Stephen Shooster Chapter Six My Maciek
The train took us to Moderowka station on the last day of August 1943. When the train stopped and the door opened to the cattle car, I carefully led Maciek out of the closed space. Standing for a moment, we waited for the two guards to direct us. They pointed us towards the camp and we walked about 3 kilometers to the hill next to the main east-west roads. They brought us directly to the headquarters of Szebnie where we met the Kommandant of the Ukrainian guards Grzimek and his assistant Keller- man (the same Kellerman that saved the Volkman family). Grzimek was pleased to see Maciek. He made for a stunning introduction. Grzimek was being handed a prize, this giant horse, and he knew it. He looked at him carefully and liked what he saw. We were also there, of course, but mostly part of the scenery. He did greet us, but it was more to check our general state. He was more interested in checking the horse than anything else. He was able to quickly pick up on what everyone already knew -- Ma- ciek was bonded to me. A few minutes passed as he read the letter. Half-starved with my well-fed horse, Moshe Blauner and I stood awaiting our fate. The Kommandant turned to Kellerman, obviously pleased with the handsome horse and then to us. He said something to Kellerman. After they spoke, Kellerman immediately summoned the Staff Sergeant. Staff Sergeant Strybuc arrived smoking his pipe. He was about 40 with a distinctive mustache. Grzimek ordered him to take the horse and us to the stable. The stable was a white brick building located on the opposite side of the road from the main camp. The camp held about 3,000 Jewish prisoners. The stable, however, was nothing like a prison. It had about 20 people working there, and only a few were Jews. As we arrived, I got my first impressions of this combined place; it was a concentration camp. I had heard about these but never seen one before. Within the confines, I saw Jews from many different places and Jewish policemen who stood out from the general popula- tion but were also prisoners. The camp was so close to the stable that once in a while I heard Russian style of music, and because of this, I knew that Ukrainians must be running it. Sergeant Strybuc walked with us to the stable. On the way, he was admiring Maciek. Upon arrival, he released us into the hands of our new kapo, Leon Feigenbaum, the fellow in charge of the stable. We stood at attention while the kapo spoke to Strybuc. The kapo then directed me, while pointing, “Take the horse to that pen and stay with him.” A little later he explained, “Your job is to prepare this horse for the Kommandant
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