rescued jewish children
Genia Kaltinovsky-Zalishansky
The Potato-Sack Siblings
Genia Kaltinovsky
From: Solomon Abramovich and Yakov Zilberg “Smuggled in Potato Sacks”, 2011
For years I avoided talking about our family's fate, it was and still is too painful; I even refused to see movies related to the Holocaust. But once I was persuaded to see Roberto Benigni's Life Is Beautiful and deeply regretted it. I never asked questions, and my parents, especially my father, did not speak about the ghetto or the concentration camps. This story is based mainly on a few things my mother told me.
My father, Michael Kaltinovsky, was born in a small town called Kraziai near Shauliai. Before the war he worked in Kaunas as a tailor. My parents married there, but were unable to enjoy their new life for long. The war began, followed by the Nazi occupation and the ghetto years.
From my father's family, one of my uncles emigrated to Palestine in the 1930s, two sisters managed to escape to Russia, but all the rest perished.
My mother, Feiga, was one of many children in Yoffe's family. One of her brothers fought during the war in the 16th Division of the Soviet Army. Her mother and sister Lea stayed with them in the ghetto; only Lea survived, all the others were killed by the Nazis.
I was born on 3 February 1942 and my mother named me . . . 'Geto'. Many years later I asked her, 'Why did you give me such a terrible name?' Her answer astonished me, 'I didn't care a damn about a name for somebody who was going to die. Hitler was not interested in the names of the children he would kill.'
At birth I was very weak and frail; I became so ill that the best Jewish doctors in the ghetto did not know what was wrong with me or how to help me. Everybody, including my parents, was sure I would not live long. Fortunately one physician told my parents that I was suffering from vitamin C deficiency; my father found a way to buy injections of this vitamin and I recovered.
When rumours circulated about an imminent children's round-up, a Jewish man told my father about the option of hiding a child with a Lithuanian family. The man had three children of his own, but he could not make use of this opportunity: one of his children was a circumcised boy and his two daughters were grown up and spoke only Yiddish, so they could not pass for Lithuanians.
Mother did not want to send me away, but my father was adamant and insisted on taking this chance. I was given a shot of Luminal and carried out of the ghetto in a sack of potatoes. The guards on the gate were bribed. I was handed over to a childless couple, Stasys (Stanislovas) and Antosia (Antonina) Stankevichius. I was a girl with a typical Aryan appearance; Antosia told my mother how one high-ranking German officer could not help looking at me, such a charming Aryan girl; he even gave Antosia some money to buy me a present.
I was baptized and named Genute Stankevichiute. The only thing I clearly remember from my life with the Stankevichius family is that I used to kneel and pray every night before I went to sleep. Stankevichius' neighbours reported to the police that a Jewish girl was being hidden in this family. The Germans came, looked at my blue eyes and blonde hair, checked my documents and went away assured that it was a false report. However, after this event Stankiavichius moved us to the countryside to be on the safe side.
When the ghetto was liquidated my father was sent to Dachau. In 1945, when the liberating Allied forces were approaching, the German guards fled, and the prisoners of the camp scattered in different directions. A group of hungry prison- ers, with my father among them, found some food left by the Germans. Almost everybody ate more than their stomachs could tolerate, many became very ill, and some even died. To my father's good fortune, his closest friend, Shimon Dvoretz, who was physically stronger than my father, took the food from his mouth by force. Father was very weak and so was sent to the American hospital, specifically opened in a monastery in Germany for the treatment and rehabilitation of prisoners of the concentration camps.
Somebody told my father that my mother had been seen in Berlin. Father could not wait in the hospital till he was completely recovered; he left in a hurry to look for her. It is hard to believe how, but he managed to find her in a city as huge as Berlin and in the chaos of the post-war days. I do not know how or why my mother ended up in Berlin after the liberation of Stutthof. My parents were offered an opportunity to go to the West, but they naturally decided to return to Lithuania to find me.
Meanwhile, my father's sister Rachel had located me with the Stankevichius family and insisted on them giving me over to her. The Stankevichius' told her they would only return me directly to my parents but my aunt forced them to give me up.
My parents returned to Kaunas and found out that I had been taken to Vilnius by my aunt; they were upset about the way my aunt had treated the Stankevichius couple, who were most kind and generous people. Not only had they asked for absolutely nothing for rescuing me, but they even gave my parents some money to move to Vilnius and buy a sewing machine, which was so essential for them to start to work again. We maintained a very close relationship with Antosia and Stasys till their death. When as a child I was asked what my mother's name was, I always said, 'I have three mothers: Antosia, Feiga and Rachel'. Antosia was always named first.
After high school I decided to become a nurse. I married Josef Zalishansky and in 1962 our first son David was born. In 1971 our family, including my parents, emigrated to Israel, and our second son Daniel was born there in 1974. We have three grandchildren.
Antosia and Stasys Stankevichius were awarded the title 'Righteous among the Nations' by Yad Vashem.
