INTRODUCTION
It isn't easy to
write about those turbulent years that went by then. It isn't easy to
resurrect the people, the pictures in my imagination, recreate the whole
climate and scenarios of those times. I tried it many times and somehow
always put down my pen with a sigh of helplessness. How to write about
the experiences that you like to forget?
But memories follow
you around everywhere throughout your life and you cannot shake them off.
Sometimes through the darkness of the sleepless night people that I knew then,
that I suffered with, fought with, drank with, shared the most scary
experiences with and the most intimate thoughts come and stand by so vivid in
my imagination that I have an impression that the image is reality.
Through the " mind's eyes" I see the places where we went by, the
faces of people, they come out of the darkness and seem to be so close...
There are two
reasons for writing this memoirs: one, the most important, is that I want
you, my dear children, to know more about the past of your parents, how and
what we went through before we found peace and security and freedom in this new
country of ours. The other is equally important. There has been a
lot written about atrocities committed on the Jews during the WWII. There
is a good reason for these writings. Things like that cannot be ever
repeated again. The crimes that the Nazis did are hair raising. I
do not believe in a communal responsibility but in this case the entire German
nation should take the blame. They simply did not do anything to prevent
it. They were happy to profit from the fruits of the conquests of the
other nations and were dancing on the their graves. But there were other
holocausts that nobody wants to talk about. Think of the thousands of
Gypsies that were murdered by the Nazis. Nobody speaks for them.
And think about millions of Poles that were killed by both Germans and
Russians. Proportionally,
But this is exactly
why I am writing about. I want to give a testimony of what happened and
how did it
happen.
As you know, there
was a lot of talk about the World War II in our house. This is
understandable. Under "normal" conditions, a soldier, or a
civilian, if he or she was not permanently disabled, after the war could return
to his or her previous environment and resume a normal life. In our case
it was different. We did not have any place to go to. There was no place
to go to. Our towns were all ruined or in a foreign country, under
a regime that we knew only too well. When I saw for the first time
the ruins of
Both of us, your
mother and I were deported when we were practically children: your mother at
the age of 10 and I at the age of almost 16 (I was deported on June 21, 1941
and my birthday is on July 25). The war ended in 1945 but we did not
resume our "normal" lives for a long time due to the fact that we
were in various camps as "displaced persons." So, we went
through our childhood, teens, and even early adulthood being tossed by the circumstances
all over the world. That certainly left its trace on our lives later.
Your mother was
deported with her mother and brother to
I was deported on
That is the overview
of our times during the war. No wonder that the war stays with us for the
rest of our lives and you hear about it all the time. But I am supposed
to give you a more detailed account of the events, so it is time to begin.
This is going to be
unrehearsed tale of our past, the most factual that I can make it, without
exaggeration, just the way it was. Perhaps we will get bored by it but
sometimes maybe you will take your time and go through these pages. Well
where shall I start from? My childhood?
I CHILDHOOD
My childhood was
relatively happy. My father a railroad physician, wasn't very rich, but
at same time we were not very poor. I could say that we were in the
category of middle class by the contemporary
Our house was loaded
with all kinds of books: medical, (my mother was a graduate midwife) historical
etc. I was an avid reader. At age 10 I started to devour books.
Sometimes I would get a heavy volume (400 pages) from the library and in
one afternoon and evening I would finish it. I developed a passion for
all kinds of books and different countries. By the age of 14 I was
familiar with classical literature of
WAR:
In summer September
1939, we knew that the war with
I don't think that I
realized the meaning of what was happening. I didn't appreciate the vast
number of people will that be affected by the war. Somehow, it did not
come to my consciousness. The grownups were talking about it and I could
see that they were very concerned about it but I just didn't appreciate this.
Soon after the first
days of September things started to happen. We could see that the war
wasn't going well for
I think it was on
the tenth or twelfth of September that we stayed over night in one house in the
field when it was evident that the war was close. We could hear firing of
machine guns, throughout the night. Next morning we went home and the
Germans were already in the area. The Germans didn't stay in Brzesc
long. On the seventeenth of September the first Soviet troops entered the
city and the German troops retreated beyond the Bug river.
UNDER RUSSIAN
OCCUPATION
The changes took
place gradually but steadily. First two of our four room apartment were
taken up by a Russian doctor who came and took over the dispensary and the
clinic. Then my father started to complain that the new doctor in charge
is harassing him for all kinds of reasons. Then finally the confrontation
came when she asked my father to carry coal from the truck to the shed.
My father considered this kind of a job below his professional status and
refused. He was dismissed for insubordination. We moved to a small,
one room apartment which my parents rented. At that time there was only
three of us: my parents and myself. I really jumped ahead. Let's
start from the beginning.
Soon after the
Russians entered Brzesc, the remnants of Polish army began to wander around the
town. It was a pitiful sight. Soldiers in their uniforms, unshaven,
hungry, confused, not knowing where to go and what to do with themselves, were
wondering all over the area, asking for food, directions, information. I
will never forget on Sunday, when we were coming out of the church, a soldier
crying in front of the people saying that he was ashamed of what he was doing
but he was hungry and had to overcome his pride and asked for food.
Wladek, who was with me, invited him to come to our house, we fed him, gave him
some food on his way and he left. This was very depressing. But before
the war my father foreseeing the future, that there will be scarcity of food,
bought two big sacks of flour; one white and the other rye. This was our
main diet: "kluski" three times a day. My mother designated one
room as a "hostel" for the refugees civilians or soldiers. Many
a time somebody went to town to get something either for my parents or my
brother or sister and came in a company of a stranger: guest for the
night. How many people went through our house I don't know but I am sure
that there were many. There were all kinds of people: refugees from
western parts of
In the "hostel-
room" there were mattresses made of straw on the floor and the
"guests" were sleeping one next to the other. Three times a day
there was a feeding time: members of the family were treated the same way as
the guests in the "hostel": "kluski" (dumplings) with
milk. Mother had a big kettle and it was like in the army ‑
everybody had to stay in line to get his fill.
