rescued jewish children
Masha Muller-Hathskelzon
The Potato-Sack Siblings
Masha Muller-Hathskelzon
From: Solomon Abramovich and Yakov Zilberg “Smuggled in Potato Sacks”, 2011
My father, Aaron Muller, was born in 1918 in the town of Utenai, Lithuania. After gaining a tailor's skills he moved to work in Kaunas. In 1940 he married Hannah Fisher, and I was born in February 1942, in the ghetto.
As a member of the anti-fascist underground my father was informed about the 'Children's Action'. Aware of the terrible consequences of the 'actions', my parents decided to take the risk of trying to save me. Father wrapped me, asleep, in a blanket, put me into a sack of potatoes and, followed by my mother, carried me to the fence. Mother would never see me again. Father slipped with me out of the ghetto and brought me to Dr Baublys' orphanage, where he left me, as agreed, on the porch. There was a note in a pocket of my dress with only two words: Maryte Daugelaite. Father returned to the ghetto: for a long time my parents stood in a room staring at my empty bed with tears in their eyes. Later my father would tell me, 'Only the knowledge that you were safe kept us sane.'
Father also succeeded in organizing Mother's rescue; she was hidden by a kind Lithuanian family. However, she could not bear the loneliness of separation from her child and her husband, and decided to return to the ghetto. She perished with her mother and sister in Stutthof.
Several days before the liquidation of the ghetto my father noticed that the Germans were taking not only finished jackets from the fur factory, where he worked, but also all the materials for unfinished clothing. He immediately decided to escape from the factory, crossed the river by boat (it was dangerous to cross the most direct way over the bridge) and went to the village of Eiguliai where he was good friends with the righteous family of Maryte and Kazys Palkauskas. It was not the last time that this family would help him.
Once, when he was wandering in search of food, he was caught by Polizei a long way from the factory; he was led to the Gestapo, which meant an immediate death penalty. Kazys actually succeeded in releasing him at the last moment from the Lithuanian Polizei's hands. Many times he was on the point of being revealed at Palkauskas' house, but all the family members, including the 12-year-old son, helped him to survive.
Immediately after liberation my father went to the orphanage to collect me. He was so excited that he could only say two words: Maryte Daugelaite. 'Your daughter is alive and safe,' he was told by the nurse, who provided him with an address: Kedainiai district, the village of Pikuliaviciai, and the name of my rescuers, the Urnezhius family. Father managed to obtain from the Soviet authorities an order to return the child to him. In fact there was no need to use this document; the noble family of my rescuers, despite the enormous pain of losing me, agreed without demur to give me, their beloved daughter, back to my father. It was me who fought, cried and refused to go with this stranger. My foster-mother helped my father to calm me down and carried me in her arms to the crossroads where she separated from me with tears in her eyes.
But another fateful blow was awaiting me. On his return to Kaunas my father was mobilized into the Red Army, and forced to leave me in the Jewish orphanage for another year. Only in 1946 were we reunited, this time until my father passed away in 2006 at the age of 87. Father maintained close relations with my rescuers, and he took care that they were recognized as 'Righteous among the Nations' at Yad Vashem in Jerusalem.
In 1973 our family emigrated to Israel. We have two children and four grandchildren here. I retired a couple of years ago. My husband, Lev Hathskelzon, is still working; he is a respected haematologist in Soroka hospital in Beer Sheva.
Beer Sheva, Israel, 2009
Masha Muller-Hathskelzon
From: Solomon Abramovich and Yakov Zilberg “Smuggled in Potato Sacks”, 2011
My father, Aaron Muller, was born in 1918 in the town of Utenai, Lithuania. After gaining a tailor's skills he moved to work in Kaunas. In 1940 he married Hannah Fisher, and I was born in February 1942, in the ghetto.
As a member of the anti-fascist underground my father was informed about the 'Children's Action'. Aware of the terrible consequences of the 'actions', my parents decided to take the risk of trying to save me. Father wrapped me, asleep, in a blanket, put me into a sack of potatoes and, followed by my mother, carried me to the fence. Mother would never see me again. Father slipped with me out of the ghetto and brought me to Dr Baublys' orphanage, where he left me, as agreed, on the porch. There was a note in a pocket of my dress with only two words: Maryte Daugelaite. Father returned to the ghetto: for a long time my parents stood in a room staring at my empty bed with tears in their eyes. Later my father would tell me, 'Only the knowledge that you were safe kept us sane.'
Father also succeeded in organizing Mother's rescue; she was hidden by a kind Lithuanian family. However, she could not bear the loneliness of separation from her child and her husband, and decided to return to the ghetto. She perished with her mother and sister in Stutthof.
Several days before the liquidation of the ghetto my father noticed that the Germans were taking not only finished jackets from the fur factory, where he worked, but also all the materials for unfinished clothing. He immediately decided to escape from the factory, crossed the river by boat (it was dangerous to cross the most direct way over the bridge) and went to the village of Eiguliai where he was good friends with the righteous family of Maryte and Kazys Palkauskas. It was not the last time that this family would help him.
Once, when he was wandering in search of food, he was caught by Polizei a long way from the factory; he was led to the Gestapo, which meant an immediate death penalty. Kazys actually succeeded in releasing him at the last moment from the Lithuanian Polizei's hands. Many times he was on the point of being revealed at Palkauskas' house, but all the family members, including the 12-year-old son, helped him to survive.
Immediately after liberation my father went to the orphanage to collect me. He was so excited that he could only say two words: Maryte Daugelaite. 'Your daughter is alive and safe,' he was told by the nurse, who provided him with an address: Kedainiai district, the village of Pikuliaviciai, and the name of my rescuers, the Urnezhius family. Father managed to obtain from the Soviet authorities an order to return the child to him. In fact there was no need to use this document; the noble family of my rescuers, despite the enormous pain of losing me, agreed without demur to give me, their beloved daughter, back to my father. It was me who fought, cried and refused to go with this stranger. My foster-mother helped my father to calm me down and carried me in her arms to the crossroads where she separated from me with tears in her eyes.
But another fateful blow was awaiting me. On his return to Kaunas my father was mobilized into the Red Army, and forced to leave me in the Jewish orphanage for another year. Only in 1946 were we reunited, this time until my father passed away in 2006 at the age of 87. Father maintained close relations with my rescuers, and he took care that they were recognized as 'Righteous among the Nations' at Yad Vashem in Jerusalem.
In 1973 our family emigrated to Israel. We have two children and four grandchildren here. I retired a couple of years ago. My husband, Lev Hathskelzon, is still working; he is a respected haematologist in Soroka hospital in Beer Sheva.
Beer Sheva, Israel, 2009