The Horse Adjutant Information about where the collaborators could be found came from many sources, including anonymous letters sent to the local police station. I reported to the town of Greenberg to help them root out the Nazis. My job was to go house by house and look for anything out of the ordinary. If we found anything -- documents, contraband, or people -- we were to bring them back to headquarters. My captain was Zamorfsky. He was a Jew. When I arrived, the people were happy to see me. I was yearning for justice. As they pointed out collaborators and bandits, I caught up with them, and did my own assessment, arresting the ones who fit the profile or were blatantly against the new regime. I was pleased with my work and happy to help set up a new governing administration. A survivor, who introduced himself as Mr. Holzer, pleaded for my help, “I am from Nowy-Sacz.” I listened intently. He was from a town near Grybow. He continued, “I survived with my three brothers. We hid with the help of a courageous couple.” I thought of my old friend, Tadeusz, knowing exactly the kind of person he was referring to. “Recently, I tried to go back to my old home, and the fellow who was living there threatened to kill me if I returned. All I wanted was my horse and a wagon so that I could start over. I wasn’t even trying to take my house back. Can you help me?” I ac- cepted the mission. I did not follow through with proper written authorization from my Commander. I figured I could go there and be back before I would be missed. So I decided I was going to do this on my own. Not completely, however, as I enlisted the aid of two of my fellow soldiers. They volunteered readily. Together, the four of us went back to this man’s hometown. As we got closer, I passed through my own memories. This was familiar ground, close to my own home. Those were my mountains off in the distance. I thought of my own family whenever my mind wandered, but it did not take much to jog me back to reality. We arrived at the fellow’s old farm; it was the height of Winter. I remember the snow and the cold. Upon arrival, I went directly to the front door, flanked by my fellow soldiers. We were an imposing lot. Mr. Holzer stood behind us. I knocked on the door. Confronting the occupant, I introduced myself, and said politely, “Do you intend to give back this farm to its original and proper owner?” Just as the farmer told me, he said, “No, I will kill him if he returns.” With this, I took a breath and held my gun tightly. The two soldiers bristled as well. He clearly saw our impatience. Speaking with unmistakable conviction, I said, “If you harm this man in any way, I will come back and shoot you myself.” Since I had no written authority for my being there in the first place, my recourse was thin, but I could not stand there and do nothing. I was deadly serious, and he knew it.
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