Meantime trains
loaded with ex‑Polish soldiers captured by the Russians were passing
through Brzesc towards east. On such occasions, my father would put a red
cross armband on his jacket and used to go through the trains to see if there
were sick or wounded. Usually he was accompanied by a Russian
soldier. Sometimes, when the soldier would not see or was further away my
father would leave the door open and a group of railroad men were
waiting. At an opportune moment they would let the prisoners
out. Everything was arranged, there were places where they could go to be
fed and given directions where to go. I wanted go with my father on his visits
to the trains but he never let me.
One night somebody
knocked at the door. My father answered: it was a railroad man. He
said that Wladek, who was called up as a reserve lieutenant to the army, is at
the Central Station and sent a message to us that he was being held prisoner
and he wants to see us. I should mention, that three members of our
family were called up: Wladek, Piotrek and Adam, Andzia's husband. We, my
mother, father and everybody asked of any news about any of them. One
soldier said that he saw Lt. Lipinski, who was heavily wounded, dying and was
calling others to kill him because he could not stand the pain any
longer. Of course everybody in our family was very upset and we had
Wladek for dead. So when the railroad man reported that Wladek was alive
and well we were all stirred up. We were all happy to know that he is
alive, but there was a concern how to get him out of there. It was about
2:00 AM. We knew that the Russians are taking our soldiers, specially
officers, to prison camps in Siberia. At that time we did not know what
fate was awaiting them (the mass graves in Katyn forests were discovered in
1943), but we knew that they are not going to have a good time there. My
father and Janka, took quickly some food, warm clothing and went to the Central
Station to give Wladek at least something for his long journey to Russia.
When they arrived there, they found out that the railroad men went to the
Russian Officer‑in‑Charge of the Station and pleaded with him that
because my father was so good to the working class, railroad employees etc., to
release his son, Wladek, out to freedom. When my father asked the Russian
to allow him to see his son who is a prisoner of war the Russian answered:
"Because you supported the working people I will free your
son". My father didn't believe his ears... They quickly took
Wladek with him home. There was a lot of crying (of joy of course)
kissing and embracing. We welcomed him as if he was coming from the
grave.
About two days later
a man came to our house. It was Wladek schoolmate whom he met while being
taken prisoner: Lt. Jerzy Roszkowski. It just happen that when Wladek and
Janka were going to "gimmazjum" i.e., high school, Jerzy Roszkowski
and his brother were their classmates. So our families knew each other
well. It was in town Lomza. Now, when Wladek met him, while they
were held at the Brzesc Central station, he told him that my father is a railroad
physician, gave him our address and told him that if he can somehow escape from
the Russians he will be taken care of. So, there he was. But what a
sight!... He was all covered with the ashes. He had a pair of horseback
riding pants which were too tight, so he somehow put several safety pins in his
fly to keep his pants on. His underwear was sticking out from his fly in
a very embarrassing way. His jacket made out of a kind that diplomats
used to wear with the tails cut off. On the head he had a beret and he
also had some coat. It was a pitiful sight. Of course, first he got
a thorough scrubbing and washing and then he told his story: he escaped from
the column of the prisoners and went to the first house he could find and said:
"I am a Polish officer, please help me". It happened that he
came to a baker who hid him in one of the ovens that was full of ashes.
It was still hot but he did not complain. He spent there one night and in
the morning Russian soldiers came for bread. He heard them talking but
they did not look inside the oven. The baker gave him some clothing and
this was it.
As soon as the
matters have settled somehow Wladek and Jerzy Roszkowski started to plan their
journey to France, where as the news were reaching us, the volunteers
from all over the world were organizing Polish army. Wladek's situation
under the Reds was very dangerous, because as a judge he was considered to be
an enemy of the proletariat. As soon as they would find out about his
position he would be arrested and that would be the end of him. We were
waiting all the time for England and France to start some fighting with the
Germans but as history named it right, this was the period of
"sitz-krieg" or sitting war. They didn't move one finger
against the Krautzes, they were just sitting and watching Poland going to
hell.
Well, Wladek and
Jerzy were planning to make their way through Romania, Yugoslavia, Italy and to
France. Since Jerzy's wife was from the region of Poland (Lwów) which was
near the Romanian border, they agreed that he will go there first and find out
through his in-laws what is the best way to cross the border to Romania.
Romania at this time was neutral country, not occupied by the Germans.
After doing all the preparations he was going to notify Wladek and they were to
go together on their way to France.
So, in late October
he left. Several weeks passed it was already getting cold and Wladek was
concerned that in winter it will be more difficult to cross the border, through
Carpathian Mountains to Romania. Since no news were coming from Jerzy,
Wladek decided to go to Warsaw first, and then on his own to Hungary or Romania
and then to France. So he left, it must have ben already in
November. Then, there was a terrible period of waiting and then, I
remember, just about Christmas, a telegram came in French: "Je suis en bon
sante, je vous salute‑ Wladek". (I am in good health, I salute
you, Wladek). I will never forget this text. We still didn't know
where was it sent from ‑ France or anywhere else, but at least we knew
that he was well and alive. Years later, when I met him in England, he
told me that he went to Warsaw, found that his apartment was intact, and went
through the "green frontier" (illegally) to Hungary. There he
was interned, as thousands of other Polish refugees. But the Polish
government in exile from France, arranged with the Hungarian authorities that
there were ways to smuggle Polish officers through Yugoslavia and Italy to
France. There, he tried to join the Polish forces, but since France was
at that time on the verge of collapse, he was taken by a British ship to
England and he joined the Polish Paratroop Brigade there.
