rescuers of jews
Chlopinaitė Elena
The Horror of the ‘Big Action’
Rieta Volpert-Lesokhin
From Smuggled in Potato Sacks
Fifty Stories of the Hidden Children of the Kaunas Ghetto
Editors
Solomon Abramovich
and Yakov Zilberg
I was born on 6 December 1934. My father, David Volpert, was a well-known lawyer. My mother, Ida Gurvich-Volpert, was a famous pianist; they were both very busy people. Father spent most of his time in the courts or in his prosperous private practice and my mother in the conservatorium or at concerts. I remember my father used to eat his lunch hastily, causing my mother much discontent. On the rare occasions when he was free, he would take me for a walk, which I liked very much. Mother was a lovely woman: warm, happy and intelligent, always surrounded by many friends.
I spent most of my time with my nanny, Elena Grigorievna Chlopina (Chlopinaite). She had graduated from the ‘Institute for Respectable Young Ladies’ in St Petersburg, where highly qualified governesses were trained. She came when I was 2 months old and stayed with me for years.
When I grew up, a French lady from Paris was invited to live with us. Since then I speak French fluently. In our family my parents usually spoke in German; Father’s brothers and sisters lived in Germany and my mother graduated from the Berlin Conservatorium. We all spoke Russian and Lithuanian fluently as well. At the age of 5 I started to take piano classes and was very successful in them.
`I did not attend regular school, I was educated at home. I was quite a pampered child, and got everything one can imagine. We lived on Laisves Avenue in a large beautiful apartment. We were a secular Jewish family, but we did celebrate Passover, and we also marked Yom Kippur.
I remember playing in the garden and suddenly there was a lot of noise from Laisves Avenue. We ran to look. There was an enormous commotion. Tanks rolled into the avenue with Russian soldiers smiling atop of them. People in the crowd, among them numerous Lithuanians, on both sides of the avenue were cheering, applauding and throwing flowers.
Soon supplies were running out in the shops and the Soviets started the deportation of the ‘bourgeois’ to Siberia. I remember one evening a van stopped outside the entrance to our building and all our neighbour’s family were led away one by one. My parents were very much afraid that we would be sent to exile as well.
I remember how the war started and the first sounds of bombardment, and how anxious my parents were when the telephone connection was cut. Our good friend, Dr Dugovsky, tried to reach us in order to take our family and run away, but he could not get in touch. So we stayed in occupied Kaunas.
The first days of the war, when the Russians had left and the Germans had not yet come, were the most terrifying. The Lithuanians robbed, raped and pillaged the Jews in great numbers. Father’s friend, Professor Tumenas, took our family to his house in order to save us from the rage of these wild mobs; we spent a couple of weeks there. Later when the Germans had restored some order, we returned for a short stay in our apartment.
I remember how we went to the ghetto. My parents put a few things on a carriage and we moved to a nice house in Slobodka in the area called the ‘Large Ghetto’. At the beginning we lived alone, three of us in a very big room. I liked this house and the room and thought we had moved, as we usually did during the summer time, to a dacha. Moreover, this time we were all together, not as in previous years when it had only been my nanny and me. Later my uncle Misha Volpert with his wife Mira and their 6-year-old twins, Lionia and Zenia, came to live in our room.
Life in the ghetto was really quite a shock for my parents, who had lived in luxury just several months before. My parents joined the work brigades and used to bring back some food. I stayed at home alone and was happy to play freely with lots of other children on the streets of the ghetto; I even used to smuggle some food from our family and share it with other poor children.
One night my father was arrested by a Lithuanian policeman. He disappeared for a few days; when he returned he was dirty, skinny and unshaven. He had been caught up in the so-called ‘Intellectuals’ Action’, when about 500 educated men were rounded up to perform ‘professional work’. In fact they were taken to the Ninth Fort and ordered to dig a huge pit. They all understood they were digging their own grave. While they were digging, a Lithuanian man approached my father, it seems he had been his client, and ordered him to run away. And my father took this chance. Apparently only my father and Dr Voshchin escaped this round-up alive.
