The Horse Adjutant the Jewish prisoners that, even though we have little to eat, to save something to give to these poor starving brothers. Compared to what Moshe K. had been through and the prisoners on the other side of the road, I was quite free. It didn’t take long before I understood that the kapo makes all the individual assignments. He told me that when I arrived with my fine horse, he wanted to give him to his brother, but Strybuc warned him in that short conversation before I got my assignment, “If you make any changes to the Kommandant’s orders regarding this horse or his assistant, you will be shot.” Strybuc didn’t talk much, but whatever Blache wrote in that letter got translated to him that only I was to take care of Maciek. I knew life here could not last for long, but I hoped, maybe, the war would be over before I would have to leave. With only one thing keeping me alive I kept that horse cleaner than a person, certainly, better than I could clean myself. I had a vexing problem. Maciek had never been ridden before; he was a carriage horse. Now, he was supposed to be saddled with the Kommandant as his rider, and I was to make sure this would happen. Yet, every time I put a saddle on him, he bolted, and after he was spooked, it took a while to calm him down. I guess I learned some- thing from my grandfather because I coaxed and teased him with bricks of sugar. Even- tually, it worked, and the horse allowed the Kommandant to ride him. From that point forward, Maciek became his personal horse. After the war, I learned Grzimek took that horse to Krakow, and then later to Plaszow. But, for me right then and there, I felt as long as I took care of Maciek, I was safe. It turned out to be eight weeks. One day I was walking Maciek, when my old neighbor, Tadeusz Skrabski, happened to drive by in his carriage. He was on his way to the Jasło Jarmark to trade horses. Rid- ing with him were some SS officers who most likely wanted his expertise in choosing the best animals. His hand was still wrapped in bandages. When he saw me working that beautiful horse, he could not believe his eyes and had to stop to say ‘hello.’ He got out of the carriage, and walked to an area on the road above me, as the place was on a hill. Just by stopping, he was in great danger. The guardhouse was watching us closely. The Ukrainian guards were pointing their rifles at Tadeusz. I wondered what his Nazi guests must have thought as they watched him stop to talk to a prisoner. I can only imagine the beauty and size of my horse must have mesmerized all of them. We spoke briefly. He was glad to see me, and I was glad to see him too. By the end of our short conversation, he gave me a small measure of hope promising to bring me food every week. Then, somehow, he slipped me some money. It was 500 Zlotys, a large number on a single bill. I was glad to see him, being someone so close to my family. And for
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