Rescued Jewish Children
Dora Shapira-Nidel
Testimony
Dora Shapira-Nidel
From the 4th book Hands Bringing Life and Bread
I am also writing this testimony on behalf of my brother Josef Shapira (Juozas Šapira). My brother died on 3 February 1992.
Our family lived on the outskirts of Kelmė in the village of Naudvaris in Lithuania. My parents had a mill and 5 hectares of land.
Out father Itzhak Shapira (Icchakas Šapira) worked at the flourmill. Our mother Taibe Zilberg-Shapira (Taibė Zilberg-Šapira) took care of the home. My brother Josef (Juozas) Shapira was 11 years old. I was 8. Mother’s unmarried sister Ana Zilberg also lived with our family.
The German army occupied Kelmė on 24–25 June 1941. Soon after armed local Lithuanians appeared with white bands on their sleeves in Kelmė and the surrounding area. At once they began repressions against Jews. They separated the men from the women and children and locked them in Zundelis Luncas’ barn.
Our father was left to work at the flourmill, because no one else knew how to do his work. Our mother Taibe, and mother’s sister Ana, my brother and me were shut in Shimon Osher’s (Šimonas Ošeris) farm in the village of Mažiūniai (about 3–4 km from Kelmė). The local government turned the farms of Jews into concentration camp-ghettos. After a short time we were taken to another concentration camp-ghetto.
At the same time on August 22nd, during the second and final mass killings of Kelmė Jews, the baltaraiščiai shot my father Itzhak Shapira. They also shot Kelmė Jews in gravel pits about a half kilometre from the Kelmė Manor House.
That same day I along with my mother, aunt Ana Zilberg and cousins managed to escape to Aukšmiškis Forest. Lithuanian farmer Saliamonas’ farmhouse was nearby, and it was to him my aunt Chana Rozenfeld (my mother’s sister) gave all her wealth to. My mother also gave him everything, that she had. For this Saliamonas would give us bread through his son. We hid in Aukšmiškis for 5 weeks.
During the same period our former nanny Stanislava Damanskaitė (who was 51 years old) together with my aunt Chana Rozenfeld’s former house servant Stefanija Kulevičiūtė (who was 42 years old) went into Aukšmiškis Forest to look for us. Without having been asked or encouraged, they wandered barefoot through the rain, looking for us, so they could rescue us from death. After a two-week search Stefanija received a painful wound to her leg and could not go any farther. Alone, Stanislava continued to wander through the forest for a whole week, until she found us.
Stanislava took me, because I was the smallest, and led me to her small room on the edge of Kelmė. Afterwards she went again to Aukšmiškis and brought my brother to her place. Having come the third time, she didn’t find anyone else alive. Someone had complained to the local government, that Jews were hiding in the forest, and policemen had come and shot my mother, my mother’s sister Ana Zilberg and both of my cousins Moshe and Emmanuel Rozenfeld on Saliamonas’ land. Chana Rozenfeld, separated from us, went to look for her children, and was caught and shot by baltaraištis Mykolas Jokubaitis in Kelmė.
My brother and I were almost sure that Saliamonas had complained – afterwards when he had gotten all of my family’s property. If Stanislava had not taken us from the forest, then I along with my brother would have been shot.
My brother and I hid in Stanislava’s small room for about 3 weeks. It was very dangerous, because the neighbours knew us, and we were very afraid, that they would notice us and complain. During the day Stanislava worked, and in her free time looked for places for us to hide in villages. She found Juozas a place in a distant village near Raseiniai near the forest. Juozas milked cows there, hiding himself from the eyes of strangers the whole time. He was often hungry. I, unfortunately, don’t remember either the name of the village or the last name of the owners of the farm house. Juozas hid there for about 2 years. Afterwards Stanislava found him another place close to Kryžkalnis, in the village of Adomaičiai, also near the forest. And unfortunately I also don’t remember the last name of my brother’s rescuers. I only know, that they shared each piece of bread with Juozas. Juozas hid there until the freeing of Kelmė from the Germans, i.e. until the beginning of October 1944. Juozas’ family ties with that family lasted until the very end of his life.