Meanwhile, Tadek was
going to the Technical High School. Something was happening that we
didn't quite understand. Suddenly, some strange guys started to come to
visit him, he started to arrange "parties" that nobody of the
household was allowed to attend; it looked strange. One time, I remember,
he came to the dinning room, took a crucifix from the wall and went back to the
other room where the "party" was in progress. Another time he
asked me to stay outside of the house and report to him if there was anybody
hanging around while they had a "party". I realized that
something is going on and wanted to get in the act but Tadek had his lips
sealed and they didn't let me know anything. But soon other things took
place: Tadek's friends started to be arrested by the Reds in great
numbers. It was evident that somebody in the Technical High school did
denounce to the Soviets about the "parties" which was nothing else
but a poorly camouflaged anti-Soviet organization. Soon the news
broke that it was a Soviet provocation: they sent somebody to organize these
boys and then when they had them all accounted for they picked them out like
chicken. At that time my father realized that there is no time to lose;
he took Tadek on a side and had "man-to-man" talk. Tadek
confessed that he participated in an organization and he was pretty scared that
any night he himself could be arrested. My parents decided to send him to
our relatives in Lomza. Sure enough, two or three nights after Tadek
left, the ring at the door rang and a voice of one of our family friends asked
to open the door. When my father opened the door there were three Soviets: an
officer and two soldiers, NKVD. NKVD stands for Narodnyj Commissariat of
Vnutrennych Diel, The National Commissariat of Internal Affairs.
This was the precursor of the KGB, the most hated and feared military
police. In order to have an access to somebody's home they used the
following trick: take somebody whom the prospective arrestee would trust and
ask him to go with them, to knock on the door etc. This way they did not
cause any suspicion that they are coming to arrest anybody and avoid the risk
that he or she could escape. In our case they took along one of our friends, a
railroad employee. They asked where is Tadek‑ my father, of course,
told them that he didn't know:‑
"You know, this
young generation, they come and go whenever they please."
Meanwhile, when they
were at our house, they searched the apartment, took a camera, some silver
coins and left. Fortunately, they didn't find our radio which was hidden
in a wardrobe behind linens which we used to listen to the BBC from
London.
They asked my father
to go with them, we already thought that he is going for good. But after
about five hours he came back. They questioned him about Tadek, asked all
kinds of questions, asked to spy on the others etc. I think that the fact
that my father had good reputation among railroad workers contributed to the
relatively good treatment that he received from the Soviets.
After that the Soviets called up father couple of times for investigation but
always let him go after couple of hours. At that time Wladek was already
gone so we were with my parents, Andzia with Leszek and her baby, Ziutek, and
my sister Janka.
One morning Anna's
husband came. He was captured by the Soviets but somehow as a
noncommissioned officer (he was a sergeant) he was released. They were
mainly after the officers, whom they were going to kill later on (see Murder of
the Katyn Forest). Soon after Adam (Andzia's husband) came they left for
Lomza where they were living before the war.
Meanwhile, the
Germans were accepting the refugees from the central part of Poland which was
now General Government, i.e., sort of German colony. The western part of
Poland i.e., Slask, Poznan and Pomorze were incorporated into the Reich.
The central part of Poland, west of the river Bug and east of the three above
provinces were General Government. The eastern Poland, east of the river
Bug, was occupied by the Russians.
Soon the news came
of the repressions in the General Government started and the atrocities beyond
description. That is well documented in books of history of the WWII, so
I will skip it here. In spite of that, Tadek, Janka, and Andzia with her
children and husband decided to go on the German side. To be eligible for
repatriation it was necessary to demonstrate that one was a
"Volksdeutch", i.e., of German origin, or that he or she was a
resident of some place presently under German occupation. Tadek got false
papers as Andrzej Rzemek. Rzemek was a student in Lomza but lived before the
war in Myszyniec, where I was born, town which was now under Germans.
Jerzy Roszkowski's brother, teacher at Lomza high school, stole his papers for
Tadek from the files. The transfer point for the repatriation to the German
occupation was in Brzesc, so we had an opportunity to see them go "on the
other side". We all went to the Brzesc Central, where they were
waiting for transportation to Warsaw and spent with them the few precious hours
before their departure. We did not know that next time we see each other
will be after the war. For fear of being recognized by somebody in Brzesc
(he was on "wanted list" Tadek dyed his hair, and tried to avoid
public exposure as much as possible. Tadek wrote from Warsaw later, that
one of the Russian officials in Brzesc was his ex-class mate. He
apparently recognized him but only smiled and let him go. They all left
and I remained with my parents. Soon after that my father was dismissed
from work and we moved to a single room apartment as I mentioned earlier.
That year, 1939/40,
I didn't go to school. Somehow, everything was disorganized and I missed
that year. We always waited that something is going to change, that
France and England will finally start fighting, that everything will be O.K.
But nothing changed. We listened to the news from the BBC, about the
Battle of Britain, about the war between Finland and the Soviets and of course
about German atrocities in Poland. Everybody was concerned about the ours
in Warsaw.
Meanwhile, the Russians
started mass deportations of Poles to Siberia. In the first group went
all settlers farmers who were given land in the eastern part of Poland after
the World War I. Usually they were veterans of the World War I or the
veterans of the 1919/20 war with the Soviets when they invaded Poland and then
were defeated in 1920.
The first transports
left for Siberia in February 1940. Next mass deportation was in April
1940 and that is when your mother was deported with Babcia and Bebe.
Dziadzia Kupczyk fled the Russians to Latvia and was there arrested by the Reds
when they invaded that country. I don't know if there were any other
transports of Poles to Siberia in 1940/41. As I mentioned before,
sometime in 1940, my father was discharged from work and we moved to a small
apartment in Brzesc. My father's financial situation wasn't that bad
because many railroad men knowing my father called him rather than the Russian
woman doctors and of course they paid him. So my father was very
busy. I don't know how long could this last, because in Soviet Russia
there was no such thing as private practice, but at least when we were in
Poland we were not hungry.
In 1940/41 session I
started to go to school. The school was reorganized in the Soviet
fashion, i.e., they made 10 grades instead of our 6‑elementary, 4 years
of junior and 2 years of "lyceum" (senior) high school. In
spite of the fact that I finished first year of "gimnazjum" (or 6th
grade) they put me again in the 6th grade of the Soviet school. I considered
that this was below my status of an ex‑high school student but there was
nothing I could do. The teaching was in Polish with the Polish teachers,
but they introduced Russian language, German language (Germany were Soviet's
ally) and the syllabus was modeled upon the schools in Russia. I remember
the history was taught by an officer of NKVD, of Polish origin, hundred
percent communist. In our history lesson every historic event was due to
a struggle of classes. Everything was as Marks and Engels predicted or
set out in their "Capital". This was my first encounter with
the communist line of thinking. Of course, everything was according to
the Russian rules. I remember, on the Easter Monday, usually a holiday in
Polish schools as well as offices and in general, day free of work we had to go
to school. As a sign of our protest, somebody brought a bottle of vodka
and during the lunch time we drunk it. The teachers, Polish teachers,
understood. We used to get together with Heniek Olendzki and Zbyszek
Pietras and talk about the times when we will have a chance to fight the Reds,
chase them out of our country.
