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These were the years close to the depression and the general economic situation was very bad. I had no intention of staying in Shavli. It was a very unattractive city and I figured that after a while at home I would go back to Western Europe to look for a job. The Belgian government was offering, at that time, jobs in the Belgian Congo with very high salaries. I thought I might go there but I didn't because I would have had to sign a long-term contract, something I didn't want to do. I see now that this was a good thing. Everybody knows what happened in the Congo. The people were forced away later on by the revolution which caused the Belgian king to give his colony back to the natives. A good friend of mine, Potruch, who had stayed in Belgium ran away to the Congo when the Germans invaded but he later had to flee the country because of the War of Independence of Zaire. There was also a chance for me to go to Russia but, as I mentioned before, I did not take this course.

My brother Yaakov informed me that there was a good chance for me to get a job as a chemist in a famous rubber factory in Riga called Quadrat. By the time I arrived there, however, his friend, the director, had died and I was stuck without a position. I worked several months in textile dying but I didn't see any future in this work. Finally, papa, who believed very much in bookkeeping, advised me to take a course in bookkeeping for the time being. I did this and shortly after that received a job in a bank - Riga's Tirznezibas Banka - where I spent about two years. I lived with my sister Asya during this time and I had some friends from my university days to associate with, but it was a trying time for me as I had to decide what to do with my future. This period of life, the early twenties, is very trying for everybody. It is a time when school is finished and a decision has to be made as to what direction to go in: try to get a job? continue with education? Or just take it easy?

After two years in the bank I felt that this was not for me. I decided to quit and go back home, go through the military services and then go back to Europe for something better. I still was an accepted student in university so, actually, there was no rush for me to go through the military service. I was seeing various specialists at the time because of my eyesight and the problems I always had with my nose and when I went to the commission they freed me. It turned out that they didn't need soldiers at that time and people with high education didn't enlist in the army.

The real break, which determined my future, came when Yaakov Frankel, the big boss of the tannery, came to Shavli. He asked about me and, when he saw me, told me that there could be a great future for me in the tannery if I was interested. At that time my attitude changed dramatically and I didn't see any reason why I shouldn't take this offer. I accepted it and enlisted in the German tanning school in Freiberg. After going there, I worked for a time in the office of the tannery in close association with a man called Ilya Mordel and learned a bit about the general office routine, buying and selling procedures, etc.

The tanning school was very interesting. The teachers and students were quite respectful toward me there. While I was at this school I had a chance to work out the problems which I had brought with me from home. These problems were chiefly of a technical nature and were especially concerned with how to improve the quality of leather. There was a variety of students from different countries of the world. We had a very interesting time at that school. I was there about a year, then I joined the Research Institute for the Leather Trade in Freiberg. Professor Stahter was the leader and with him there was a group of prominent scientists in this line. I was in this place for approximately a year. From there I moved to the labs of I.G. Farben in Ludwigshafen. This was a very famous German industrial complex which supplied chemicals, dye stuffs and tanning materials to the whole world. I stayed there several months.

One day, while I was at I.G. Farben, I was called by telephone at work and was given a message of importance. I had to go back to the Research Institute. This was by Frankel's request. The tannery used to sell leathers to the Soviet Union and the leathers had to have specific chemical and physical standards. Before shipping the huge quantities of goods, commissioners would come, pick up samples, and send them to be tested in the universities of Saunas and Riga. When the results were satisfactory in both places, the deal would be completed. However, in the event that the results were different in the two peaces, a sample used to be sent to the Research Institute in Freiberg for a final examination, Their result would then be accepted.

I knew in advance the problems which could be encountered in such an investigation but I had no exact plans of how to handle this particular case. Anyway, it was a good chance for me to break the routine and go back to Freiberg to see my old friends, all expenses paid, and see what I could do.

