The Horse Adjutant Our livelihoods and freedoms were taken away. The restrictions were wearing us all down. My poor brother and sisters were wasting away, and my mom was becoming despondent. Worse, I was beginning to realize our suffering was just beginning. I tried my best to bring things for my family, and even though they were thankful, we all knew it was never enough.
1941
The greater war beyond my community was in full swing. June 1941, Germany broke the Non-Aggression Pact with Russia and began to invade in force. The rag- ing war created a perfect smokescreen for the Gestapo to begin the systematic de- struction of the Jewish community and all of its inhabitants. Mass deportations and large-scale killings started. The first murders I saw were outside the window of our home. It was my neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Bransteter. Soldiers came to their door demanding to take the furs. Be- ing from Newark, New Jersey, USA, Mrs. Bransteter did not feel she was under the same rules as the local Jews. She was an American. She waved her passport at the soldiers and pleaded, “Ich bin American.” They dragged her and her husband out and shot them both. The sound still rings in my head. They fell lifeless. My heart jumped and then sank. One night I went to the Dominican monastery in Biała Niżna. It is located near the river about 2 kilometers from my home. It was run by an ancient order of nuns who were given the property in the 19th century by its last rich landowner. I’m sure it is still there. They had a water wheel used to grind flour. I reached the monastery in the dead of night and, cautiously, knocked on the door. It was very late, so there was a long pause. The Mother Superior creaked open the door. She was equally cautious. She must have seen the desperation in my face. Without talking, she took mercy on me and gave me both flour and oatmeal. Then in parting, she warned, “Be careful, they are watching us too.” My family was eternally grateful for the kindness of these courageous nuns. The war to the East seemed to stall at our doorstep. The Germans were waging a full attack on Russia. Huge numbers of soldiers with their related war materials were engaged in the battle. Many of them passed through our town on their way to the Russian front. I remember one group of Italian troops, Nazis non-the-less, whose uniforms were clean and fancy. I distinctly remember their polished boots. A few months later I saw these same fellows again, back from the front, but this time they were stragglers, demoralized and disarmed. They were now building roads, a mere
93
Made with FlippingBook Digital Proposal Creator