Stanislava took me to Stefanija Kulevičiūtė’s place, where I stayed for about 1 month. Afterwards Stanislava found me a place at sisters Elena and Julija Kaušaitė in the village of Zakeliškiai, about 10 km from Kelmė. It was there I found Ida and Bat-Sheva Krubelnik (Batševa Krubelnikaitė) and also Rivka Mendelevitch hiding there. The Kaušaitė sisters were poor, but they shared their very last piece of bread with us. I hid at their place during the winter of 1942 for about 3 months.
During that same period in spring and summer I was hiding both at Stanislava’s place and Stefanija’s place. I returned for a few weeks at Elena and Julija Kaušaitė’s place. Stefanija had a small room near the Kelmė church. It is in that little room I was hiding. In summer my brother came for a while from the village, and we once again were hiding together both at Stefanija’s place and Stanislava’s place for a few weeks.
By the efforts of Stanislava the Žukauskas family, which had many children and lived in the village of Švitriškės about 4 km from Vaiguva, took me in autumn 1942. The head of the family, Kipras Žukauskas, and his wife Julija Žukauskienė, their oldest daughter 15 year- old Genė Žukauskaitė (now Furmonavičienė), and also their 11 year-old son Aloyzas Žukauskas, hid me, fed me and protected me. The Žukauskas family knew very well, that by rescuing me they were risking their lives.
After about 3 months raids started near Vaiguva. Policemen came and the situation worsened considerably. I hid the entire time in the barn on the hay. Genė and Aloyzas, cautiously on the look-out, brought me food to eat. They helped me to make a hole under the hay and I hid in that hole. In times of great danger Genė Žukauskaitė and Aloyzas Žukauskas covered the hole with hay and sat on top of the hole. Sitting on top of the hole, they would start doing something. Genė in particular risked her life. She would often stay with me in the barn on the hay, especially at night. If she would have been caught with me, they would have shot her together with me.
I probably would have stayed with the Žukauskas family for a longer time, but the raids never stopped, and Stefanija Kulevičiūtė took me to her place again. I hid in her small room for long months. Stefanija worked as a maid for rich Lithuanians. The food she received she would bring home and share it with me.
Once Stefanija was summoned by the police and interrogated for a long time, asking her about me and my brother. She did not admit anything, and finally she was allowed to leave. When it was very dangerous, I was taken to distant villages to the places of various people, where I would hide for a day or two. I don’t remember, unfortunately, the last names of those people and the names of the villages.
The rural inhabitants knew me, because before the war I often came to our mill, and that created even a bigger danger for me and my rescuers.
In spring 1944 Stanislava took me to the village of Kirkliai near Lioliai to her brother Petras Damanskas’ place. Stanislava stayed together with me. Petras Damanskas, his wife Pranė Damanskienė, their daughter Valerija Damanskaitė (now Tarasevičienė) together with Stanislava hid me and took care of me until the freeing of Kelmė from the Germans, i.e. until the beginning of October 1944.
That summer the front in Lithuania had come to a standstill. The Germans withdrew. There were many German soldiers in the villages. Stanislava Damanskaitė and the entire Damanskas family especially risked their lives in saving me. The danger grew, and almost the whole time I hid in the potato cellar. During these times of growing danger, Valerija Damanskaitė took particular care of me, like an older sister. Cautiously on the look-out, she would bring me food. It was cold in the cellar, and she knitted woollen socks for me and gave me her big wool sweater. Valerija Damanskaitė stayed with me in the cellar for long hours and long nights, because I was afraid of staying there alone. If the policemen or German soldiers would have found us together, we all would have been shot together.
My rescuers felt a human duty to save me from death, awaiting and asking for no reward. And not receiving any reward. They knew well that they were risking their own lives and freedom by rescuing me.