The ghetto orchestra was organized, and my uncle Izia Rosenblum who was a most talented violinist, joined it; he used to take me to concerts. Later Izia and his 14-year-old son Liolik Rosenblum died in Dachau concentration camp.
And then I remember the horror of the ‘Great Action’. We were woken up at five in the morning. The Germans were driving on the streets announcing by megaphones, ‘Attention, attention! Everybody stay at home. Anybody who will appear on the streets will be shot!’ The Germans and the Lithuanian policemen started systematically taking people out of their homes and leading them to Democracy Square. It was so cold and so horrifying to stand there in the square. I was so afraid of the big dogs barking at us. We stood there from the early morning till evening, and eventually during the ‘selection’, we were sent to the right-hand line. Misha Kopelman, who was Mother’s former classmate, was now head of the Jewish police. When he saw us, he led our family to the left side in exchange for another family, which he moved to the right.
The people in the right-hand line spent the night in the location where the so-called ‘Small Ghetto’ had been before its liquidation. The next day they were led to the Ninth Fort and shot. Most of our relatives from Mother’s side perished in the ‘Great Action’. I remember the sorrow of my parents when they returned from Democracy Square; many people from our circle had disappeared.
My parents invited the Finkelshtein family, who did not have a place to live, to move into our flat. We now numbered eleven people in our room. A garden was allocated to all the tenants of our building; in our small plot my father grew tomatoes. This was the only source of vitamins in our meals. Since then I hate tomatoes. I noticed that the adult men surrounding me, including my father, would disappear in the evenings. I learnt later that they were digging a refuge ( ‘malina’) where we would hide at the next ‘action’.
Father’s old clients would come to see him to take legal advice. They tried to persuade my father to escape from the ghetto, but he refused to leave us. Gradually we had less and less food. I still remember how much I liked dishes made from potato peelings.
My pre-war governess Elena started to bring us food to the ghetto fence. Once she was caught by the German guards and warned that the next time she would be imprisoned. But she went on helping our family. At that time she worked as a housekeeper for two German officers; she lived in a small room in their apartment. It was agreed she would take me to live with her. The German guard was bribed. I clearly remember him turning his back on us while I slipped under the fence. A Lithuanian woman, who lived near the fence, used to lead smuggled children to their destination. It was she who took me to Elena.
Rieta Volpert-Lesokhin
From Smuggled in Potato Sacks
Fifty Stories of the Hidden Children of the Kaunas Ghetto
Editors
Solomon Abramovich
and Yakov Zilberg
I was born on 6 December 1934. My father, David Volpert, was a well-known lawyer. My mother, Ida Gurvich-Volpert, was a famous pianist; they were both very busy people. Father spent most of his time in the courts or in his prosperous private practice and my mother in the conservatorium or at concerts. I remember my father used to eat his lunch hastily, causing my mother much discontent. On the rare occasions when he was free, he would take me for a walk, which I liked very much. Mother was a lovely woman: warm, happy and intelligent, always surrounded by many friends.
I spent most of my time with my nanny, Elena Grigorievna Chlopina (Chlopinaite). She had graduated from the ‘Institute for Respectable Young Ladies’ in St Petersburg, where highly qualified governesses were trained. She came when I was 2 months old and stayed with me for years.
When I grew up, a French lady from Paris was invited to live with us. Since then I speak French fluently. In our family my parents usually spoke in German; Father’s brothers and sisters lived in Germany and my mother graduated from the Berlin Conservatorium. We all spoke Russian and Lithuanian fluently as well. At the age of 5 I started to take piano classes and was very successful in them.
`I did not attend regular school, I was educated at home. I was quite a pampered child, and got everything one can imagine. We lived on Laisves Avenue in a large beautiful apartment. We were a secular Jewish family, but we did celebrate Passover, and we also marked Yom Kippur.
I remember playing in the garden and suddenly there was a lot of noise from Laisves Avenue. We ran to look. There was an enormous commotion. Tanks rolled into the avenue with Russian soldiers smiling atop of them. People in the crowd, among them numerous Lithuanians, on both sides of the avenue were cheering, applauding and throwing flowers.