When I think about
these times I cannot help not to smile. These were such childish
dreams. But then we took them very seriously and if something did happen
that we had a chance to fight I am sure we would go.
In school there was
heavy anti-religious propaganda. Every so often we had to go to those
meetings where they ridiculed religion in every possible way. In place of
religion the Soviets would substitute their communism. They used such
tricks as for example they would ask a small child:
"Do you want a
candy?"
"Yes, I
do" - child would say
Soviet: "Ask
God to give you some".
Of course, there was
no candy.
The Soviet would then
say : "Well, now ask Comrade Stalin for a candy."
Naturally, when the
child asked Comrade Stalin for a candy it would get it.
They ridiculed the
clergy, the liturgy, everything that was connected with religion. Of
course, we did not want to go to these meetings but they were mandatory.
We were
indoctrinated in the communist theory every day. Now, in perspective of
time I can understand why when Stalin died people were hysterical with grief in
spite of being aware of the atrocities that were committed by the regime.
No matter how incredible it can be, anybody can be indoctrinated in believing
into something if it is repeated long enough. The same could be observed
in Germany. There, the entire nation of "civilized" people, who
produced such outstanding giants of humanity as Beethoven and Goethe, was lead
to believe that they were the master race. And yet, they could commit
crimes against other human beings that are beyond the wildest
imagination. And the communist theory looks great on paper. Marx
combined Hegel's historical dialectic with a materialist view of reality.
Hegel philosophy was based on historical dialectic which postulates that
every condition contains a contradiction, which evolution must resolve by a
reconciling unity. So, all historical events, any political system
produces a contradiction which corrodes it. Eventually, the final outcome
will result in a combination of the two. In other words, a thesis
combines with an anti-thesis to result in a synthesis. Marx and Engels applied
this philosophy to the economic evolution. Everything is a result of a
struggle of classes. Thus, a social system such as capitalism creates out
of itself socialism which will destroy it. Out of this struggle a new system
will emerge - communism. In theory it sounds great; it's the practice
that makes it rotten. Marx made several mistakes: he could not predict that the
working class will organize in trade unions and will start negotiate their
working conditions with the management. Thus in a way the employees
became part of the employers. He could not foresee that his theory will
be put in practice in the most backward country in Europe, Russia. Any
social system, except dictatorial, requires social discipline and social
awareness. In Russia, where people were under tyranny of the tsars for
centuries there was none of either, and the attractive sounding political
system such as communism quickly degenerated into dictatorship. Finally,
one of the basic principles of any communal society is "take what you
need, give what you can." It sounds very good from the humanistic
point of view. Realities of life indicate that people are people and the
opposite is closer to the truth. Well, so much for that.
Surrender of France
in June 1940 was a terrible blow to all of us. I couldn't understand why
Germany could conquer France on which we put all our hopes. Of course, I
was a product of Polish propaganda which was indoctrinating us into belief that
Germany is run by a bunch of adventurers, a country without natural resources
and soon will have to surrender overwhelmed by such powers as Poland, France
and England. Nobody said to us that our (Polish) 42 regiments of cavalry
are useless against German panzer divisions. They were good for parades
but not for modern warfare. The heroic charges of the lancers could be
ridiculed as they were in the foreign literature, except that they were deadly
in the terrible harvest of the machine guns and the armor against the flesh of
the poor cavalry men. It is not true that the lancers were charging
against the tanks. I know that this is what was written about in foreign
press. The truth was that a detachment of cavalry was surrounded by
Germans. They wanted to break out and according to their intelligence
there were not supposed to be any German tanks in that area. To their
surprise several German tanks appeared. Of course, they had heavy
losses. But the courage of Polish soldiers sometimes bordering with
insanity was not only a legend. Polish soldiers fought according to
their tradition. What failed them perhaps was the wisdom of the upper
echelon of the command which left the country naked in the hour of danger
without having a perspective for the modern warfare. But this was not the
first time in the history of mankind and probably not the last one that the
footman is left by himself while his commanders run away. The Polish
command didn't run away but didn't prepare the country in a way in which She
could defend herself.
So this was the
situation by the summer of 1941: everything seemed to be quiet and peaceful,
and yet, it was evident that the two colossi, Germany and Russia, will jump to
each other's throat. There were indications that something is going to
happen. We were living near to the demarcation line between Russia and
Germany and were able to observe increased activity of the army, frequent
German planes over Russian territory, and in general there was a feeling of
nervousness in the air. Yet, trains full of all kinds of goods, grain, and
other provisions were going to Germany every day. Stalin wanted to have Germans
on his side at all costs.
This was also the
time when my big odyssey started. It was June 21, 1941.
DEPORTATION
They came at about
2:30 am, an officer of NKVD and two privates. This time they didn't have
anybody to ask to answer the door: just knocked and came in. I remember,
my mother woke me up and immediately I realized what is going on. They
told us to take what we needed and be ready in one hour. It was night
June 19/20, 1941.
We were packing our
belongings, some potatoes, clothing, etc., when my mother asked if she can take
some Valerian drops, which was the medicine for the heart. The officer
refused. My mother asked if we can take the mattresses which were just
made before the war. To our surprise the officer allowed to take them..
We were the last in their roundup for the night and they had some room on the
truck, so he didn't object.
