Stephen Shooster 10-12 days before my rescue. It was around the same time Buna was evacuated. The city was essentially intact. It survived the bombing. Buildings still functioned, and it was bustling with people. I was in bad shape, weak, so weak, still wearing my blue and white uniform. The truck brought me to a field hospital. As soon as I arrived, I was given some fresh bread to eat. It was a wondrous thing to hold, as I began to quench my hunger. While I ate, the nurses properly washed and disinfected my wound. Before long, I was eating with two hands. A nurse saw me doing this and admonished, “Slow down, eat with only one hand.” It would take a long time to build my body weight and strength back up. The next thing they did was strip me down and scrape my back. I had a lice infes- tation on my lower back. This was a common problem almost to the level of an epi- demic. The lice can transmit typhoid fever and worse. Once my back was scraped. I was sprinkled with a strong pesticide. My old blue and white uniform was cleaned as well as possible, and given back. It would be weeks before I changed clothing again and by that time I had another infestation. At the hospital, I was safe but confused, instinctively I still felt like a prisoner, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of expecting to go back to the work camp. The feeling of freedom was new to me because I was tormented and incarcerated for so many years. It would take a while for me to relearn what it meant to be free. Those years I lost were critical growth periods. I entered the war as a child and came out a full-grown man. It would take a long time before I got used to thinking for myself. The Russians treated me kindly. When I was well enough, the Commander approached, and asked, “Son, where do you want to go?
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