What can be done in a case like this? Obviously one of the institutions had rejected the leather after the tests. To prevent a negative result in Freiberg, I had to do something to ensure that the reports from that institution were satisfactory. One way would be to convince, with presents, the chemists or the secretaries to put their stamp of approval on the leather. However, I couldn't do much along these lines because these weren't simply lab technicians I was dealing with. These were well known scientists. Two of them would work on each such test. The only thing I could think of doing was to test the leather myself. Coming in, I talked to Professor Stahter. I told him I had some problems to clear up regarding sole leather and it would be wonderful if I could spend a couple of weeks on this. All I needed was some material to work on.

He said, "Oh, wunderbar! We just received some samples. Go ahead and do parallel tests to the ones the other two chemists are doing."

As I knew ahead of time where the problems were, I quickly did the necessary tests and during lunch time, when the other two professors went for their break, I fixed up their samples. The results turned out very well. Naturally, everything was kept secret and nobody had any suspicions of wrongdoing. Besides the chemical analysis, there was also a physical test to establish the breaking strength of the finished leather. A piece of leather of a certain shape was supposed to be put in a machine and pulled from both sides until the breaking point. At that moment one could read on a screen how many kilograms per square meter were applied at the breaking point. The problem was that the shape of the sample had to be exactly the same each time to be able to compare with other results. The sample they used in Freiberg was not exactly the one prescribed by the Soviet Union. Therefore, it could be expected that the results would not coincide with the ones in Kaunas or Riga. However, this test was not of any great importance and I could do nothing about the results anyway. I wrote home about this and then I left Freiberg. I went to Ludwigshafen without waiting for a reply.

I took my leave in the friendliest of ways from the Research Institute in the belief that the conspiracy had paid off. A couple of weeks later, I received a letter from Dr. Stahter. It turned out that the conspiracy had been discovered. After receiving my letter about the physical tests, the tannery in Shavli sent a telegram addressed to me care of the Institute saying, "Make physical tests the way Freiberg does." It was signed, "Frankel". As I was no longer there they must have opened the communication. Then they understood the whole trick. Stahter wrote me a very nasty letter and I don't blame him. I had a very uneasy feeling about this incident and I hoped I would never meet Stahter again. Later on, however, I was to meet this man again under very dangerous circumstances.

The short time I spent back in Freiberg was pleasant. I had the chance to visit Dresden, a very famous cultural center in Germany, with its churches, museums and shows. There I heard Yehudi Menuhin for the first time. He was just thirteen years old then but he was already famous all over the world. I also visited the Dresden opera, conducted by Karl Boehm, before I returned to Ludwigshafen.

Finally, when I felt that I had done everything needed to commence my new profession, I returned home. In fact, nobody in Frankel's tannery was waiting for me and no position was available. The superintendent at that time was a German by the name of Schlee. He was a good tanner and he used his knowledge in a very clever way. He drew an astronomical salary, paid no taxes, had his rent paid for him, etc. Everything was arranged to his advantage. He was considered the best man in the field and nobody ever thought of firing him. Thus, coming back to the tannery, I was confronted with a wall of indifference. I went back to the office and occasionally made the rounds of the factory. The administration had absolutely no intentions of giving me Schlee's job. After a certain time, however, he gave his notice. Having international connections through the chemical companies and machine factories, he soon received a position somewhere in South America.

I was then confronted with his job and I had a tough time for a year or two before I got a firm hold on it. I had to learn many things in technical and administrative areas. It takes quite a bit of training to be able to administer a big apparatus involving about five hundred employees and to keep discipline. However, I progressed very well and after two or three years I was well entrenched in the position. I made progress in all respects. I improved the quality of the products, made great savings in the methods of production, and became respected in the field.

Every year, during my holidays, I went to Europe to learn more about the trade. Wherever there was a chance to learn more, there I would go. We bought new equipment at this time and began using new technical systems. One of the new endeavors in the tannery was to start producing patent leather. I visited patent leather factories abroad and also called foreign specialists home to instruct me. We built a kitchen to boil the lacquers and reserved an area for the production of patent leather.