Soon supplies were running out in the shops and the Soviets started the deportation of the ‘bourgeois’ to Siberia. I remember one evening a van stopped outside the entrance to our building and all our neighbour’s family were led away one by one. My parents were very much afraid that we would be sent to exile as well.
I remember how the war started and the first sounds of bombardment, and how anxious my parents were when the telephone connection was cut. Our good friend, Dr Dugovsky, tried to reach us in order to take our family and run away, but he could not get in touch. So we stayed in occupied Kaunas.
The first days of the war, when the Russians had left and the Germans had not yet come, were the most terrifying. The Lithuanians robbed, raped and pillaged the Jews in great numbers. Father’s friend, Professor Tumenas, took our family to his house in order to save us from the rage of these wild mobs; we spent a couple of weeks there. Later when the Germans had restored some order, we returned for a short stay in our apartment.
I remember how we went to the ghetto. My parents put a few things on a carriage and we moved to a nice house in Slobodka in the area called the ‘Large Ghetto’. At the beginning we lived alone, three of us in a very big room. I liked this house and the room and thought we had moved, as we usually did during the summer time, to a dacha. Moreover, this time we were all together, not as in previous years when it had only been my nanny and me. Later my uncle Misha Volpert with his wife Mira and their 6-year-old twins, Lionia and Zenia, came to live in our room.
Life in the ghetto was really quite a shock for my parents, who had lived in luxury just several months before. My parents joined the work brigades and used to bring back some food. I stayed at home alone and was happy to play freely with lots of other children on the streets of the ghetto; I even used to smuggle some food from our family and share it with other poor children.
One night my father was arrested by a Lithuanian policeman. He disappeared for a few days; when he returned he was dirty, skinny and unshaven. He had been caught up in the so-called ‘Intellectuals’ Action’, when about 500 educated men were rounded up to perform ‘professional work’. In fact they were taken to the Ninth Fort and ordered to dig a huge pit. They all understood they were digging their own grave. While they were digging, a Lithuanian man approached my father, it seems he had been his client, and ordered him to run away. And my father took this chance. Apparently only my father and Dr Voshchin escaped this round-up alive.
The ghetto orchestra was organized, and my uncle Izia Rosenblum who was a most talented violinist, joined it; he used to take me to concerts. Later Izia and his 14-year-old son Liolik Rosenblum died in Dachau concentration camp.
And then I remember the horror of the ‘Great Action’. We were woken up at five in the morning. The Germans were driving on the streets announcing by megaphones, ‘Attention, attention! Everybody stay at home. Anybody who will appear on the streets will be shot!’ The Germans and the Lithuanian policemen started systematically taking people out of their homes and leading them to Democracy Square. It was so cold and so horrifying to stand there in the square. I was so afraid of the big dogs barking at us. We stood there from the early morning till evening, and eventually during the ‘selection’, we were sent to the right-hand line. Misha Kopelman, who was Mother’s former classmate, was now head of the Jewish police. When he saw us, he led our family to the left side in exchange for another family, which he moved to the right.
The people in the right-hand line spent the night in the location where the so-called ‘Small Ghetto’ had been before its liquidation. The next day they were led to the Ninth Fort and shot. Most of our relatives from Mother’s side perished in the ‘Great Action’. I remember the sorrow of my parents when they returned from Democracy Square; many people from our circle had disappeared.
My parents invited the Finkelshtein family, who did not have a place to live, to move into our flat. We now numbered eleven people in our room. A garden was allocated to all the tenants of our building; in our small plot my father grew tomatoes. This was the only source of vitamins in our meals. Since then I hate tomatoes. I noticed that the adult men surrounding me, including my father, would disappear in the evenings. I learnt later that they were digging a refuge ( ‘malina’) where we would hide at the next ‘action’.
Father’s old clients would come to see him to take legal advice. They tried to persuade my father to escape from the ghetto, but he refused to leave us. Gradually we had less and less food. I still remember how much I liked dishes made from potato peelings.
