Faith | A father born in a Nazi concentration camp had this wisdom for his Tri-Cities son
Freedom. Not one single day. Instead, endless hours of terror and deprivation in a Nazi concentration camp, the birthplace for this Ukraine Jew.
“My father—his name is Andrew—had only a few memories up until age 5,” Adam Hrebeniuk of Kennewick said as he thought back on his family’s history during World War II. “He remembers standing in the work camp area and looking through the wires at a kid his age in the death camp, being carted off to the gas chambers.”
It was the only life this small child had ever known. Prior to his birth the Nazis had invaded Kiev in 1941 where his mother—like thousands upon thousands of other Jews—was herded with her four children into an open railroad car, her husband and also her father sent elsewhere.
“She was sick, standing for days in the train,” Adam said about the agonizing winter ride, one that evoked a desperate cry for help in the packed car, foul with death.
“My grandmother called out to God, ‘I’m going to die if I don’t have a covering!’ And all of a sudden, a tarp from two cars ahead flew off and landed perfectly on theirs—and it stayed there,” the first of what she believed was divine intervention.
But to what end had Andrew’s mother and children been saved? Adolf Hitler was set on conquering all of Russia and annihilating the Jews, there and in all of Europe. By war’s end, millions of Jewish men, women and children—whole communities—would be extinguished; newborn infants killed.
The future seemed bleak, and yet this mother held onto her faith. Unknown to the young woman, her husband had found unexpected favor.
“My grandfather (Andrew’s father) used to draw the backdrops for the Bolshoi ballet in Kiev,” Adam said about the talent that attracted German officers who wanted their portraits painted. “He told them, ‘If I’m going to do art for you, don’t kill my child (Andrew) when he is born,’” adding that he also wanted his family housed together in that camp, adjacent to the killing camp.
Already an older sister had been executed as a toddler, but Andrew was spared upon birth in the Parshen, Germany, labor camp, the smell and threat of death hanging in the air.
The war years dragged on. The child grew despite harsh conditions. Then one day, word came that the war was over. The Americans were coming. Still, cruelty had time to taunt the 5-year-old Jew.
“He had managed to find a potato,” Adam said about the scene unfolding, a vivid memory for young Andrew. “A German officer walked up to him, ‘You’re the lucky one eating a potato. Let’s see if it’s really your lucky day,’ and then proceeded to play Russian roulette with the potato on the child’s head. The bullet didn’t fire and he got to eat his potato.”
Spared once more.
Finally, the vicious wire gates opened. Freedom lay just beyond the expansive field. The U.S. military waited on the edge of the forest ready to welcome the concentration camp’s victims stumbling toward them. But in the prisoners’ panic to get away, the Nazis shot as they ran toward liberty. The Americans returned fire from the other side.
“My grandma (Andrew’s mother) remembers running across with their children and all the shooting around her. I don’t understand how they weren’t hit,” Adam said, retelling the horrific scene as survivors were struck down in flight. “They got to a location where you weren’t supposed to cross, a zone of some kind. She looked into an American officer’s eyes and said a silent prayer, ‘God I need to get into the forest and to the other side!’”
Life hung in the balance.
Suddenly, disregarding the rules, the soldier reached across the divide and pulled the family to safety, his commanding officer swearing at his disobedience. Onward the tiny band fled to a checkpoint where they and other refugees were setup in makeshift shelters.
“My dad’s first happy memory is being in a tent in the American camp and a photographer snapping pictures while kids were writing,” Adam said, reflecting on how Andrew had never held a pencil or had any kind of paper.
Weeks passed in the refugee camp until one day their new “normal” changed. Refugees were going to be moved.
“An American soldier told my grandfather to get into a line,” Adam said, how Andrew’s dad worried about being separated from his family. “He asked, ’Can my kids come?’ but the soldier didn’t speak the foreign language.”
Some refugees were chosen for a different line and sent back to Russia where they were seen as traitors, many executed. But young Andrew’s family was able to stay together and placed on a waiting ship—one headed to Ellis Island and freedom.
Providence once again had intervened.
In the years ahead, the little boy, Andrew, who once only knew limits, found success and freedom in America as a grown man—a freedom he wanted his young son, Adam, to recognize.
“He’d bend down on one knee,” said Adam as he remembered his father’s words—a father who was a daily example of trust in Christ. “And he’d say, ‘You can be whatever you want to be. Don’t waste your freedom.’”
That son listened. Today, Adam Hrebeniuk is a church pastor leading others to a different kind of freedom through faith—very possibly an answer to his late grandmother’s long ago prayer and the wisdom of his father.
Lucy Luginbill is a Tri-City Herald columnist in national distribution, religion editor and retired public television producer and host. Her popular Light Notes column reflects inspirational and faith-focused stories. She’s been working in journalism for more than 30 years. @LucyLuginbill or lluginbill@tricityherald.com.