To take care of this department I assigned a foreman by the name of Chanan Luft and hired a man called Jonas Jocas to be in charge of the lacquer kitchen. I recently heard that Luft was still in charge of his department and Jocas, though retired, is still alive and well. In my life later on. Jocas was to play an important role in my life later on.

I hired Jocas under unusual circumstances. That was in 1933 or 1934. At that time many people - close to a hundred a day - would gather outside the factory hoping to be hired, but very few could be given jobs. There was a special man to take care of hiring workers but, one day, a man came to me at my home. This man was Jocas. He told me that he had been a political prisoner for four years and had just gotten out of jail. He had been accused of being a communist sympathizer. He told me that his mother was sick and that he needed a job desperately. He had applied everywhere but couldn't find employment. Since, at that time, we were building the separate department to make patent leather I hired him and trained him to operate the "kitchen" where we boiled the lacquers for the patent leather. The lacquer was linseed oil to which certain chemicals had to be added while, at the same time, the temperature was raised until it was ready - a process which took between eighteen and twenty-five hours. The temperature of the mixture would keep rising and when it reached it reached a certain critical point the mixture had to be removed from the source of heat or else it would cause a fire. Jonas Jocas was hired to do this job and it was his duty to watch over the process and see that it progressed properly. Jocas learned quickly and soon did not need much supervision. He did this job for six years. During this time there were a few fires but he was always able to stop them.

Then, one day in 1940, there was a fire and the kitchen burned down. It was learned that Jocas had not been present at the job although he knew that the mixture would be reaching the critical temperature at that time. He was attending a clandestine communist meeting at the far end of the property. As a result of this episode he was fired. I did not like to do this - or to fire any man - but since he was no longer reliable I had no choice. He was given compensation consisting of two weeks' pay and was also compensated for a sheepskin jacket and other articles which he lost in the fire, but he was let go. Another man was hired and trained in his place.

The patent leather department was only a small part of my work at the factory. There were several other departments. All of these kept me busy and very interested.

Besides work, life in Shavli was not exciting. I had a few friends, a few acquaintances, married and unmarried. Quite often I used to visit my brother and sister in Riga. They, with their families, came regularly to Shavli for holidays.

It was at this time that I met Gita Shifman. I had known her family for years. She was a sister of Judith who was about my age. Judith graduated from the Lithuanian High School but still we were close friends. I knew Bliumit, the other sister, less well and I never noticed the existence of the little sister, Gita, who was attending kindergarten at the time I graduated from school. Then I met her at a ball in Shavli. She was very attractive and after that we used to run into each other occasionally. That was before I went to Freiberg. Coming back to Shavli, I happened to meet Judith. By then she was married and lived in Italy. She had come home for a time to visit her folks. We met each other as old friends and I invited her to come to a concert with me. When I went to pick her up, however, I was told she had been sick and it was suggested that I take her little sister. That was the beginning of our romance. Gita was a beautiful girl and very intelligent. We fell in love.

Our wedding was on May third, 1934. That was a great event. We stood under the canopy in the yard of Shifman's house at number three Basanaviciaus Street. A whole crowd, neighbors and other guests, gathered for the ceremony. The guests drove through the city in a droshka (horse-drawn carriage) with top hats, blue top coats and white gloves on.

The suite promised to us in my father's four-plex was not finished yet so we stayed the first couple of weeks with my in-laws. A year later, we went on our honeymoon to Ostende, a Belgian resort on the English Channel. Until then we stayed in our new suite. We enjoyed a wonderful year.

Going to Belgium, we had to pass through Germany. Hitler was already in power and thus Gita and I saw the big changes in Germany, especially in regards to relations between Jews and non-Jews. We, as foreigners, were not subjected to too many problems. However, as we spent a couple of weeks in Frankfurt, we heard stories about Jews losing their jobs, about high-positioned people forced to clean the streets and sewers, stories of Jews not being allowed in many restaurants and so on. We didn't realize at that time how far this discrimination would go.

