rescuers of jews
Plokšto Vladislav (Vladislovas)
Galina Vyšniauskienė – Eleonora Grinberg
I can tell about the years 1941-1945 only what I know from the narratives told by my foster-mother, Urshula Plokshto, and my nanny, Veronika Tunevitch, because at the beginning of the war I was only one-and-a-half-years old.
Before the war my parents Israel and Maria Grinberg (in her certificate of birth she was Malke Gitle Shpinak) lived in Poland, Warsaw. My father was engaged in the wood trade, and had a weaving factor). In September of 1939, when Hitler's fascist attacked Poland, my parents fled to Vilnius and lived at 15 Aguonų Street. I was born there on 1 January 1940.
In the summer of 1941 my mother Maria, the nanny and I were having a rest at the house of my mother's sister in Naugardukas (Belarus). The husband of my mother's sister was the head physician at Naugardukas hospital. He had a little son. When the war broke out we were in Belarus, and my father was in Vilnius. For fear of my life my mother gave me to my nanny, Veronika. She wanted to give her the boy too, but that was impossible because the Germans would have recognised us at once. My nanny took me away to Vilnius. She walked about one hundred kilometres carrying me on her back. Sometimes she stopped the carts passing by. The bloody corns and blisters did not heal on her feet for a long time.
When my parents returned to Vilnius, we all went into the Vilnius Ghetto. After that all traces of them were lost. My nanny, V. Tunevitch, rescued me from the ghetto and I found myself in the family of Ursula and Vladislav Plokshto. They lived at 8 Blindžių Street in Žvėrynas. This was at the end of December 1941. Some time later my nurse was taken away to Germany for forced labour. She was taken to Frankfurt am Main. There were two sons - Richard and Tadeush - in the Plokshto family, and at the end of 1944 another son Vladimir was born. All the members of the Plokshto family knew the truth about how I happened to be in their family but they never reproached me for that. During the time of the German occupation, the Plokshto family hid me till June of 1944. They constantly felt fear for both my life and their lives. The fact that I had no food ration coupon and all the members of the Plokshto family had to share each morsel of bread with me, made the situation in the family harder. The family lived very poorly, because due to lack of employment, Vladislav could work only two days per week. To survive somehow, Ursula kept a goat, hens, and some rabbits.
The neighbours knew nothing about me. After the war my foster-parents hoped that my parents would appear. However, when they did not, they adopted me officially on 10 May 1946 and gave me their surname Plokshto, and the name Galina. In 1965 my foster father died. My foster mother grieved very much; perhaps this was why she told me this story for the first time in 1967. I then began to persistently look for my nanny, V. Tunevitch, and I succeeded in finding her in Poland in the town of Skubitz. Having gone through the German concentration camps, she was very ill and was half-paralysed. I learned from her a lot about my real parents, the Grinbergs. She described what they looked like to me - I did not remember them and there were no photographs left. From her description, I could imagine what they looked like. I learned the story of my life from her because not only did she look after me but she also rescued me. During those decades I visited her many times, and her daugh-ter Teresa used to visit me. In 1977, Veronika died of a stroke.
I looked for my parents for a very long time through the Red Cross of Poland and through the Red Cross of Geneva, and through the newspaper Litovskij Jerusalim; I also tried to find my mother's relatives who lived in Naugardukas through the Red Cross of Belarus. Unfortunately, with no success. Perhaps both my parents and my relatives had been killed. The Red Cross of Belarus answered that all the archives had been burned down and they could trace none of my relatives.
In 1993 Ursula Plokshto and her husband Vladislav were awarded posthumously the Cross for Saving People under Threat of Death. In 1994, the Yad Vashem Holocaust Institute honoured them with the title of Righteous Gentile. In 1995 the title of Righteous Gentile was also conferred on my nanny, Veronika Tunevitch.
