis—my guardian, my protector—sent them money so that they could afford to feed me. He visited often, and was, through those years, my greatest source of comfort and support.
At that time I was known as Terese Mašyte. The Šapalas family didn’t hide me in the cellar or in the loft above the house. I lived freely. But there wasn’t one day of peace in that home. We spent many sleepless nights; terror tortured us every day, every hour and minute. This was a family that hadn’t hesitated to risk their own lives so that they might save a little Jewish girl.
After the war ended, Priest Gobis continued to take care of me. I remained an orphan, having lost my entire family in the war.
Judita Vainbergiene