Ruth was born in 1936 and naturally this was the greatest event of that time for us. Gita didn't trust the local gynecologists so we made arrangements to go to Kaunas to the best specialist. When we came back we hired a nanny, an old Russian woman, who was famous in her field. She spoke Russian with Ruth. Actually, Russian was the accepted language of the so-called "intelligentsia" in Lithuania at that time.

Papa was not very happy about the fact that we lived in a downstairs suite as he thought it was too far to go to visit us. (He lived upstairs.) He gave us another suite upstairs to be closer to them. In the end, the arrangement was that we occupied the two top suites--one for us and one for my parents--while the two downstairs suites were rented out. My mother had a maid for the house and we had a maid and a nanny. In the yard there was another small building where the caretaker, Jonas, lived with his wife and daughter. Jonas took care of the facilities for heating, water, etc., and his wife used to do the laundry and perform other household services. It was a pretty comfortable life. At the back of the property was a large orchard with apples, pears and berries. We could have lived there a long time had not the world situation interfered.

My father, though he never became very strong, was still active as the financial director of Frankel's business and he was a very busy man. He used to leave in the morning for the office, come home for lunch about two o'clock, stay home about two hours, then go back to the office in the afternoon. We used to have dinner at around eight o'clock in the evening.

For a certain period of time, father was very worried about the business. He would come home in the evenings and pace back and forth in the living room with a very worried air. In earlier years he was probably worried, as well, about having two unmarried girls and a son with an unknown future. However, in later years he became more philosophical about life and decided he might as well look on the brighter side of things. Actually, he had good reason to look on the brighter side because he was happy with my position and he was also happy that both my sisters, Asya and Tzilia, had gotten married. Both of these marriages were arranged by matchmakers. The girls didn't have much contact with appropriate bachelors but in the end Asya married Solomon Levy of Riga and Tzilia married Abraham Schatz from Ponovesz, in Lithuania. Both were very fine men. Abraham was a prominent lawyer and Solomon a bookkeeper. My sisters became happy mothers and wives.

After these problems were over, my father became much more relaxed. In the evening he used to come home and, after dinner, he would put on his smoking jacket and study a blatt of Gemorrah. Fridays, when he came home early, I could see how he enjoyed the Sabbath and the time he spent in the synagogue, especially during the holidays when the whole family - children and grandchildren--used to be at home.

In the later years, my parents would usually go to a resort for the summer. Because my dad suffered from chronic bronchitis, he tried to go to places where there were forests and clean air. Sometimes he would go to the Baltic Sea near Riga, where the whole family would come together.

When at home, papa went daily to the office. Mama was busy making preserves with the help of her maid and the caretaker's wife, Ona. The last two or three days of the week she was busy preparing for the Shabbos.

Thursday was the regular day for the poor of the town (beggars) to go around asking for alms. Each of them had his established rate and considered this amount his right. They were very strange types of people such as are not seen nowadays. Mother had rather special people to support - people who, being relatives, played a great role in our family life. One of them was Mere. She was a distant relative. Mere had two brothers who lived in the United States who used to support her. They sent the money to mother and she kept track of how Mere used it. Once these brothers sent Mere the papers she needed to go to the States and she actually went there. But while she was there she became confused (for she was not always in her right mind) so they sent her back to Lithuania. She used to come to our house to help bring our chickens to the shocheth and then would come back and help pluck them. She helped quite a bit in the preparations for the Passover as well. Mere's most outstanding trait was that, whenever she did anything, she never stopped. Somebody had to stop her (which invariably was my mother}. As she became old, she continued to receive money from her brothers to her last day. Toward the end, when she was very weak and old, we put her in the old folks home and took care of her until she died.

