Eta Teitch — Association of Jews of Vilna and vicinity in Israel

Testimony given in 1946.

I was born in Namanchin, a village near Vilna, in 1931. My father was an accountant. When I was six, I went to the Tarbut Hebrew-language school, but when I went up to 4^th grade in 1941, war broke out and the quiet family life as I had known it, came to an abrupt end. That’s when a life of suffering and grief began. That was the day when German planes bombed our village, killing many Jews. Fortunately, my family had left the village to take cover from the bombs.

Upon returning to the village, we were witness to the grief of those Jews who had lost family members during the German bombing. When the German soldiers reached the village, they were assisted by Lithuanians in breaking into houses belonging to Jews at night. They would beat and torture people. In the morning, we would hear about what had happened overnight: this one was murdered, that one tortured ….

The big Aktion started a few months later, when the Lithuanians notified us that we should come immediately to the synagogue from where we would be sent to the Vilna Ghetto. The blood drained from my father’s face. He said that we should get dressed and added that under no circumstances would we go to the synagogue.

Meanwhile, our apartment filled with locals who started looking for things to take. My father stood as still as a statue: What should we do? Where should we go: we couldn’t leave the house together as there were Lithuanians waiting in the streets driving people into the synagogue. We could no longer remain in the house.

Father decided that we should sneak out of the house, one by one. I was the first to leave. What was my heart feeling, the heart of a nine-year-old girl? I didn’t comprehend everything but I knew that although I felt bad and resentful there was no alternative but to find a safe place.

The village was surrounded. Armed Lithuanians roamed the streets. I didn’t know where to go. My head was buzzing. Suddenly, I heard the Lithuanians shouting that all the Christians should go back into their houses. I started running towards the forest, behind other Jews. Germans were standing at the edge of the forest with their guns trained on us. We came to a halt.

I was so surprised when one of the Germans turned to me and asked where I was going? I glimpsed at the face of this drunk murderer and said that I was going to my home at the edge of the forest. He slapped me across the face, scolded me for running around at a time like this and ordered me to run home. That’s how I was saved and could leave them and move on. However, all the Jews that were there were shot by the Germans.

I wander around the dark forest. I ask myself: Where am I going? I remembered that the German had sent me home. Where was my home? Where was I? The persistent thought hit me and I shivered all over.

I suddenly heard echoes and screams. The Germans had taken the Jews out of the synagogue and were killing them at the edge of the forest.

My head was spinning. It seemed as if there was blood all around me. My eyes could only see a dark cloud and then I collapsed and fell down. Far from home, alone and lonely in the dark forest.

I lay unconscious in the forest for a long time. When I woke up, I found myself in bed. A gentile woman sat next to me, crying. In answer to her questions, I told her everything. She didn’t want to believe that I was Jewish, but promised to help me. She told me that she had come across me in the forest when she had gone out looking for mushrooms.

She was very good to me. However, the other villagers knew about me and had decided to hand me over to the Germans. The following night, when everyone was asleep, I heard a racket going on and knocking on the door. I immediately understood what was going on. The door was forced open by the Lithuanians in the village. Disorientated, the gentile woman grabbed me and threw me out of the window. One of the Lithuanian policemen noticed and started shooting. Luckily, the forest was nearby and I ran towards it like mad. Bullets whining behind me. The police were scared to go into the forest when it was dark and so the shooting gradually stopped.

I kept on running in the darkness of this strange night. I wandered back and forth and was afraid to stop, even for a moment, not believing that I, who had been so afraid to go out alone at night, without my father, was now in just such a situation. I said to myself: apparently, this is how things are supposed to be.

The darkness slowly gave way to light but I still couldn’t make out all the paths in the forest.  Suddenly, I saw a hut over the hill. A poor, gentile woman lived there and she took pity on me, but I was afraid to stay in that locality. So, she took me to her sister in a different village. It was only when I got there that I knew what loneliness and suffering were. The woman tormented me. I worked extremely hard but she still beat me. She would abuse me until I walked around in a daze. This continued for three difficult and dark years.

After being liberated by the Red Army I returned to Vilna, where I met my sister who had been sheltered in a different village. I went to a Jewish school and then went to Poland.

I have now been in the Hashomer Hatzair children’s kibbutz for four months. Something within me has changed. Collective living has taught me a lot and enabled me to forget a lot. After those difficult years, I am starting to think about where I want to go in life. I am happy that I have found a home and the road to the future is ahead of me.

Source and credit: One from the City and Two from the Family, by Benjamin Tenenbaum, Sifriat Hapoalim, 1947.