My pre-war governess Elena started to bring us food to the ghetto fence. Once she was caught by the German guards and warned that the next time she would be imprisoned. But she went on helping our family. At that time she worked as a housekeeper for two German officers; she lived in a small room in their apartment. It was agreed she would take me to live with her. The German guard was bribed. I clearly remember him turning his back on us while I slipped under the fence. A Lithuanian woman, who lived near the fence, used to lead smuggled children to their destination. It was she who took me to Elena.
I was 8 when I was separated from my parents. Elena told the officers I was her niece. The German officers’ names were Hantz Hart and Shtekman; I remember Hitler’s portrait hanging in their guest room. The Germans treated me very well, especially Hart who was a very intelligent and pleasant person. I played the piano and spoke fluent French with him so he very early suspected I was Jewish. He persistently asked Elena if I was a Jewish girl. Yes, was her reply. After that Hart treated me even better. At some point he suggested taking me to Hanover in Germany to his family.
Soon after, Hart was transferred to serve in Latvia. We stayed with Shtekman. When he found out who I was, he gave Elena two weeks to find another shelter for me. She found a woman who agreed to keep me for payment, but not until certain arrangements were made.
In the meantime, Elena took me back to the ghetto, until false papers in the name of Danute Kazlauskaite were prepared. That was when the ‘Children’s Action’ took place. We went to the cellar, where behind the cupboard door was a secret room. Now I understood why my father had so often disappeared in the evenings: he and other men were digging a shelter for us. During those two terrible days we stayed in this room: my parents were with me, and Dr Perchikovitz’s family with their son Alik.
At one point a woman came in. Without saying a word she left us a crying baby and ran away. The baby cried all the time and in order to quiet him, Dr Perchikovitz had to inject him with morphine. The baby fell asleep, but not for long, so the injections were administered several times. At one point, we heard a Ukrainian policeman outside the door saying ‘There is somebody hiding there’, the cries of the baby may have attracted his attention. Yet somehow we were not discovered. The baby eventually died in the hideout. His mother never came to fetch him.
After the ‘Children’s Action’ it was impossible for children under 12 to appear on the streets of the ghetto; the policemen would capture them and take them away. I was coached to say I was 12, and my birth certificate was changed accordingly.
My aunt Anna (Niuta) Beilinson worked in the ghetto Workshtater, where they made wigs. She took me to work there and organized a certificate proving that I was working there. I made hair for dolls and even earned some food for my work. I remember once a German soldier caught me by my coat collar and shouted, ‘How old are you!?’ ‘Twelve and a half,’ I replied and showed him this certificate. Later Niuta was hidden by Lithuanians. For some reason she decided to change the hiding place and was killed during attempt to move there. After the war, Niuta’s sons, Yakov and Pavel Beilinson, who had served in the Soviet Army, were among a group of Jews who tried to escape from the USSR. It appeared there was a provocateur who led the group into the trap of KGB. Some were shot, and most, including Pavel, were arrested and spent ten years in Siberia. Yakov somehow succeeded in crossing the border to Poland and later he emigrated to the USA.
I was quickly transferred back to my nanny. Shtekman saw me and asked why I was still there. Elena promised to take me straightaway to the small town of Mazeikiai, if Shtekman would help her get permission to move from Kaunas to the province; he provided her with a permit and we left Kaunas. Our journey lasted a few days. We waited for our train in Shauliai where I saw a lot of wounded soldiers being transported, and this made a strong impression on me.
In Mazeikiai we lived with a teacher, a very brave, friendly woman called Evgenia Musteikiene. She had two daughters of her own, Laima and Tamara; everybody treated me very well. While we lived there Elena’s brother was arrested, taken to a jail in Shauliai and shot for rescuing POWs.
Hart visited us several times in Mazeikiai, always bringing food and presents. He still asked Elena to let him take me to Germany. When the front was nearing Mazeikiai and the Russians started bombardment and shelling, we all moved to a village called Krumaichiai. Elena returned to Kaunas. It appeared that Elena also saved the life of my cousin Lionia. However his twin sister, Zenia Volpert, was taken during the ‘Children’s Action’ and their parents perished in the concentration camps.