Another of these relatives was Nesia Weiss. Her name indicates that she was somehow related to us via grandfather Weiss. This woman is now eighty-five and resides in Israel. Nesia was probably born for trouble. Her mother died from cancer when I was a little boy. Nesia lived with her brother and was supported by the family. During the First World War she somehow landed somewhere in Russia and lived there with her brother, Boris. In the early twenties she returned to Shavli and landed in our house. Actually, I don't remember her working--she was usually supported by my parents. Being a girl in her twenties, she had to be married. Mother and father tried their best to get a matchmaker and get her married. Naturally, the dowry was supplied by us. In the end she got a pretty good man - the secretary of the Jewish High School. With partial support from my mother, they had a normal living. They had two children but they were always sick. The boy had tuberculosis and the girl was also sick most of the time. It was not a very happy situation. When the Second World War came they were moved to the ghettos. The husband and the girl both died there. The other child was taken away by the Germans. Nesia, herself, like most of the other Jews from the ghetto, was transported to a concentration camp. She survived and came back to Shavli to us. We helped her again to meet another husband. They lived in Shavli for a time and had a pretty good life. The husband had made some money in the Black Market but he didn't live long after the war and, after he died, Nesia lived alone. Later on she started to write letters to Monia and Esther who were both, by then, in Israel (Bere-Meyshe's children) saying that she was afraid to stay there alone as many terrible things could happen to a woman alone. About ten years ago, when there was the first relaxation on Jewish immigration from Russia, she got a permit to leave and went to Tel Aviv. I paid for her transportation. She settled in a small city, Ramatayim. I am still supporting her. It now looks as if, these last couple of years in Israel, with all her cousins doing their utmost to keep her happy, she is spending the best years of her life - the first trouble-free time. We visited Nesia in her small flat on our last visit to Israel and she seems to be enjoying life very much.

Father's health deteriorated in the later years. He suffered from emphysema and had to stop smoking. His colds were continuous. In 1937, after Rosh Hashanah, he caught a cold and we noticed immediately that it was serious. The local doctors, Dr. Rozovsky and Dr. Kantorovitz, were there every day but finally they decided to call help. They called Dr. Hach and another prominent physician from Riga but they also were unable to stabilize my father's condition. His state continued to worsen. Yaakov and Eva, and their children as well, and Tzilia and her family and Asya were there all the time. After they started to give father oxygen, his condition seemed improved. I got a phone call then from Peisachovitz an old friend of my father's and the father of Peisachovitz from New York who I will tell you about in another section. Peisachovitz suggested that we try to bring a professor from Koenigsberg, Germany. In no time, arrangements were made. The professor came early next morning, but his findings were very pessimistic. In fact, my father died a short time after that in his own bed with his children and grandchildren and friends from the city present.

He had a great funeral. Rabbi Caganovitz from Ponovesz, a very prominent rabbi, and Rabbi Bloch of Telshi, the chief of the Yeshiva, said eulogies in the synagogue. The funeral procession proceeded through the town, stopping at the children's home, the old-folks' home and Frankel's tannery. Papa had been very active in town, especially in the welfare organizations. He was sixty-nine years old when he died.

Papa left no will. Besides the building, there was money in the bank. Later on we tried to sell the building and we kept the money in the bank as long as possible. We tried to use it to help out the members of our family who needed it the most. We used it first for Asya, then for Yaakov and whenever possible we sent parcels to Moscow. Tzilia and I were in better positions and we did not have to use any funds from this account. In the end, the remaining money was confiscated when the Russians invaded our country in 1940.

The death of my father was a great shock to all of us. We had all been around for weeks and had put up a tremendous fight to keep him alive. It took a long time before the grief and pain subsided. After papa died, mama rented one room of her four room suite for a nominal rent to a girl so that she would have company. I lived with my family just down the hall.

One summer evening in 1938 there was a knocking at the door. A young man with reddish hair stood there. He explained to us that he was Milton Shufro from Chicago. He was a son of mama's cousin, one of the children she had cared for earlier. Milton was returning from a trip to the U.S.S.R. and decided to visit us on his way back because his mother had told him not to return home without seeing Shana Liebe. He stayed with us several weeks and also stayed with Yaakov for a while. From there he returned to the United States via Prague, Czechoslovakia. He arrived in Prague just at the time Hitler invaded Czechoslovakia. He wrote to us from there urging us to try to escape from our country because the war was imminent. Once back in the United States he mobilized all his family - his brothers and sisters - and they got together the necessary papers for us to immigrate to the United States. But when these papers arrived and we enquired at the American Consulate about immigration we were told that the quota was filled and we would have to wait several years to get out of the country.

