Stephen Shooster
winter, the snow reached 2 meters in drifts. Once in a while, you could still hear the long guns abrasively interrupting the serenity of nature. At least I felt safe and free to roam as I pleased. I wasn’t thinking about the Polish underground, nor did I go out of the way to provoke anyone, and no one went out of their way to harass me either. It was a good feeling to be home and free, but I also felt the emptiness of the streets. My culture had disappeared, only remnants remained. While wandering around Grybow, I saw the Russians rebuilding the bridge nearby the old Roman Arch that was destroyed, and struck up a conversation with the Com- mander. His name was Captain Goodman. He was a Jew from Moscow. It was good for me to see him in a position of authority. Most of the workers on this project did not speak Russian. They were Muslim laborers, from Uzbekistan. The Commander quickly befriended me, “Son, you are the only Jew I know of that has returned so far.” Sadly, I knew none of the new storekeepers. The town seemed quiet and normal enough, but there were no longer any people in black outfits with curly hair in front of their ears holding books or praying, and the Jewish temple was desecrated. Today, 2021, 66 years later, the temple is still without windows, essentially, lost in time even though it is a beautiful brick building. I can’t help but wonder, in the good years, how the temple and the church stood side-by-side for so many years. Maybe, with a little luck, I can help restore it? One day, I took a long walk with Tadeusz. He took me to his mother’s; it was about 2 km. We walked through the town. On the way, he pointed up to the church, and I noticed the steeple was missing. He said, “A German machine gunner took up posi- tion in the steeple, and to dislodge him, the Russians blew the top off the building.” We kept walking up a hill. On the way, he pointed to a bunker. I peered inside and saw dead German soldiers. Snow surrounded the edge of the hole. The dead soldiers were in murky water. It was March, and the spring was soon to unfold. It was better in my mind to let the worms and rodents clean the bodies than to go anywhere near that stench. I took my cap off, turned my head, spit on them, and left. As I did this, I heard a Johann Strauss waltz in my head and the eerie sound of ‘Mitzen ab’ (caps off), followed by ‘arbeitskomando abtreten’ (work squad depart). I think I was the first Jew to return to Grybow. A few others trickled in after me. Our way of life was over. The Jewish community was no longer sustainable in this part of the world. Among the first to return was a group of Russian soldiers. They, too, came
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