Nes Ziona, Israel, 2008
Genia Kaltinovsky
From: Solomon Abramovich and Yakov Zilberg “Smuggled in Potato Sacks”, 2011
For years I avoided talking about our family's fate, it was and still is too painful; I even refused to see movies related to the Holocaust. But once I was persuaded to see Roberto Benigni's Life Is Beautiful and deeply regretted it. I never asked questions, and my parents, especially my father, did not speak about the ghetto or the concentration camps. This story is based mainly on a few things my mother told me.
My father, Michael Kaltinovsky, was born in a small town called Kraziai near Shauliai. Before the war he worked in Kaunas as a tailor. My parents married there, but were unable to enjoy their new life for long. The war began, followed by the Nazi occupation and the ghetto years.
From my father's family, one of my uncles emigrated to Palestine in the 1930s, two sisters managed to escape to Russia, but all the rest perished.
My mother, Feiga, was one of many children in Yoffe's family. One of her brothers fought during the war in the 16th Division of the Soviet Army. Her mother and sister Lea stayed with them in the ghetto; only Lea survived, all the others were killed by the Nazis.
I was born on 3 February 1942 and my mother named me . . . 'Geto'. Many years later I asked her, 'Why did you give me such a terrible name?' Her answer astonished me, 'I didn't care a damn about a name for somebody who was going to die. Hitler was not interested in the names of the children he would kill.'
At birth I was very weak and frail; I became so ill that the best Jewish doctors in the ghetto did not know what was wrong with me or how to help me. Everybody, including my parents, was sure I would not live long. Fortunately one physician told my parents that I was suffering from vitamin C deficiency; my father found a way to buy injections of this vitamin and I recovered.
When rumours circulated about an imminent children's round-up, a Jewish man told my father about the option of hiding a child with a Lithuanian family. The man had three children of his own, but he could not make use of this opportunity: one of his children was a circumcised boy and his two daughters were grown up and spoke only Yiddish, so they could not pass for Lithuanians.
Mother did not want to send me away, but my father was adamant and insisted on taking this chance. I was given a shot of Luminal and carried out of the ghetto in a sack of potatoes. The guards on the gate were bribed. I was handed over to a childless couple, Stasys (Stanislovas) and Antosia (Antonina) Stankevichius. I was a girl with a typical Aryan appearance; Antosia told my mother how one high-ranking German officer could not help looking at me, such a charming Aryan girl; he even gave Antosia some money to buy me a present.
I was baptized and named Genute Stankevichiute. The only thing I clearly remember from my life with the Stankevichius family is that I used to kneel and pray every night before I went to sleep. Stankevichius' neighbours reported to the police that a Jewish girl was being hidden in this family. The Germans came, looked at my blue eyes and blonde hair, checked my documents and went away assured that it was a false report. However, after this event Stankiavichius moved us to the countryside to be on the safe side.
When the ghetto was liquidated my father was sent to Dachau. In 1945, when the liberating Allied forces were approaching, the German guards fled, and the prisoners of the camp scattered in different directions. A group of hungry prison- ers, with my father among them, found some food left by the Germans. Almost everybody ate more than their stomachs could tolerate, many became very ill, and some even died. To my father's good fortune, his closest friend, Shimon Dvoretz, who was physically stronger than my father, took the food from his mouth by force. Father was very weak and so was sent to the American hospital, specifically opened in a monastery in Germany for the treatment and rehabilitation of prisoners of the concentration camps.
Somebody told my father that my mother had been seen in Berlin. Father could not wait in the hospital till he was completely recovered; he left in a hurry to look for her. It is hard to believe how, but he managed to find her in a city as huge as Berlin and in the chaos of the post-war days. I do not know how or why my mother ended up in Berlin after the liberation of Stutthof. My parents were offered an opportunity to go to the West, but they naturally decided to return to Lithuania to find me.
Meanwhile, my father's sister Rachel had located me with the Stankevichius family and insisted on them giving me over to her. The Stankevichius' told her they would only return me directly to my parents but my aunt forced them to give me up.
My parents returned to Kaunas and found out that I had been taken to Vilnius by my aunt; they were upset about the way my aunt had treated the Stankevichius couple, who were most kind and generous people. Not only had they asked for absolutely nothing for rescuing me, but they even gave my parents some money to move to Vilnius and buy a sewing machine, which was so essential for them to start to work again. We maintained a very close relationship with Antosia and Stasys till their death. When as a child I was asked what my mother's name was, I always said, 'I have three mothers: Antosia, Feiga and Rachel'. Antosia was always named first.
After high school I decided to become a nurse. I married Josef Zalishansky and in 1962 our first son David was born. In 1971 our family, including my parents, emigrated to Israel, and our second son Daniel was born there in 1974. We have three grandchildren.
Antosia and Stasys Stankevichius were awarded the title 'Righteous among the Nations' by Yad Vashem.
Nes Ziona, Israel, 2008