We packed our belongings
on the truck and they took us to Brzesc Central, where on the side tracks were
awaiting freight cars. There was a long freight train ready, the box cars
with iron bars in the windows, and people were being brought from all over the
area. Most of them were from Brzesc proper but there were also from the
neighboring villages. This I could never understood: the Russians
came "to free the peasants from the yoke of the Polish landlords" and
yet, many of poor peasants were deported with us to Siberia. Sometimes
you could see the whole families, old people, small children, etc., being
arrested and deported. In our box car there was a grandfather, age 72,
and two of his grandchildren 5 and 7. These two lovely children were the
center of attention of the entire car. What crimes against Soviet Union did
they commit in their short lives is beyond me. But this was an example of
the Soviet justice. Their parents were arrested previously. It was
later on that I heard that after the amnesty, the parents of these two kids
came to Barnaul and found their children and soon after that their grandfather
died.
Most of the families
were without men: they were either arrested earlier or separated at the time of
deportation. In our case, we were lucky: my father was apparently too old
(at that time he was 61) to be arrested or to represent any danger to the
Soviet Union. But yet, when I think about it now, I know of people in his
age who were arrested or were separated from their families. I guess it
was pure luck.
When I think about
the reasons for selection of the deportees I get lost. There seem to be
none. There were people from all walks of life: young, old, poor, rich,
educated, uneducated, children (see above), grownups in other words everybody.
There was a family of White Russians, two sisters with their children, their
husbands have been arrested before. Their husbands (at least one of them)
were lawyers. They spoke among themselves in Russian. There was a
Russian Orthodox priest with his son. In our box car there was about 50
people.
We were held at the
station the whole day June 21. They let us out couple of times to go to
the station latrines. When I went with my father (men were taken
separately from women) we looked at each other: it was easy to run away and
hide ourselves in one of the railroad employees house. But mother was on
the train and we did not want her to be all by herself. We went back.
People were coming
to the train bringing something to eat, clothing, expressing their compassion.
But the spirits were good. No despair.
During the night of
21‑22 of June 1940 we heard the train moving. We realized that it
was the departure time. All of the sudden it became very quiet in the car
and then somebody started to sing "Nie rzucim ziemi skad nasz ród"
("We won't forfeit the land of our roots"). Some women started
to cry.
I don't think that
at that time I realized the seriousness of the situation and the dramatic
consequences of this moment for the rest of my life. It was somehow
inconceivable to me that I will leave Poland forever. I envisioned myself
returning to my native land as a grownup perhaps, after many years, to find
everything the way it was when I was a boy. Just as I read in many of the
historical books that I liked so much. I modeled myself right away as one
of the characters from my books ‑ a pilgrim coming back to his country
from far away lands after many years of absence. Years have shown that
these youthful visions were only in my imagination. Realities of life
proved to take my life on a completely different route.
The train was moving
quickly, and by morning we realized that we were close to the prewar Russian
border. I should mention that the Polish rails had a different gauge than
the Russians. Poland railways were compatible with the rest of the
Europe. In order to facilitate transport of goods from Russia to Germany,
after the invasion, the Russians extended their type of rails to Brzesc.
So, we didn't have to change our cars on our trip.
When we came to
Smolensk we noticed that the station was bombed. The party of people who
went to bring food to the car found out from the local Russians that there are
rumors that Germans invaded the territory occupied by the Ruskis. Of
course we were very glad to hear this: at last the two of our enemies will
fight among themselves ‑ so much the better. After a short stop we
went further inside Russia. The trip became more or less routine for the
duration: once a day, at some station, or in the middle of nowhere, the guards
would let us out to go to "bathroom". Women and men together,
each car separately. You had to find some quiet place in the bushes to
relieve yourself in some sort of a privacy. It was difficult because the
guards were all over the place, bayonets on their rifles, keeping an eye on
everybody. We found out later that all other box cars had a hole in the
floor for sanitary purposes. Our car didn't have that vital detail.
In connection with this there were terrible situations. With all fairness,
I have to admit that, the guards didn't show any hostile feelings towards
us. Just indifference. They must have been seasoned workers that
escorted many people to the place of their exile, and we were one more.
We asked them and sometimes they agreed not to close the door completely, so
that we, boys could urinate when the train was in motion. Women,
unfortunately, suffered terribly.
Mrs. Krynicky a
“White Russian” who lived in Poland, was a character.... Everyday she
would start a conversation with the guard, in her exquisite, literary Russian,
asking him to let us out "for a walk", meaning to the bathroom.
Invariably, he would answer: "Niet prikaza." (No order).
Gradually, Mrs. Krynicky would increase her demand and her pleading would
change the language so that she would curse the poor guard in words so profane
that a sergeant of marines would blush. The poor soldier kept away from
her. She became terror of the escort. Once a day, we would stop at
some station and they would give us a "karmioshka" (food). It
consisted usually of some soup or barley (kasha) if we were lucky. Once,
I think in Svierdlovsk, the soup had worms so big and so many that it was
decided to throw it away. That day we went to sleep hungry.
I spent many hours
at the window trying to get a glimpse of the countryside. I would deny
that I was curious to see it. One could see that it was not a happy
land. We were passing villages with small houses with thatched roofs,
people going about their daily chores seemed to be subdued, without a
smile. At railroad stations there was ever present NKVD. We went through
Tambov where my father was stationed during his military service before going
to the Russo-Japanese war in 1905. This was the first time that I went outside
of Poland. It was changing from the plains of Byelorussia, then the
monotonous country of the Russia, until we came to the Ural Mountains.
Then the train was going between rocks that sometimes you could reach them by
hand. I think, we crossed the Volga river at Saratov. Somehow, it
was our destiny that practically every generation had to go to Siberia.
My father went there twice: once as a Russian soldier and then as an exile; my
great grandfather died in Siberia; and I went there as an exiled.
At nights I listened to the monotonous sound of the wheels, thinking that every
sound takes me further and further away from my
country.
Couple of times, I
don't remember where, we noticed the stations bombed and the rumors about the
war between Germany and Russia were confirmed. It became apparent that the
Germans started the fighting on the night of our departure from Poland.
