Rescued Jewish Children
From Tikva’s (Teklytė’s) letter to Bronė and Adomas Gecevičius
I hope that this letter reaches you finds you well.
First let me say who I am. My name is Tikva, and I was that little girl whom you had taken from Kaunas Ghetto in 1943 May. I remember well living at your home however I have only indistinct memories of your faces. I often recollect an image of your house, how I used to play with two little girls. For the series of years from time to time I thought about how did you live and that it would be great pleasure to get some news or a letter from you. <...>
My aunt recounted me all the story how you risked your lives taking me at your home. Now, when I am grown up, I understand your self-sacrifice and marvel at your kindness. How can one repay for saving one’s life? It’s a great deed. There are no words to express my feelings. The words are powerless here. I just want to tell you that I think of you for years. <...>
Testimony of Tikva Jeral
On July 21, 1941, I was born in the Jewish Hospital in Kovno. In fact, I am told that I was the last Jewish child to be permitted to be born in that hospital before they closed down their maternity function. My mother had to pound on the door before the staff would let her in and to scream bloody murder before the doctors would agree to help her with the birth. Nazi rules were clear and all were frightened if they disobeyed. Right after my birth I had turned blue and the doctors were quite ready to let me die. However, my mother and father would not hear of such a thing and demanded that I be saved. This they accomplished. Within three days of leaving the hospital our small family was forced into the ghetto. The quarters were small and overcrowded and, increasingly, the circumstances of all families worsened. Some two and a half years later (and it is unimaginable to think about how anyone survived until then) the infamous Children’s Action took place. All of the Jewish children were rounded up and killed by the Nazis. There was, at least, one exception to that as my parents hid me in the basement bunker they had built. They drugged me with some kind of medicine when they were at forced labour. This secret choice was necessary since other families, in their grief at losing their own children, would have found it unbearable to know that a child had been saved and they could not have been trusted to keep things quiet.
I regressed, forgetting how to walk, and, continually, lost weight. My parents realized that I would soon die unless they could find a way to change the circumstances. My father, through his work assignment, noticed a young Lithuanian-Catholic woman, a mother of two young daughters – Vitalija, 4, and Ligija, 1. He was impressed with her seeming gentleness and he took a major risk and asked her to save me. The woman was shocked, said she could not risk the lives of her family, and left. When she returned home, she told her husband, Adomas, what had happened. He stunned her by telling her that they had to save this Jewish child, especially because of how she, Bronė, was saved by villagers when her parents migrated to America but left her behind. This, thought Adomas, was Bronė’s moment to pay back for how she had been saved as a child.
They, then agreed, to take me from the ghetto at 9:30PM the following evening. They found a way to communicate this to my father, Joseph Chlomovitch, and, my mother, Ossia Chlomovitch, and her brother, Aaron, and cousin, Chaim, wrapped me in an old potato sack and drugged and smuggled me under the barbed-wire fence. The guard was bribed with a sack full of money they had secreted away. This was in August of 1943. Bronė and Adomas Gecevičius took me to stay, in the country, with Bronė’s aunt, while they found a new apartment and maid so they would not be detected. They told people that Ligutia, the younger child, and I were twins and were able to get away with the ruse. My mother and father did not fare so well. On the day of Liberation, as the Nazis were retreating, following a scorched earth policy, my parents hid in the basement bunker with almost 100 others. Whether by chance or having been told by an informer, the Nazis threw grenades into the bunker and killed all of the Jews within. They had almost survived the entire ordeal. This was in late July of 1944.
After the war, my Aunt Nechama, (now living in Ramat Gan, Israel), came to retrieve me from Adomas and Bronė. She discovered my existence by accident, through one of the re-unification agencies which sprung up after the war. I had been raised as a Catholic little girl and I understand that it was terribly difficult for me to learn that I was Jewish and did not belong to the Gecevičienė family.
We, then, began the long trek toward Israel where we arrived in 1947. We had spent two years in a German D.P. camp before that. In 1953 my Aunt and Uncle sent me to live with cousins in Philadelphia where I was, eventually, adopted. I remained in America, married in 1965 and have two adult sons.
Bronė and Adomas Gecevičius were recognized as Righteous Among the Nations in Yad Vashem. This claim is being made on behalf of my parents and myself.