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum, 2009
Dora Shapira-Nidel
From the 4th book Hands Bringing Life and Bread
I am also writing this testimony on behalf of my brother Josef Shapira (Juozas Šapira). My brother died on 3 February 1992.
Our family lived on the outskirts of Kelmė in the village of Naudvaris in Lithuania. My parents had a mill and 5 hectares of land.
Out father Itzhak Shapira (Icchakas Šapira) worked at the flourmill. Our mother Taibe Zilberg-Shapira (Taibė Zilberg-Šapira) took care of the home. My brother Josef (Juozas) Shapira was 11 years old. I was 8. Mother’s unmarried sister Ana Zilberg also lived with our family.
The German army occupied Kelmė on 24–25 June 1941. Soon after armed local Lithuanians appeared with white bands on their sleeves in Kelmė and the surrounding area. At once they began repressions against Jews. They separated the men from the women and children and locked them in Zundelis Luncas’ barn.
Our father was left to work at the flourmill, because no one else knew how to do his work. Our mother Taibe, and mother’s sister Ana, my brother and me were shut in Shimon Osher’s (Šimonas Ošeris) farm in the village of Mažiūniai (about 3–4 km from Kelmė). The local government turned the farms of Jews into concentration camp-ghettos. After a short time we were taken to another concentration camp-ghetto.
At the same time on August 22nd, during the second and final mass killings of Kelmė Jews, the baltaraiščiai shot my father Itzhak Shapira. They also shot Kelmė Jews in gravel pits about a half kilometre from the Kelmė Manor House.
That same day I along with my mother, aunt Ana Zilberg and cousins managed to escape to Aukšmiškis Forest. Lithuanian farmer Saliamonas’ farmhouse was nearby, and it was to him my aunt Chana Rozenfeld (my mother’s sister) gave all her wealth to. My mother also gave him everything, that she had. For this Saliamonas would give us bread through his son. We hid in Aukšmiškis for 5 weeks.
During the same period our former nanny Stanislava Damanskaitė (who was 51 years old) together with my aunt Chana Rozenfeld’s former house servant Stefanija Kulevičiūtė (who was 42 years old) went into Aukšmiškis Forest to look for us. Without having been asked or encouraged, they wandered barefoot through the rain, looking for us, so they could rescue us from death. After a two-week search Stefanija received a painful wound to her leg and could not go any farther. Alone, Stanislava continued to wander through the forest for a whole week, until she found us.
Stanislava took me, because I was the smallest, and led me to her small room on the edge of Kelmė. Afterwards she went again to Aukšmiškis and brought my brother to her place. Having come the third time, she didn’t find anyone else alive. Someone had complained to the local government, that Jews were hiding in the forest, and policemen had come and shot my mother, my mother’s sister Ana Zilberg and both of my cousins Moshe and Emmanuel Rozenfeld on Saliamonas’ land. Chana Rozenfeld, separated from us, went to look for her children, and was caught and shot by baltaraištis Mykolas Jokubaitis in Kelmė.
My brother and I were almost sure that Saliamonas had complained – afterwards when he had gotten all of my family’s property. If Stanislava had not taken us from the forest, then I along with my brother would have been shot.
My brother and I hid in Stanislava’s small room for about 3 weeks. It was very dangerous, because the neighbours knew us, and we were very afraid, that they would notice us and complain. During the day Stanislava worked, and in her free time looked for places for us to hide in villages. She found Juozas a place in a distant village near Raseiniai near the forest. Juozas milked cows there, hiding himself from the eyes of strangers the whole time. He was often hungry. I, unfortunately, don’t remember either the name of the village or the last name of the owners of the farm house. Juozas hid there for about 2 years. Afterwards Stanislava found him another place close to Kryžkalnis, in the village of Adomaičiai, also near the forest. And unfortunately I also don’t remember the last name of my brother’s rescuers. I only know, that they shared each piece of bread with Juozas. Juozas hid there until the freeing of Kelmė from the Germans, i.e. until the beginning of October 1944. Juozas’ family ties with that family lasted until the very end of his life.