We started our odyssey in the evening and they attacked in the morning on the
22 June, 1941. Only few hours of difference and how different would be my
life. I don't know which would be better. Of what I heard how the
Germans treated Poles, I might be grateful to the Russians for the
deportation. Otherwise, I might not survive the war.
After 12 days of
travel we arrived to a fair city of Barnaul. Barnaul is a capital city of
the region called Altaiski Krai ‑ or Altai Country in English. It
is a beautiful country. When I think of it now, it resembles Vermont or
New Hampshire. Barnaul itself is situated at the foot of high Altai
mountains, just like Denver, Colorado and the mountains could be seen at a
distance. Only the climate is much more severe: hot summers and bitterly
cold winters with plenty of snow. When we came there it was quite warm
though not hot. We were brought to one of the suburbs of Barnaul
"Vostochnyi Poselok" or Eastern Settlement. It was near one of
the largest rivers in Russia, Ob. The Russians were rather sympathetic to
us. I will never forget the scene when we were being detrained and a group of
Russian women came to us and asked if we want anything to eat or drink.
They told us that they were exiled from their from somewhere some 10 years ago
in similar conditions. I learned later that to be exiled from one place
to another was part of normal life in Russia. This was due to Stalin's
paranoia and communist system.
We were put in a
large hall hat was used as a "Krasnyj Ugalok", Red Corner in
Russian. These were sort of a local community clubs that served as
all-purpose assembly rooms, movie houses, meetings and every other purpose
imaginable. Of course, every meeting or other communal activity had to be
sanctified and approved by the local party boss. In Soviet Russia
nothing, absolutely nothing could be done without approval of the Party. The
Party, of course I am thinking about the Communist Party controlled everybody's
life in every respect. Sometimes I thought why Boris Pasternak got all
his honors for the "Doctor Zivago", which is a nice novel but perhaps
not merits the Nobel Prize. I think that he received it for the message
that he passed to the world in his book, that in spite of all the controls that
the state imposed on the Russian people, in spite of all the efforts to kill
existence of individual thoughts and feelings, people are still the same as
before, they have a right to feel, to love, to be themselves. That is in
human nature and no matter what restrictions any regime will impose on people
it will never change.
We were sleeping on
the floor, next to our things without any privacy whatsoever. There was about
400 people in that room sitting on our belongings. It was really a communal
living. I don't remember now if food was supplied to us or we had to
provide it by our own means, but I have a vague recollections of my mother
cooking something on a makeshift fire outside. We were waiting for some
more permanent place to live, killing our time by endless discussions about our
future, politics and of course, about the situation on the Russian front.
We did not know much from the press because papers were scarce and
additionally, we did not trust the Soviet
press.
After a few days the
NKVD told us that we will occupy the temporarily built barracks while the permanent
barracks, better equipped for the cold Siberian winters were being built.
Those who will work will have a priority in getting accommodation in the
permanent barracks. My father was not eligible to work( too old) but my
mother and I volunteered. Later on they let my mother to stay home. I
wanted to work with my friends who were pulling logs of wood to the river on
horses but they didn't take me. NKVD said that I was too young. My
job was to carry mortar to the plasterer. Every once in a while the
plasterer, usually a woman, would yell at the top of her lungs
"Rastvoru" (Mortar) then we would get couple of shovels of the mortar
and bring it to her. They were working on the permanent barracks.
The barracks consisted of a long corridor in the middle and had one room
units on each side. Each room was about 8' x 12' feet. There was
enough room to put two narrow beds against each wall and a small table in the
middle. At the end of the corridor there was a communal kitchen.
The construction of the barracks was very simple: two layers of boards
1"x 6", separated by studs, leaving about 4" between,
constituted the inside and outside surfaces of walls, the space between the two
layers of wooden boards was filled with wood filings which formed the insulation.
The walls were plastered inside and I don't remember how they were finished
outside. The whole idea was pretty practical and effective, except that
after certain time the wood filings did settle down and the upper part of the
structure was practically uninsulated which in Siberia was very bad idea.
Anyhow, this was the housing, the Soviet style.
We went to Barnaul
several times. It was not a very attractive place. Sidewalks were made of
wooden boards and streets ware not paved. Practically all houses were
made of wood. I don't remember any brick or reinforced concrete
houses. Of course, there was a movie house which the Soviets used for
propaganda purposes.
Since the wages from
my work was not much (I think it was 180 rubles per month) and there was
practically nothing that one could buy with these money, it was more profitable
to go to the river, Ob, and fish. At least you could get something that
you could eat. Ob, the second largest river in Russia after the Volga, at
that time, was river full of fish. It was not unusual for me to bring
home 15‑20 lb of fish or more. We had fish in every possible shape
and form: fried, cooked, dried for the future winter time and so
on. Also, as soon as it became known that my father was a physician, many
Russians having more confidence in a Polish doctor than their own,
started to ask my father to see their sick. My father, in return for the
medical visits, since he was actually not licensed to practice, didn't take any
money but did not refuse if they offered something to eat. So, more fish,
because the Russians hardly had anything else. But soon after us there
arrived a lot of Lithuanians usually rich farmers (Kulaks‑in Russian) and
they brought with them large amounts of food. So, when they started to
call my father he would bring home a piece of pork lard or something like
that. That was valuable. My mother would save it for winter, which
everybody was afraid of. Besides fish the only other sources of food were
either black market or the dining hall of the Vostochnyi Poselok. At the
black market one could get some potatoes that the locals would sell.
Sometimes, in Barnaul, it was possible to get some meat, but that was very
expensive.
We were getting 500
g. of bread per day. Under normal conditions there would be enough of
other things to eat and one would not be hungry. If one gets only the
bread and nothing else, 500 g. is definitely not enough. I remember, once
we were fishing, and a Russian boy, who was fishing next to me asked me to take
care of his "zakid". Zakid was a long string that had several
hooks attached to it. One end of the string was anchored a the bank of
the river and the other had a stone that was thrown into the water across the
river. After some 15 minutes you pulled the zakid out of the water and
usually there were several fishes on the hooks. So, this boy disappeared
for a while. After ˝ hour he came back and said:
"Well, I just
had my 500 grams of bread, and that's until
tomorrow."
