The Schäffer family:
Melchior and Magdalena Schäffer's wedding portrait, 1925
My ancestors traveled down the Danube River during the “Maria Theresianische Ansiedlung” or the Maria Theresian Colonization somewhere between 1744-1772. The town of Filipowa, founded in 1763 is, to the best of my knowledge, the place the Schäffer family ancestors settled.
My father, Frank Schäffer was born in Filipowa, Yugoslavia on August 13, 1933. He was the fifth child born to Melchior and Magdalena (Unterreiner) Schäffer. Born before my father were Anton (1926), Josef (1928), Melchior (1929), and the only girl, Antonia (1931). My father and his family shared a house with his grandmother, Maria (Leh) Schäffer. My great grandmother Schäffer was a caterer or “kochin” and my aunt remembers the wonderful celebrations of the village. My father remembers the apple harvests and swimming in the lake outside town. Life was, as they recall, simple, with no running water or indoor plumbing. My grandfather was a rope maker. His ropes were made from the hemp that was harvested in the town. The waste from the hemp manufacturing process heated their home and stoves. Each home covered about an acre. On this acre, my grandfather ran his business and they kept animals, geese, cows, chickens and pigs. Every morning, their cow walked through the streets with the other village cows to the fields outside the village. Each evening the cows would return to their respective stalls on their own. Each family also had gardens for vegetables, fruit trees and grapes for wine making. In their cellars, they kept wine barrels to store their homemade wines. Both my Dad and aunt have fond memories of holiday celebrations in their home, such as Easter and Christmas. My father remembers the Christkind bringing their Christmas tree and the candles that would be lit on its branches and the “Krambas” that would come with a sack for all the bad children. My aunt remembers making the candies with which they would decorate the tree.
My father, Frank Schäffer was born in Filipowa, Yugoslavia on August 13, 1933. He was the fifth child born to Melchior and Magdalena (Unterreiner) Schäffer. Born before my father were Anton (1926), Josef (1928), Melchior (1929), and the only girl, Antonia (1931). My father and his family shared a house with his grandmother, Maria (Leh) Schäffer. My great grandmother Schäffer was a caterer or “kochin” and my aunt remembers the wonderful celebrations of the village. My father remembers the apple harvests and swimming in the lake outside town. Life was, as they recall, simple, with no running water or indoor plumbing. My grandfather was a rope maker. His ropes were made from the hemp that was harvested in the town. The waste from the hemp manufacturing process heated their home and stoves. Each home covered about an acre. On this acre, my grandfather ran his business and they kept animals, geese, cows, chickens and pigs. Every morning, their cow walked through the streets with the other village cows to the fields outside the village. Each evening the cows would return to their respective stalls on their own. Each family also had gardens for vegetables, fruit trees and grapes for wine making. In their cellars, they kept wine barrels to store their homemade wines. Both my Dad and aunt have fond memories of holiday celebrations in their home, such as Easter and Christmas. My father remembers the Christkind bringing their Christmas tree and the candles that would be lit on its branches and the “Krambas” that would come with a sack for all the bad children. My aunt remembers making the candies with which they would decorate the tree.
Great grandmother Schäffer with her grandchildren in Filipowa.
My father also remembers that there was a favorable image and perception of Germany in his town. Children from Germany would summer with families in their village in a summer exchange program for children who lived in the cities of Germany. “We loved Germany, it was our homeland. We followed the news of Germany. We welcomed the German soldiers when they arrived. They were visitors from home for us. No one imagined it would end the way it did.”
Serbians from outside their village would come for the fine ropes that my grandfather made. With these customers, he spoke the Serbian and Hungarian language necessary to conduct business; but within the community, only German was spoken. My aunt recalls a visit from one of my grandfather’s customers, “Above my father’s shop, we had a loft where we kept silkworms. It was one of my chores to feed these silk worms. One day, a Serbian customer came in and while conducting business with my father, told him that ‘the blood of you Germans will someday soon fill our water barrels’. I hid until he left, I was so scared. When my father found out that I had heard this, he was so white faced, shocked and upset.”