Had we only known what dangers awaited us we might have applied more pressure to get out earlier as many other people did. But we were too naive and inexperienced. We got trapped and had to face the dangers of the war.

We got in touch with the Shufros and others of our cousins again in 1946 when we landed in the American zone in Germany after the war. They were just wonderful to us--especially Mary Jacobson, Milton's sister, who was the main coordinator of all the help we received from my cousins in America after the war.

In 1938, the world situation became extremely tense as the result of the rising power of Nazi Germany. The tension rose from day to day and all the world was affected by the growing storm. In l938, Hitler invaded Austria and then Czechoslovakia. In 1939, the war had come close to us. In March of that year, Hitler invaded the city of Memel (now called Klaipeda), a part of Lithuania with a large German population.

On March third, 1939, our second daughter, Tamara, was born. A gynecologist who lived just across the street from us and who was also a good friend of ours, Dr. Goldberg, delivered the child. Some people advised against going to his clinic as they thought he was not a very good doctor. Whether that was so or not, it happened that thirteen days after Tamara was born Gita became very ill. It seems she had a blood infection. She had a very high temperature and pains in her legs. Goldberg and Gita's cousin, Wulf Peisachovitz, who was also in our town at that time, tried to help but, when the situation didn't improve, they called in a famous gynecologist from Saunas, Dr. Lurye. He came fast but, apparently, he did not prescribe the right thing. While he was examining her a blood clot from Gita's legs travelled to her lungs. She had terrible pains and there was the danger that another movement of the clot would cause instant death. This famous doctor's advice was to stop giving her solid food. He prescribed only cognac. He explained to us that the alcohol was absorbed into the blood directly and did not affect the other organs. He told us to use one bottle of alcohol a day. We tried it but the results were very bad. Gita became drunk and the pains were terrible. It seemed the situation was hopeless. Our next step was to try the famous doctor, Dr. Sach, from Riga. He also came immediately and it seems he prescribed the right thing. He ordered complete rest and said not to move at all for, he figured, eight to ten weeks. He said this would keep the clot in the same place and cause it to grow to the vein, eventually becoming part of it. His advice worked but it was not easy to follow this regime. We moved Ruth to mother's suite and placed little Tamara with a wet nurse. We kept our suite for only Gita and myself and borrowed a nurse from Frankel. The nurse stayed in our flat all the time. A needle was prepared for emergency purposes to be used if we sensed any trouble and even I had instructions on how to use it if I saw Gita was in trouble. Slowly, the situation improved but there were always problems to get rid of the swelling of both legs. The doctor tried all kinds of remedies, including leeches. All these treatments were painful and dangerous.

The only advantage of the whole situation was that I got stuck with two cases of cognac and we (the nurse and I) felt it was our duty to make use of it.

There were other problems and complications as well at that time. Gita's mother was very sick and went with her sister (Gita's aunt Hanna) to Saunas where they found she had cancer of the bladder. We also had bad news from Riga - we found out that Yaakov's boys were seriously ill. Naturally, all the news came to me and neither Gita nor my mother were to know about it.

A great tragedy arrived when, one day, Dora Schochet came over and told me that Matya, Yaakov's older son, has died suddenly. I happened to have a travelling passport and was able to go to Riga the next day for the funeral. I used the pretext that I had business there, something which used to happen very seldom. It appeared that Zali, the youngest son, had had measles. Several days later, his older brother didn't feel well. They called a doctor, a good friend of theirs, who was considered to be the best children's doctor in Riga. He came and noticed some spots behind Matya's ears which indicated he had measles too. But the next day he was still very sick and had pain in his stomach. As the pain was not too severe, the doctor considered this quite normal for measles. That was a Saturday and he promised to come again Sunday. The pain was from appendicitis, however, and by Sunday the appendix had burst. He died that evening.