To me this simple
incident symbolized the quiet resignation with which Russian people
accepted their fate in times of war. It is so typical to accept their fortunes
and misfortunes with a stoic melancholy. Perhaps it is best illustrated
by Dostoyevsky in "Brothers Karamazov" where Misha brings upon
himself the burden of guild and suffers for the crimes committed by the
others.
In Barnaul I
improved my knowledge of the Russian language. It should be noted,
however, that the people that were there were not exactly the most educated and
the words that I learned from them was not the ones that I would repeat in a
mixed company. But, nevertheless, it was a learning
experience.
Once somebody told
us that at a distance of about 15 km. there is a kolkoz (collective farm) and
there is a lot of potatoes left in the ground after the tractor finished to
excavate them. Armed with shovels and sacks a group of us, mostly young
people, went to the kolkoz. What we were told was true: there was a lot
of potatoes in the ground and soon we filled our sacks of potatoes. As we
were almost ready to start our walk home, several men on horses came from the
kolkoz, flagellated us with their whips and confiscated our potatoes. I
was lucky in that I saw them coming early enough to hide in nearby bushes and I
escaped the whipping and confiscating of my potatoes but others were beaten
pretty bad. This was a bitter awakening to the fact that we were in the
Soviet "Paradise" and from time to time they reminded us that their
justice is not what is commonly accepted. Although it was obvious that
these potatoes will rot in the ground it was not allowed to take them from the
kolkoz territory no matter what. We could deduct from this that he or she
will rot himself in the Soviet Union like those potatoes.
Incidents like these
were not unusual in Soviet Russia. This was the result of their
"planned economy." Sometimes, they would bring shoes to the
store. Usually there was only one store in a kolhoz.
Everybody would line up in a queue for the shoes. But they would find out that
the shoes were only sizes 6, 7, 11 and 12. Anybody who did not fall in
these sizes was out of luck! Sometimes in one village there was plenty of
sugar but they did not have salt and in another village, few miles away, the
situation was reverse.
Somehow, I never
lost my firm belief that our experiences are only temporary and somehow things
will turn for the better. This strong optimism throughout the entire
duration of my odyssey helped me enormously. Later on, when the war ended
and it became obvious that we could not return to Poland because the allies
gave her to the Russians and my dream of return to free Poland collapsed
and people were at the extreme despair, going crazy, committing suicide, somehow
I always believed that there will be a turn for the better, that we will come
out of
this. The same
was when I was in combat: when often it seemed that this is the end, that I
will never come out of this situation alive. Sometimes, when pieces of artillery
shells were passing left and right over my head with their characteristic
noise, when dead or wounded reminded me that this is not a joke but real,
deadly war, I asked myself if this is the last moment of my life. In
those moments, sorrowful moments when I said to myself "goodbye life"‑
somehow at the back of my brain there was a ray of hope that perhaps the fate
will spare me and I will survive. I guess many soldiers feel that way,
everybody must be an optimist ‑ nobody wants to admit to himself that this
is it ‑ the encounter of the worst kind.....
Well, back to
Barnaul......
I will never forget
our first trip to Russian bath. Of course, it was a public bath.
Russians can be deprived of everything but they will never be deprived of their
"bania". You probably heard about it. But it is an
experience. There is a large room, with a pile of hot rocks in the
middle. Fire is going under the rocks all the time to keep them
hot. Every once in a while somebody throws a bucket full of water
on the stones and the room fills up with steam. People recline or seat on
the benches which are arranged in a amphitheatrically fashion. The higher
you climb the hotter it gets. At the top the air is so hot and so
saturated with steam that it is difficult to breathe. And they flagellate
themselves with twigs until their bodies are red.
We had to disrobe in
a locker room and go to the next room to get soap and a towel. There was
a large framed woman giving out these item. I was a shy boy of fifteen
and standing naked in front of a woman was very painful
experience. But the worst was to come later. After I did have
my bath, I opened swinging door not realizing that they lead to the
women's bath. The room was full of steam which obstructed my vision
and at first I did not realized that they are women. All of the sudden I
was surrounded by naked women giggling, pulling me in all directions... I made
a quick retreat and when I reentered men's compartment I was greeted with
laughs - "Where did you take your bath?". I don't know if
I was ever as embarrassed as at that
time.
On political scene
there were important developments. Since the Germans attacked Russia, the
Soviets joined the allies in their struggle against the Nazis. As a result of this,
sometime by the end of July, 1941, the Soviet papers announced that
they started the talks with the Polish government in exile, in London, and on
the basis of these talks all Poles who were either exiled like us or were
arrested and found themselves in the Soviet Union will be given amnesty.
Additionally, Polish Army was to be formed out of these people under Polish
command to fight the common aggressor ‑ Germans. The Polish embassy
was established in Kuybyshev and the staff of the Polish Army in Buzuluk.
Our life, meanwhile, was not affected immediately by these events.
Upon hearing about
the amnesty, my father wrote to the staff of the Polish Army asking them where
we should go to join the army: he as a doctor, my mother as a nurse (she was a
qualified midwife when she was young, and in the World War I she was a nurse)
and I as a volunteer. To our surprise (in Russia when letter comes it is
an event) a response came instructing us to go in the area of Tashkent because
the Polish Army will be evacuated to that region pretty soon also.
Meanwhile we knew that Piotrek's wife and his two daughters were deported like
us to relatively close Kazakhstan. We knew her address and wrote a letter
asking her if she wants to join us so that all of us could go to
Tashkent. I was supposed to go to help her to come to Barnaul. I
was excited about my new role of traveling all alone and rescuing my sister‑in‑law
and her two daughters. To our disappointment, she responded that she has
got a goat, a sign of prosperity in Russia, and has secured enough
supplies of food to survive the next winter and she feels more secure by
staying where she is rather than leaving everything and going to face the
dangers of travel. I still remember her address: Kazakhstan, Povladarskaja
Oblasc, Kokshetovskij Rajon, Kolhoz Kara‑Bulak. Having her negative
response, my father decided to act: he organized the Polish people at the
Vostochnyi Poselok and convinced them, that it would be better for us if we
move south to Tashkent: if not to join the Polish Army, we will gain protection
of the Polish authorities and at least the climate will be warmer in the
winter. Also, since there is a better climate there will be easier to
find something to eat. They listened. My father found 54 people who
were willing to go with us. I will always admire my father's insight and
his common sense approach to life ‑ the decision to get out from Barnaul
was one of his better achievements. We found out later that soon after we
left the Soviets changed their minds about many things regarding our
freedom. Soon after we left they did not allow anybody to leave Barnaul
and people there had to fight for survival to the end of the war.