After the Nazis invaded Yugoslavia, the German army drafted Donauschwaben men from the ethnic German towns and villages of Yugoslavia. My grandfather, Melchior and his oldest son, Anton, just 17 years old, were drafted and taken from Filipowa. These men from Donauschwaben communities, were quickly sent to the most dangerous front lines of war. Unfortunately, the Nazis did not value these “Germans” as equals to native Germans and considered them expendable. As the tide of the war changed, the retreating German army advised the Donauschwaben to evacuate their homes. Although my grandmother was reluctant to leave home for fear that her husband and son would not be able to find them, my great grandmother Schäffer insisted that she take her children and leave. She insisted that nothing would happen to an old woman. She would take good care of their home and land and everyone would be able to return home soon. Her father, great grandfather Unterreiner also encouraged her to go.
Serbians from outside their village would come for the fine ropes that my grandfather made. With these customers, he spoke the Serbian and Hungarian language necessary to conduct business; but within the community, only German was spoken. My aunt recalls a visit from one of my grandfather’s customers, “Above my father’s shop, we had a loft where we kept silkworms. It was one of my chores to feed these silk worms. One day, a Serbian customer came in and while conducting business with my father, told him that ‘the blood of you Germans will someday soon fill our water barrels’. I hid until he left, I was so scared. When my father found out that I had heard this, he was so white faced, shocked and upset.”
After the Nazis invaded Yugoslavia, the German army drafted Donauschwaben men from the ethnic German towns and villages of Yugoslavia. My grandfather, Melchior and his oldest son, Anton, just 17 years old, were drafted and taken from Filipowa. These men from Donauschwaben communities, were quickly sent to the most dangerous front lines of war. Unfortunately, the Nazis did not value these “Germans” as equals to native Germans and considered them expendable. As the tide of the war changed, the retreating German army advised the Donauschwaben to evacuate their homes. Although my grandmother was reluctant to leave home for fear that her husband and son would not be able to find them, my great grandmother Schäffer insisted that she take her children and leave. She insisted that nothing would happen to an old woman. She would take good care of their home and land and everyone would be able to return home soon. Her father, great grandfather Unterreiner also encouraged her to go.
The Unterreiner family.
In October 1944, plans were made to leave. The first attempt was thwarted by my Aunt Anita (Antonia), who hid from her mother in protest of leaving behind her little dog, Bruno. My father remembers well how angry the adults were when she was found. Finally, early on the morning of October 12, 1944, my family walked away from their home. My great grandmother helped each child tie a bundle to their backs. The bundles were comprised of a rolled blanket with a few articles of clothing. In order to alleviate the burden of the animals, only a few possessions per family were allowed to be put on the covered wagon and all able bodied persons would walk. My father recalls, despite the reassurances of his grandparents that they would return soon, the guide, “stopped his horse on the outskirts of Filipowa and called to the people leaving with him to stop and take a good look as that would be the last time that they would ever see their homes.”
So began a month long trek on foot through Hungary and into Austria. My Aunt Anita remembers, “Our shoes were all handmade with leather soles and my shoes and my older brother’s shoes were good, but your father’s shoes wore out. My mother had to carry him on her back. There were no paved roads to walk on; we walked on dirt and gravel. When we were in Hungary, I remember someone told my mother that our father was in the next town. So, we turned off to see if we could find him. We entered a deserted town and I recall the smell, the people who had left this town had opened all the spigots in the wine cellars and the houses and cellars were filled with spilled wine. We were happy to see those German army soldiers from our village. They had food and cooked big pots of goulash for us. We found our father and he took your father on his back and we went through empty homes, hoping to find some shoes that he could walk in. We found some moccasin type shoes called “Batska” in Hungarian. Because my father was still part of the military, he wasn’t allowed to go on with us and we had to leave him and continue on.” My father remembers a line of wagons as far as his eyes could see. "Alongside us German tanks and trucks were retreating at a great speed. We could hear the “BOOM, BOOM” of bombs and cannons behind us as the Germans fought the Russian forces and it made us walk faster. Russian planes would fly over us, big clumsy looking planes, shooting at the retreating German army. They didn’t care that we were alongside these tanks and trucks, they just shot. The horses would panic, wagons would overturn and we would run into the woods or to the roadside. I can still hear the sounds of people screaming and crying. People died.” My aunt adds, “Afterwards, our mother would begin to frantically call our names, trying to find us.” At this moment, my aunt breaks down.
