The Horse Adjutant Even though most days were uneventful, it didn’t take more than a few such inci- dents to realize how dangerous this whole experience was. One day, I was directed to drive over to the Gestapo headquarters and pick up two officers. They introduced themselves, as officers Grunow and Kastura. The first thing they said to me was in the form of a command, “Take off the arm- band,” after a pause they continued, “Whenever you take us anywhere, never wear that armband.”
I asked him, “How can I do that? I might be stopped by the Gestapo.” He laughed, “We are the Gestapo. Only we will know you are Jewish.”
I took off my armband as I was told. I was glad to take it off. At first driving, them was not so bad. They seemed to like me, too. Frequently, they would ask me to take them to the nightclub on Krakauer Street. Sometimes they asked me to wait for them. Outside the club, I kept busy talking to people, grooming the horse, and seeing if I could scrounge up a little food; usually, I could do all three. I will never forget one trip with Grunow and Kastura. I arrived to pick them up on time. My horse was groomed and carriage polished. My armband was in my coat pocket. They got in the carriage. Their faces looked serious. Without speaking where to go, we rolled away from Gestapo headquarters. Normally, they would give me a des- tination and expect I knew how to get there, but this time it was different. I was only given specific directions. Turn left, go to the end, and turn right. Eventually, we ended up in front of a building. The sign read, ‘Leather Goods.’ I waited, as they both went inside with a deliberate stride. They came out with two young girls. The girls were well-dressed, but their faces were red. I could not imagine what they may have done to deserve the involvement of the Gestapo, nor would I be so bold as to ask. Still speaking with as few words as possible they gestured to the girls to sit on the two hard seats of the carriage across from theirs. The girls did as they were told. They were directly behind me. I felt uneasiness from everyone. I still didn’t know why, but something serious must have happened. I started my horse and, again, without giving me a destination they just gave me directions, “Right here. Left there.” I was puzzled about where they wanted to go until I found myself on the street that led to the Jewish cemetery. I had a feeling this was going to be tragic. But, if I were to do anything to reveal my personal abhorrence, they wouldn’t hesitate to include me in whatever they were up to. I let my horse do the work and kept my wits clear even though my heart was racing. The girls said nothing. The gate was open as if they were expecting us. We rode inside the entrance, and in what seems today to feel like slow motion, the
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