I hope that this letter reaches you finds you well.
First let me say who I am. My name is Tikva, and I was that little girl whom you had taken from Kaunas Ghetto in 1943 May. I remember well living at your home however I have only indistinct memories of your faces. I often recollect an image of your house, how I used to play with two little girls. For the series of years from time to time I thought about how did you live and that it would be great pleasure to get some news or a letter from you. <...>
My aunt recounted me all the story how you risked your lives taking me at your home. Now, when I am grown up, I understand your self-sacrifice and marvel at your kindness. How can one repay for saving one’s life? It’s a great deed. There are no words to express my feelings. The words are powerless here. I just want to tell you that I think of you for years. <...>
Testimony of Tikva Jeral
On July 21, 1941, I was born in the Jewish Hospital in Kovno. In fact, I am told that I was the last Jewish child to be permitted to be born in that hospital before they closed down their maternity function. My mother had to pound on the door before the staff would let her in and to scream bloody murder before the doctors would agree to help her with the birth. Nazi rules were clear and all were frightened if they disobeyed. Right after my birth I had turned blue and the doctors were quite ready to let me die. However, my mother and father would not hear of such a thing and demanded that I be saved. This they accomplished. Within three days of leaving the hospital our small family was forced into the ghetto. The quarters were small and overcrowded and, increasingly, the circumstances of all families worsened. Some two and a half years later (and it is unimaginable to think about how anyone survived until then) the infamous Children’s Action took place. All of the Jewish children were rounded up and killed by the Nazis. There was, at least, one exception to that as my parents hid me in the basement bunker they had built. They drugged me with some kind of medicine when they were at forced labour. This secret choice was necessary since other families, in their grief at losing their own children, would have found it unbearable to know that a child had been saved and they could not have been trusted to keep things quiet.
I regressed, forgetting how to walk, and, continually, lost weight. My parents realized that I would soon die unless they could find a way to change the circumstances. My father, through his work assignment, noticed a young Lithuanian-Catholic woman, a mother of two young daughters – Vitalija, 4, and Ligija, 1. He was impressed with her seeming gentleness and he took a major risk and asked her to save me. The woman was shocked, said she could not risk the lives of her family, and left. When she returned home, she told her husband, Adomas, what had happened. He stunned her by telling her that they had to save this Jewish child, especially because of how she, Bronė, was saved by villagers when her parents migrated to America but left her behind. This, thought Adomas, was Bronė’s moment to pay back for how she had been saved as a child.
They, then agreed, to take me from the ghetto at 9:30PM the following evening. They found a way to communicate this to my father, Joseph Chlomovitch, and, my mother, Ossia Chlomovitch, and her brother, Aaron, and cousin, Chaim, wrapped me in an old potato sack and drugged and smuggled me under the barbed-wire fence. The guard was bribed with a sack full of money they had secreted away. This was in August of 1943. Bronė and Adomas Gecevičius took me to stay, in the country, with Bronė’s aunt, while they found a new apartment and maid so they would not be detected. They told people that Ligutia, the younger child, and I were twins and were able to get away with the ruse. My mother and father did not fare so well. On the day of Liberation, as the Nazis were retreating, following a scorched earth policy, my parents hid in the basement bunker with almost 100 others. Whether by chance or having been told by an informer, the Nazis threw grenades into the bunker and killed all of the Jews within. They had almost survived the entire ordeal. This was in late July of 1944.
After the war, my Aunt Nechama, (now living in Ramat Gan, Israel), came to retrieve me from Adomas and Bronė. She discovered my existence by accident, through one of the re-unification agencies which sprung up after the war. I had been raised as a Catholic little girl and I understand that it was terribly difficult for me to learn that I was Jewish and did not belong to the Gecevičienė family.
We, then, began the long trek toward Israel where we arrived in 1947. We had spent two years in a German D.P. camp before that. In 1953 my Aunt and Uncle sent me to live with cousins in Philadelphia where I was, eventually, adopted. I remained in America, married in 1965 and have two adult sons.
Bronė and Adomas Gecevičius were recognized as Righteous Among the Nations in Yad Vashem. This claim is being made on behalf of my parents and myself.