Stephen Shooster
shadow of their former glory. And around the same time, in December, I saw a newspaper from Krakow. Head- lines reported, ‘Nazis Winning in the War with Russia.’ This was in contrast to what I saw. Instead, they had retreated about 500 kilometers. But, we were still well with- in the German occupation zone. The war was unmistakably very close to home. I could hear the big guns in the distance day and night. The resort nearby in Krynica became a hospital. Trains arrived in Grybow full of wounded soldiers. I saw soldiers broken and bandaged. Many were taken to Krynica for recovery. All Jews and Gypsies from the surrounding countryside were forced into the Gry- bow ghetto. The Gestapo was no longer satisfied with just putting all the town’s Jews in the ghetto. Now they wanted all the outcasts of the new regime included. We took in some of these new hapless people. We had so little, but still, we were will- ing and able to share. People were sleeping in every nook and cranny of our humble home. The attic up the stairs made room for two or three families, the bedrooms were overfilled, and the main family room was crowded. You could hardly walk around. We had at least eight extra people to sleep and feed. But, no matter what, we could not let them sleep outside or starve to death. In spite of our own miserable condition, I was sent by foot to gather a few more people and bring them to our home. I looked for my grandfather’s youngest brother, Bernard, and his family. They lived in a very remote area about 20 kilometers away, and like all the other country people were given an order to leave their homes and move to the ghetto. I made my way through the backwoods. It took me about four hours to get close. Along the way, I had no fear of the Gestapo, but I was on high alert for wild animals, especially wolves. I heard their howling the whole time I was walking, and I knew if they found me I would not be able to do very much. I was defenseless against these organized marauders. I keep up the pace while trying to concentrate on anything but wolves. I knew the backwoods, but this was a new area for me, and I became lost. It is easy to get disoriented in the woods. I knew I was going in the correct general direction, but that was about it. I also knew that, no mat- ter what, I could not allow myself to get caught out there alone at night; it would be dangerous. So, I kept moving and luckily, stumbled upon a peasant. He knew where I needed to go and pointed for me to go over the next mountain ridge to the small town of Piorunka; it was directly on the border of Slovakia. I knew I had arrived when I saw a store with a sign that read proudly in Ukrainian lettering, ‘Cooperativa Schagrin.’ It was my grand uncle’s general store and home. By the time I reached him, his carriage was packed with all of his belongings, and
94
Made with FlippingBook Digital Proposal Creator