So began a month long trek on foot through Hungary and into Austria. My Aunt Anita remembers, “Our shoes were all handmade with leather soles and my shoes and my older brother’s shoes were good, but your father’s shoes wore out. My mother had to carry him on her back. There were no paved roads to walk on; we walked on dirt and gravel. When we were in Hungary, I remember someone told my mother that our father was in the next town. So, we turned off to see if we could find him. We entered a deserted town and I recall the smell, the people who had left this town had opened all the spigots in the wine cellars and the houses and cellars were filled with spilled wine. We were happy to see those German army soldiers from our village. They had food and cooked big pots of goulash for us. We found our father and he took your father on his back and we went through empty homes, hoping to find some shoes that he could walk in. We found some moccasin type shoes called “Batska” in Hungarian. Because my father was still part of the military, he wasn’t allowed to go on with us and we had to leave him and continue on.” My father remembers a line of wagons as far as his eyes could see. "Alongside us German tanks and trucks were retreating at a great speed. We could hear the “BOOM, BOOM” of bombs and cannons behind us as the Germans fought the Russian forces and it made us walk faster. Russian planes would fly over us, big clumsy looking planes, shooting at the retreating German army. They didn’t care that we were alongside these tanks and trucks, they just shot. The horses would panic, wagons would overturn and we would run into the woods or to the roadside. I can still hear the sounds of people screaming and crying. People died.” My aunt adds, “Afterwards, our mother would begin to frantically call our names, trying to find us.” At this moment, my aunt breaks down.
My father and Aunt Anita.
Finally in November, they arrived outside Vienna. Here they left behind the wagons and entered refugee camps. My aunt recalls these camps were ugly, “I remember they wanted us to sleep in these rooms filled with straw. I didn’t want to because it was all so dirty.” My father adds, “You could see the fleas and lice walking and hopping in the straw. We had no choice to go somewhere else. The smell was horrible.” They were then put into freight transport trains and moved throughout Austria and Germany as they tried to decide what to do with all the refugees. My father remembers, “Every time we arrived at another camp, we had to stand in lines and they sprayed us with white powder to try to kill the lice and fleas.” They also encountered very negative reactions from the native Germans who didn’t want these refugees in their towns, straining their already very limited resources. The defeated Germany had little for its native citizens, let alone these millions of refugees. In one of these camps, my grandmother received word that her oldest child, Anton, was killed by Russian snipers in Budapest. The news from home continued to be bad. In 1945, my great grandparents Schäffer and Unterreiner, along with many other relatives were placed in the liquidation camp of Gakowa. No one survived.
While on a transport train by Munich, they were finally reunited with my grandfather, who because of his ties with the German army, was not allowed to reenter Austria. My father and his family settled in the town of Altenmarkt, Bavaria, between Salzburg and Munich. Here my grandfather was able to find work once again as a ropemaker. This town became home. My father was enrolled in school and life returned to as normal as possible. After primary school, he apprenticed to a cabinetmaker. In 1956, he was offered the opportunity to immigrate to the United States. A woodworking firm in New York City was looking for skilled craftsman and was willing to sponser his travel. My father worked with this firm until his retirement in 1994. Today he lives in Mooresville, NC. His sister, Antonia, my Aunt Anita, resides today in Kings Park, NY. His brother, my Uncle Melchior still resides in Altenmarkt, Germany.
While on a transport train by Munich, they were finally reunited with my grandfather, who because of his ties with the German army, was not allowed to reenter Austria. My father and his family settled in the town of Altenmarkt, Bavaria, between Salzburg and Munich. Here my grandfather was able to find work once again as a ropemaker. This town became home. My father was enrolled in school and life returned to as normal as possible. After primary school, he apprenticed to a cabinetmaker. In 1956, he was offered the opportunity to immigrate to the United States. A woodworking firm in New York City was looking for skilled craftsman and was willing to sponser his travel. My father worked with this firm until his retirement in 1994. Today he lives in Mooresville, NC. His sister, Antonia, my Aunt Anita, resides today in Kings Park, NY. His brother, my Uncle Melchior still resides in Altenmarkt, Germany.