Additionally, after our army was evacuated to Persia, (more about this later)
Russians organized another Polish Army under renegade general Berling who
decided to cooperate with Russians. This army in which Piotr served
(see later) was fighting on the Russian front against the Germans and was
subjected to the draconian rules and regulations of the Red Army. There
were several instances when it came practically to open fighting between the
Polish Berling Army and the Reds. One example of such conflicts was in
Warsaw, during the Warsaw uprising, in September, 1944. At that time the
Red Army was already on the other (eastern) bank of Vistula river when the
Polish Home Army in Warsaw, which is on the western side of the Vistula, was
being decimated by overwhelming Germans forces. Detachments of the
Berling Army crossed the Vistula and with heavy losses established a beachhead
on the western side of the river. At that time the Red commanders gave
orders to retreat, forbade to provide any supplies, ammunition, etc. They
had to retreat leaving the insurgents to their doom.
So, my father
organized this group of people to go South. It wasn't supposed to be a
luxury type of a trip. They hired two box cars, they collected if I
remember right, 250 rubbles per person and the two cars were to be attached to
a train going to Kokand, which is in Fergana Valley, near to Tashkent.
There were some agonizing moments when the station master on the last day said
that there were some changes in his orders and he is not able to provide the
cars. My father quickly recognized the fact that all he wanted was a
bribe. They collected quickly additional 400 rubbles and my father
delegated one good looking woman to go to talk to the station master.
During the conversation when she was pleading for the damned cars, she without
saying anything just put the envelope with the money in the drawer of his
desk. He didn't promise anything and there was no talk about the money at
all, but at the appointed time a man came and said that we should go to the
station, the box cars are waiting. It was already mid ‑ or late
October when we were loading our things onto the cars. It was getting
cold. I will never forget that night. I had to load not only our
worldly possession but also, being a nice guy, I carried the stuff of couple of
elderly women who attached themselves to our family. It was about ˝ of a
mile to carry the luggage and the time the two women were walking next to
me all the time urging me to be careful about their stuff and expressing their
concern that something might be broken. And they had tons of luggage. I
was on the point of dropping something just to break it just to give them a
reason for their worries. Finally, everything was on the train. I
was completely exhausted.
On that night just
when we were loading our luggage, a train with the wounded came to the
station. The NKVD completely surrounded the platforms and nobody was
allowed to see the wounded. Later on, I realized the contrast between the
Soviet Russia and other countries, e.g., USA. When wounded were coming here
from Vietnam, they were treated with honors, everybody was allowed to see them,
people were allowed to express their compassion. Nothing like that in
Russia. Nobody knows anything, everybody minds his or her business.
If you want to know something that you are not supposed to know, they will take
care of you quickly.
At that time we knew
that the things were going bad for the Russians. It was not written in
the newspapers but people were talking about the enormous losses in men and
material and about German advances on all fronts. In spite of the facts
that Germans were our enemies we were glad to see the Soviet Russia suffering
defeat in the hope that when Germans will get further and further into the
Russian steppes it will be more difficult for them to get out from this
trap. We didn't realize how close it was for the Soviets to collapse
altogether and them probably nothing would save the world from the German
domination. We didn't know at that time about the extermination camps,
but before we were even deported we were told about hundreds of Poles, Jews,
and Gypsies, that were killed for any German soldier killed by the
underground . My parents worried all the time about the ones who were in
Warsaw, we were completely deprived of any news about them. So, we set on
our trip towards Tashkent in hope that soon we will be able to establish
contact with the Polish Army.
SOUTH OF
After long and
tiring journey (at least a week or ten days) we arrived to Kokand. Kokand
is a fairly large town, located in Fergana Valley, a very fertile area, about
two hundred kilometers east of Tashkent. This was the Uzbekistan
Republic. We rented a room from the local Uzbek family and anxiously
awaited any news about Polish army.
This was my first
exposure to oriental life and environment. The Uzbeks are Muslims, very
keen on preserving their customs and religion. They had definite Mongolian
features: They hated the Russians and their communist regime that
destroyed their traditional way of life. The entire southern belt of
Soviet Union comprising Kirghizstan, Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, Turkmenistan and
most of Kazakhstan was subjugated to the Russians after the 1917
Revolution as late as in the thirties. Before, although nominally there
territories belonged to Russia, it was really no-man's land where the law of
the land was administered and enforced by the local landlords, according to
their wishes. In spite of Soviet propaganda and various rules aiming at
changing their ethnic lifestyle the local people preserved many of their
customs and traditions. They were warring their colorful round hats,
their caftans, their pastime was mostly in "chaihana" where
they were sitting for hours sipping tea and talking. Chaihana was a large
room with a wooden platform raised about 18 inches above floor, covered with
some dirty rugs. The customers were sitting with their legs
crossed. Families had their meals there. A meal usually consisted
of large, bowl of rise pilaf. The Uzbeks would sit around the bawl and eat
it with three fingers of their left hand from the same bowl.
Chaihana was an
unique institution. It served as a meeting place, restaurant, cafe, or a hotel.
You could sleep there for days and nobody would disturb you.
The personal hygiene
of the Uzbeks had much to be desired. They had plenty of lice and since
sanitary facilities were usually not available, their did their bodily
functions wherever they could find a place suitable for it. Their attitude
towards us was indifferent. They did not know how we did come to their
country and probably they did not care. Probably they thought that we were
Russian refugees, since we looked the same as Russians. There was also plenty
of Russians who were living in Uzbekistan.
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