Vilnius, 2001
From With a Needle in the Heart. Memoirs of Former Prisoners of Ghettos and Concentration Camps. Genocide and Resistance Research centre of Lithuania. Vilnius. 2003
I can tell about the years 1941-1945 only what I know from the narratives told by my foster-mother, Urshula Plokshto, and my nanny, Veronika Tunevitch, because at the beginning of the war I was only one-and-a-half-years old.
Before the war my parents Israel and Maria Grinberg (in her certificate of birth she was Malke Gitle Shpinak) lived in Poland, Warsaw. My father was engaged in the wood trade, and had a weaving factor). In September of 1939, when Hitler's fascist attacked Poland, my parents fled to Vilnius and lived at 15 Aguonų Street. I was born there on 1 January 1940.
In the summer of 1941 my mother Maria, the nanny and I were having a rest at the house of my mother's sister in Naugardukas (Belarus). The husband of my mother's sister was the head physician at Naugardukas hospital. He had a little son. When the war broke out we were in Belarus, and my father was in Vilnius. For fear of my life my mother gave me to my nanny, Veronika. She wanted to give her the boy too, but that was impossible because the Germans would have recognised us at once. My nanny took me away to Vilnius. She walked about one hundred kilometres carrying me on her back. Sometimes she stopped the carts passing by. The bloody corns and blisters did not heal on her feet for a long time.
When my parents returned to Vilnius, we all went into the Vilnius Ghetto. After that all traces of them were lost. My nanny, V. Tunevitch, rescued me from the ghetto and I found myself in the family of Ursula and Vladislav Plokshto. They lived at 8 Blindžių Street in Žvėrynas. This was at the end of December 1941. Some time later my nurse was taken away to Germany for forced labour. She was taken to Frankfurt am Main. There were two sons - Richard and Tadeush - in the Plokshto family, and at the end of 1944 another son Vladimir was born. All the members of the Plokshto family knew the truth about how I happened to be in their family but they never reproached me for that. During the time of the German occupation, the Plokshto family hid me till June of 1944. They constantly felt fear for both my life and their lives. The fact that I had no food ration coupon and all the members of the Plokshto family had to share each morsel of bread with me, made the situation in the family harder. The family lived very poorly, because due to lack of employment, Vladislav could work only two days per week. To survive somehow, Ursula kept a goat, hens, and some rabbits.
The neighbours knew nothing about me. After the war my foster-parents hoped that my parents would appear. However, when they did not, they adopted me officially on 10 May 1946 and gave me their surname Plokshto, and the name Galina. In 1965 my foster father died. My foster mother grieved very much; perhaps this was why she told me this story for the first time in 1967. I then began to persistently look for my nanny, V. Tunevitch, and I succeeded in finding her in Poland in the town of Skubitz. Having gone through the German concentration camps, she was very ill and was half-paralysed. I learned from her a lot about my real parents, the Grinbergs. She described what they looked like to me - I did not remember them and there were no photographs left. From her description, I could imagine what they looked like. I learned the story of my life from her because not only did she look after me but she also rescued me. During those decades I visited her many times, and her daugh-ter Teresa used to visit me. In 1977, Veronika died of a stroke.
I looked for my parents for a very long time through the Red Cross of Poland and through the Red Cross of Geneva, and through the newspaper Litovskij Jerusalim; I also tried to find my mother's relatives who lived in Naugardukas through the Red Cross of Belarus. Unfortunately, with no success. Perhaps both my parents and my relatives had been killed. The Red Cross of Belarus answered that all the archives had been burned down and they could trace none of my relatives.
In 1993 Ursula Plokshto and her husband Vladislav were awarded posthumously the Cross for Saving People under Threat of Death. In 1994, the Yad Vashem Holocaust Institute honoured them with the title of Righteous Gentile. In 1995 the title of Righteous Gentile was also conferred on my nanny, Veronika Tunevitch.
Vilnius, 2001
From With a Needle in the Heart. Memoirs of Former Prisoners of Ghettos and Concentration Camps. Genocide and Resistance Research centre of Lithuania. Vilnius. 2003