The German soldiers helped us to dig a shelter, and we hid there during the bombardments. One of the Germans was wounded and somebody in the shelter bandaged him. Suddenly armed Russians appeared and shouted to all of us, ‘Come out with your hands up.’ The children there, including me, started to cry. We were all so frightened, especially after the Russians saw the German soldier among us. At first, they were very angry, believing we were collaborators, but eventually they calmed down, arrested the German and released the rest of us. In 1945 Elena appeared in Krumaichiai and took me to Kaunas. I asked her about my parents and she told me they had been sent to the camps. Elena had witnessed the deportation as my parents were led away from the ghetto. As they left, they managed to point out to Elena the place where they had hidden their money and jewels. Most of the hidden valuables disappeared, but some of it Elena found and used to support us.
When mother’s best friend, Masha Gocaite, returned from Russia she found me and for some time we lived with her in Vilnius. Later my relatives, Sasha and Vera Rosenblum, collected me and I grew up in their house together with my cousin Ela, whom I regard as my sister. Elena became a governess at the house of Antanas Snechkus, the head of the Lithuanian Communist Party.
It was Alik Peretz’s mother who told me that my parents had not survived. Mother was shot in Stutthof and my father, although he was released from Dachau, died on his journey home. A group of released prisoners had found boxes of food. They had been starved and now devoured this food, but their bodies could not take it after such a long period of starvation.
Since I did not go to school before and during the war, there was a huge gap in my education. Although I spoke several languages, I did not know how to read or write. When my cousin, Aleksander (Vava) Rosenbum, a lawyer, came from Russia and began to correspond with me, I could not read his letters. Masha would help me with my schoolwork. Unfortunately Masha became sick and died at a young age. Vava supported me and helped me a lot in my future life.
Eventually I finished high school and the conservatorium in Vilnius and took a Masters degree in the Moscow Conservatorium. After completing my education I was sent to teach in Shauliai. Elena came to live with me.
When I applied for permission to emigrate to Israel, I was called to the KGB and asked, how can I leave Elena, who had devoted her life to me? My answer was, ‘We are going to Israel together’. After several threats and refusals we both received visas and came to Israel. We settled very well here, I started to work as a teacher in the Haifa Conservatorium and I still give piano lessons. In 1980 I married Yuri Lesokhin. Elena lived with me till she passed away at age of about 85. While still alive she had the great honour to be awarded the title of ‘Righteous Among the Nations’.
Haifa, Israel, 2009
First published in 2011 by Vallentine Mitchell
London, Portland, OR
Soon after, Hart was transferred to serve in Latvia. We stayed with Shtekman. When he found out who I was, he gave Elena two weeks to find another shelter for me. She found a woman who agreed to keep me for payment, but not until certain arrangements were made.
In the meantime, Elena took me back to the ghetto, until false papers in the name of Danute Kazlauskaite were prepared. That was when the ‘Children’s Action’ took place. We went to the cellar, where behind the cupboard door was a secret room. Now I understood why my father had so often disappeared in the evenings: he and other men were digging a shelter for us. During those two terrible days we stayed in this room: my parents were with me, and Dr Perchikovitz’s family with their son Alik.
At one point a woman came in. Without saying a word she left us a crying baby and ran away. The baby cried all the time and in order to quiet him, Dr Perchikovitz had to inject him with morphine. The baby fell asleep, but not for long, so the injections were administered several times. At one point, we heard a Ukrainian policeman outside the door saying ‘There is somebody hiding there’, the cries of the baby may have attracted his attention. Yet somehow we were not discovered. The baby eventually died in the hideout. His mother never came to fetch him.
After the ‘Children’s Action’ it was impossible for children under 12 to appear on the streets of the ghetto; the policemen would capture them and take them away. I was coached to say I was 12, and my birth certificate was changed accordingly.