Stanislava took me to Stefanija Kulevičiūtė’s place, where I stayed for about 1 month. Afterwards Stanislava found me a place at sisters Elena and Julija Kaušaitė in the village of Zakeliškiai, about 10 km from Kelmė. It was there I found Ida and Bat-Sheva Krubelnik (Batševa Krubelnikaitė) and also Rivka Mendelevitch hiding there. The Kaušaitė sisters were poor, but they shared their very last piece of bread with us. I hid at their place during the winter of 1942 for about 3 months.
During that same period in spring and summer I was hiding both at Stanislava’s place and Stefanija’s place. I returned for a few weeks at Elena and Julija Kaušaitė’s place. Stefanija had a small room near the Kelmė church. It is in that little room I was hiding. In summer my brother came for a while from the village, and we once again were hiding together both at Stefanija’s place and Stanislava’s place for a few weeks.
By the efforts of Stanislava the Žukauskas family, which had many children and lived in the village of Švitriškės about 4 km from Vaiguva, took me in autumn 1942. The head of the family, Kipras Žukauskas, and his wife Julija Žukauskienė, their oldest daughter 15 year- old Genė Žukauskaitė (now Furmonavičienė), and also their 11 year-old son Aloyzas Žukauskas, hid me, fed me and protected me. The Žukauskas family knew very well, that by rescuing me they were risking their lives.
After about 3 months raids started near Vaiguva. Policemen came and the situation worsened considerably. I hid the entire time in the barn on the hay. Genė and Aloyzas, cautiously on the look-out, brought me food to eat. They helped me to make a hole under the hay and I hid in that hole. In times of great danger Genė Žukauskaitė and Aloyzas Žukauskas covered the hole with hay and sat on top of the hole. Sitting on top of the hole, they would start doing something. Genė in particular risked her life. She would often stay with me in the barn on the hay, especially at night. If she would have been caught with me, they would have shot her together with me.
I probably would have stayed with the Žukauskas family for a longer time, but the raids never stopped, and Stefanija Kulevičiūtė took me to her place again. I hid in her small room for long months. Stefanija worked as a maid for rich Lithuanians. The food she received she would bring home and share it with me.
Once Stefanija was summoned by the police and interrogated for a long time, asking her about me and my brother. She did not admit anything, and finally she was allowed to leave. When it was very dangerous, I was taken to distant villages to the places of various people, where I would hide for a day or two. I don’t remember, unfortunately, the last names of those people and the names of the villages.
The rural inhabitants knew me, because before the war I often came to our mill, and that created even a bigger danger for me and my rescuers.
In spring 1944 Stanislava took me to the village of Kirkliai near Lioliai to her brother Petras Damanskas’ place. Stanislava stayed together with me. Petras Damanskas, his wife Pranė Damanskienė, their daughter Valerija Damanskaitė (now Tarasevičienė) together with Stanislava hid me and took care of me until the freeing of Kelmė from the Germans, i.e. until the beginning of October 1944.
That summer the front in Lithuania had come to a standstill. The Germans withdrew. There were many German soldiers in the villages. Stanislava Damanskaitė and the entire Damanskas family especially risked their lives in saving me. The danger grew, and almost the whole time I hid in the potato cellar. During these times of growing danger, Valerija Damanskaitė took particular care of me, like an older sister. Cautiously on the look-out, she would bring me food. It was cold in the cellar, and she knitted woollen socks for me and gave me her big wool sweater. Valerija Damanskaitė stayed with me in the cellar for long hours and long nights, because I was afraid of staying there alone. If the policemen or German soldiers would have found us together, we all would have been shot together.
My rescuers felt a human duty to save me from death, awaiting and asking for no reward. And not receiving any reward. They knew well that they were risking their own lives and freedom by rescuing me.
The Vilna Gaon State Jewish Museum, 2009