I didn't stay long in Riga. My problem now was how to keep this news from Gita and mama. Gita had her own problems and it took a long time before mother finally started to worry about why Yaakov didn't write or come to visit us. She finally found out the reason from Ruth. Ruth was three years old at that time and when her grandmother started to talk about Yaakov's silence and why he didn't come to visit us Ruth told her straight out about Matya's death.

The shock to mama was terrible and I had another patient on my hands. All these weeks I was the only one there to cope with all these problems. Several times a day I had to leave work and go home because Gita wouldn't take any medicine or treatment unless I was present. Papa had been the same way when he was sick. To complicate all these things there was the political situation.

Gita got out of bed despite the warning from Dr. Mach not to do so. Luckily, nothing happened and, as you know, she is still alive today. Since then, however, she has had problems with her legs.

This year, 1939, was a terrible year for me. But by the second part of it I was happy again. Gita was saved and we could continue the normal life we all knew in a large family. Tamara was a wonderful little girl. She was not too much of a burden for us as she was quiet and had a nurse to care for her. It was a joy having her around.

On September 1st, 1939, Germany started her war against Poland. With Austria and Czechoslovakia.Germany's invasion had been peaceful but with Poland there was a war. We were very close by but as long as it didn't touch us we felt we were secure. As a matter of fact, while many refugees from Poland landed in our place, we felt at peace and happy. We used to have a good time. We had dances and parties and did not realize that it was like a party on a sinking ship. Only very few - the smart ones - liquidated their assets and tried to escape from the country. Sometimes they didn't even wait to liquidate their assets but fled immediately, going mostly to Israel or to America. But there were very few of them. The majority of the Jewish population stayed and enjoyed their lives and the security of living in a neutral state.

Life continued normally until the fifteenth of June, 1940. That was a Saturday and that afternoon we went on a trip to a nearby forest with Tante Hanna and her husband, Uncle Solomon. While we were out we heard on the radio in a cafe that the Red Army had peacefully crossed Lithuania's border and was advancing and occupying the whole country. We heard that our president, Smetona, had fled the country. Later on we found out that this occupation came about as the result of an agreement between Stalin and Hitler which gave the Baltic States to Russia in exchange for Germany getting part of Poland.

When we arrived back home that day we found that everybody was excited and nervous about what the future would bring. While walking on the main street, I met a man called Heller who was the director of the Bank of Commerce. While we discussed the situation, I got to the fact that I had two safety deposit boxes in his bank. It was late in the evening but we decided to go to the bank immediately and empty the boxes. That was a very lucky stroke for me because we had some valuables there--money and other important things that helped us very much in the future. In fact, they helped us to survive. When I got up the next morning the banks were already occupied and nobody could get anything out of them. Not only the safety deposit boxes but the deposits were seized immediately. We had an account in the Lietuvos Banka, which was the state bank. In it we had seventy thousand lits (which is equivalent to about seventy thousand dollars in today's standards). All this was seized. In the end, only five thousand lits were released to us.

The bulk of the Russian army moved in on midday Sunday. They came in with tanks and other armored vehicles. Some people greeted them with flowers, especially the leftist element which hoped to get a better deal under Soviet rule. The song of the Marxists, The Internationale, proclaiming that, "He who is nothing will be everything", was soon heard everywhere. This was the start of the Second World War for us.

Lithuania was "peacefully" occupied within a couple of days. Shortly, elections were called and everyone had to vote. As expected, ninety-nine percent of the people voted to ask the Soviet Union to make Lithuania a Soviet Republic. They had no choice as they were afraid to say no. They were afraid that unseen eyes watched everyone, even in the voting booth. Even now, after sixty years, Russian elections are much the same as they were then. There was only one candidate in every district then and this candidate belonged to the communist party. There is still only one candidate in Russian elections now. Lithuania became the Sixteenth Soviet Republic.