Berkeley writer recalls shattered life as hidden child

Kathryn Winter, born in 1934 into a well-off family in Bratislava, the capital of what is now Slovakia, had little time to enjoy her childhood or learn what it meant to be Jewish.

World War II interrupted and forever changed her life.

Winter reveals some of her childhood upheaval in her first novel, "Katarina." Though fictional, the recently published book recalls some of Winter's experiences as a hidden child during the war.

"My world as I knew it was destroyed," the Berkeley writer said in a recent interview.

After the war began, Winter's father, a physician, went to England to look for work. The plan was to send for his wife and two daughters, but in 1939 the borders closed.

"We thought it was a temporary madness," Winter says of the situation. "We had everything packed. We were going to follow him. It was too late."

Winter's mother converted her two daughters to Lutheranism because she felt they would be safer.

In 1942, at the age of 8, Winter was sent to live with her Aunt Lena in the country. The only Jewish child in the village, the young girl longed to join the local Hitler youth group.

"They looked so healthy, so self-confident," she said. Her Aunt Lena was an atheist and a communist, but the family's Catholic maid, Anna, taught catechism to the young Winter, and even took her to a Catholic church.

"I was totally mesmerized by the beautiful music, the incense, all the pomp. I thought Catholicism had much more to offer," she said.

Sometimes, when the Nazis would periodically invade the village searching for victims, Winter and her aunt and uncle would flee to a neighboring hamlet. There, they'd hide in a barn, paying the couple that owned it in exchange for the subterfuge.

But eventually, that arrangement fell apart.

"They did not do it out of love," Winter said of the couple. "They did it for money. When the money ran out they took [Winter's aunt and uncle] to the Gestapo."

Winter was sent to live with a peasant family who thought she was a Christian orphan.

"We were all hungry most of the time," she recalls. "We mixed flour with water, put it on the stove and ate it."

One day, the 9-year-old Winter saw a chimney sweep who knew her family. Hungry for news of them, she questioned him. The chimney sweep was a Nazi who swiftly informed the family of Winter's real identity. Ordered to leave, Winter wandered around the countryside.

"I have absolutely no recollection of how long I wandered, whether it was days or weeks," she said.

Eventually she ended up in a Protestant orphanage, where she tried to convert the other orphans to Catholicism. "I thought they would be doomed if they were not."

Winter recalls the time in the orphanage as one of "some laughter and a great deal of longing."

When the war ended in 1945, Winter was reunited with her mother and sister in Slovakia. Winter's mother had known of her whereabouts throughout the war. About a year later, her father found them through a Jewish agency that searched for refugees. They joined him in New York City, where he was living.

Winter eventually "calmed down as a Catholic. I realized that no matter what I think, I am considered Jewish by everyone else."

The prospect of a Jewish state was very exciting to Winter. While attending Music and Art High School in New York City she joined Hashomer Hatzair, a Zionist organization.

She still recalls her first meeting in the basement of a Bronx building.

"I was so moved by the fact that Jewish children were singing Hebrew songs and dancing Israeli dances, that they weren't ashamed of being Jews. It was overwhelming. I expected troopers to come in. I thought it was so dangerous to be doing this."

Winter became an "ardent Zionist" and in 1968 made aliyah. She lived in Israel for 13 years.

"I loved Jerusalem -- its light and its smell. It smelled of pine trees and olive trees and [there were] the sounds of various church bells and the Muslim call to prayer, the chants from the synagogue. It was a very vibrant existence."

Today, she teaches piano and writes. Her short stories have been published in the journals Madison Review and Stories.

"Katarina" is intended for readers ages 10 and up. Told from the child's point of view, the story poetically captures both her confusion and defiant optimism.

"[I wanted to] write about the experience of a hidden child who suddenly had her world shattered and didn't understand what was happening," she said.