My aunt Anna (Niuta) Beilinson worked in the ghetto Workshtater, where they made wigs. She took me to work there and organized a certificate proving that I was working there. I made hair for dolls and even earned some food for my work. I remember once a German soldier caught me by my coat collar and shouted, ‘How old are you!?’ ‘Twelve and a half,’ I replied and showed him this certificate. Later Niuta was hidden by Lithuanians. For some reason she decided to change the hiding place and was killed during attempt to move there. After the war, Niuta’s sons, Yakov and Pavel Beilinson, who had served in the Soviet Army, were among a group of Jews who tried to escape from the USSR. It appeared there was a provocateur who led the group into the trap of KGB. Some were shot, and most, including Pavel, were arrested and spent ten years in Siberia. Yakov somehow succeeded in crossing the border to Poland and later he emigrated to the USA.
I was quickly transferred back to my nanny. Shtekman saw me and asked why I was still there. Elena promised to take me straightaway to the small town of Mazeikiai, if Shtekman would help her get permission to move from Kaunas to the province; he provided her with a permit and we left Kaunas. Our journey lasted a few days. We waited for our train in Shauliai where I saw a lot of wounded soldiers being transported, and this made a strong impression on me.
In Mazeikiai we lived with a teacher, a very brave, friendly woman called Evgenia Musteikiene. She had two daughters of her own, Laima and Tamara; everybody treated me very well. While we lived there Elena’s brother was arrested, taken to a jail in Shauliai and shot for rescuing POWs.
Hart visited us several times in Mazeikiai, always bringing food and presents. He still asked Elena to let him take me to Germany. When the front was nearing Mazeikiai and the Russians started bombardment and shelling, we all moved to a village called Krumaichiai. Elena returned to Kaunas. It appeared that Elena also saved the life of my cousin Lionia. However his twin sister, Zenia Volpert, was taken during the ‘Children’s Action’ and their parents perished in the concentration camps.
The German soldiers helped us to dig a shelter, and we hid there during the bombardments. One of the Germans was wounded and somebody in the shelter bandaged him. Suddenly armed Russians appeared and shouted to all of us, ‘Come out with your hands up.’ The children there, including me, started to cry. We were all so frightened, especially after the Russians saw the German soldier among us. At first, they were very angry, believing we were collaborators, but eventually they calmed down, arrested the German and released the rest of us. In 1945 Elena appeared in Krumaichiai and took me to Kaunas. I asked her about my parents and she told me they had been sent to the camps. Elena had witnessed the deportation as my parents were led away from the ghetto. As they left, they managed to point out to Elena the place where they had hidden their money and jewels. Most of the hidden valuables disappeared, but some of it Elena found and used to support us.
When mother’s best friend, Masha Gocaite, returned from Russia she found me and for some time we lived with her in Vilnius. Later my relatives, Sasha and Vera Rosenblum, collected me and I grew up in their house together with my cousin Ela, whom I regard as my sister. Elena became a governess at the house of Antanas Snechkus, the head of the Lithuanian Communist Party.
It was Alik Peretz’s mother who told me that my parents had not survived. Mother was shot in Stutthof and my father, although he was released from Dachau, died on his journey home. A group of released prisoners had found boxes of food. They had been starved and now devoured this food, but their bodies could not take it after such a long period of starvation.
Since I did not go to school before and during the war, there was a huge gap in my education. Although I spoke several languages, I did not know how to read or write. When my cousin, Aleksander (Vava) Rosenbum, a lawyer, came from Russia and began to correspond with me, I could not read his letters. Masha would help me with my schoolwork. Unfortunately Masha became sick and died at a young age. Vava supported me and helped me a lot in my future life.
Eventually I finished high school and the conservatorium in Vilnius and took a Masters degree in the Moscow Conservatorium. After completing my education I was sent to teach in Shauliai. Elena came to live with me.
When I applied for permission to emigrate to Israel, I was called to the KGB and asked, how can I leave Elena, who had devoted her life to me? My answer was, ‘We are going to Israel together’. After several threats and refusals we both received visas and came to Israel. We settled very well here, I started to work as a teacher in the Haifa Conservatorium and I still give piano lessons. In 1980 I married Yuri Lesokhin. Elena lived with me till she passed away at age of about 85. While still alive she had the great honour to be awarded the title of ‘Righteous Among the Nations’.
Haifa, Israel, 2009
First published in 2011 by Vallentine Mitchell
London, Portland, OR