I had been through this rubble field several times before the Germans occupied the ruins of the synagogue. It was about 300ft from where we were standing to the opposite side and the buildings on Bielańska Street. There was an opening in the wall of one of them. The field was not perfectly level; it had high and low points. I looked, trying to locate the sunken areas. I spotted one close to the boy’s body and made a run for it. As I was diving into it the machine guns on the synagogue opened up. When they stopped, I inched forward and touched the body; it was cold. After a few minutes I crawled about 20ft to the next depression. From there, with a series of crawls and zigzag runs, accompanied by bursts of machine gun fire and explosions from a rifle grenade, I reached the other side, jumping through the opening. As I landed on a stair platform below, a stream of bullets poured through the opening and ricocheted all over. The stairs were in the back of the building. I walked all the way down to the basement. As I walked through the cellars, I was suddenly hit by the suffering of the civilian population. In the darkness, small groups, mostly women and children, huddled around flickering candles. There were many wounded amongst them. They all looked gaunt and very tired, yet they all smiled and asked how the fight was going.
Through the cellars I emerged in the courtyard of the corner building on Bielańska and Długa streets. There was a barricade closing Bielańska Street that was always manned. As I emerged from the gate and turned left towards the barricade I saw three badly mangled bodies with blood and pieces of flesh splattered all over. They must have just received a direct hit from a mortar.
From the barricade I looked at the ruins of the ghetto. Machine gun fire sporadically sprayed Długa Street in front of me. I sprinted over to the other side, which was shielded from the gun. It was a short distance down to Group Headquarters on Barokowa Street. I reported to the duty officer: ‘Runner from Capt. Nałęcz’, and was immediately taken to Maj. Sosna. I saluted, gave him the note and repeated my verbal instructions. I never actually read this note, but Rejmund Szubański quoted it as follows:
15.8.44 11:45 Report to headquarters of Kuba Group. Request sending a doctor with instruments to the redoubt. We have a large number of wounded we cannot evacuate under fire. Urgently request a surgeon. Receiving heavy fire from mortars. We are holding steady, we will persevere. Surgeon! Nałęcz Cpt.
1 Batalion Szturmowy KB ‘Nałęcz’ W
Powstaniu Warszawskim, p. 88
Maj. Sosna asked several questions and I gave detailed answers. I was told to wait outside and sat down on the floor of the long corridor (the building was a school), leaned against the wall and dozed off. I was woken and taken back to Sosna. Standing next to him was Col. Wachnowski, overall commander of the old town defences. I was asked more questions by the colonel, about our losses in manpower and terrain, and the state of our ammunition. I was told that I would have to wait until darkness before I could return. I was escorted out, given some food and told to wait. I laid down on the stairs and immediately fell asleep.
Someone had shaken me awake and in the dim light I saw Sgt. ‘Mocny’ from our battalion. He told me that since I had not returned Nałęcz assumed that I had not made it. He asked for volunteers to try again and Mocny had volunteered. He started in early evening, through Arsenal Square as there was a lot of smoke. 5 Przejazd Street and the building next to the Arsenal, on the corner of Przejazd and Długa streets, were on fire.
We were called to Maj. Sosna, who gave us the following instructions: we were to carry back the ammunition that he could spare us; we were to tell Nałęcz that the Work Battalion had already started digging a trench across the field connecting to the redoubt; he could not send a surgeon, they were all needed in the field hospitals; the new trench would allow us to evacuate our wounded. He gave us a handwritten note expressing his approval of our defence.
We were shown the ammunition we had to carry back: a large cardboard box of German rifle cartridges, a smaller one of 9mm ammunition, a small sack of English grenades (Mills Bombs) and two containers (six tubes) of PIAT projectiles. We decided to split the load equally in case one of us did not make it. I carried a backpack with half of the rifles, the 9mm ammo and about ten grenades. Mocny had a backpack with the other half of the cartridges and more grenades than me since they were quite heavy. We both carried one container of PIAT projectiles. The three tubes in each container were flexibly interconnected by webbing straps and had a carrying handle.
We decided to go to the Arsenal before deciding which way to take. We reached the Arsenal and from its gate we could see that the rubble field was constantly being lit by flares and sprayed with machine gun fire. The Germans were trying to obstruct the digging of the trench. We looked to the right and noticed that the fires that had started that morning had died out and were now smouldering and still smoking. There was sporadic machine gun fire on the square in front of us coming from the ruins of the ghetto. No flares were being fired over the square, but there was some light from the smouldering fires. We decided to go that way. We moved along the wall of the Arsenal towards Przejazd Street, taking advantage of the cover provided by the smouldering building on the corner that protruded into the square. Reaching the end of the cover I signalled with my new German torch, alternating green and red. It was acknowledged from the gate on other side of the square.
We decided to crawl through the square. It was awkward and difficult for me because of the weight of the backpack and the PIAT container in my hand. Halfway there, I indicated to Mocny that I wanted to sprint the rest of the way. He agreed and on his signal we both got up and ran. As a flare went up and illuminated the square, the machine guns from the ghetto opened up, blindly spraying the square. By the time they found us we had reached our target, an open door in the gate of the corner building. I saw a grinning Nałęcz and others waiting for us. Mocny was wounded during the final sprint. Luckily, it was only a flesh wound and he was taken away to have it taken care of. I reported to Nałęcz and answered his questions. He told me that the work on the trench had begun as darkness fell and had encouraged him to think that at least one of us had made it. There was much jubilation over the ammunition that we brought.
* * *
There is a Polish saying: ‘he knew that the bells were ringing but he did not know in which church.’
While he was a POW in Germany, Stanislaw Podlewski, a lieutenant in the Uprising, started interviewing his colleagues and keeping notes. Based on those and subsequent interviews, in 1957 he published his first, very popular, book, March through Hell, about the fighting in the old town. He related several stories about our battalion. In one of them, ‘Redoubt “Nałęcz” Cut-off’, he had this to say:
For the last few days 1st Assault Battalion ‘Nałęcz’ under the command of Cpt. ‘Nałęcz’ (Stefan Kaniewski) has been defending barricades on Leszno-Przejazd and the building of the PAST telephone exchange on the corner of Przejazd and Leszno, called the ‘Nałęcz’ Redoubt.
The enemy is keeping the building under relentless fire. From Leszno Street and the ghetto ruins there are constant attacks by infantry supported by tanks. From the ruins of the synagogue heavy machine gun and mortar fire. The Redoubt is cut off from the rest of the old town. For two days it has been impossible to establish communications with headquarters. The situation is tragic: lack of ammunition and grenades, no water and food … Incoming fire is so strong that the runners cannot get through the streets … Runners undertake constant attempts to establish communications with headquarters. Ignoring incoming fire, runner Andrzej (Andrzej Hryniewicz) crawls from the redoubt. Halfway, the boy contorts in pain and calls for help. A burst of machine gun fire cuts off both of his legs. This scene takes place in front of the men. They are helpless. Before anybody can assess the situation, runner Bohdan (Bohdan Hryniewicz), a 14-year-old boy runs out without an order. Reaching his prostrate brother, confirming that he is dead, he takes the message from his hand, crawls further through the ruins and happily reaches headquarters …
‘Redoubt “Nałęcz” Cut-off’, pp. 323–4
This fictitious version of events was repeated in several other books about the Uprising. There’s always someone who would like to do ‘one better’. There was a cadet officer in our battalion, a very brave man who was always in the midst of the heavy fighting. After the war he published several articles as ‘Memories of an officer of KB AK, Janusz Wisniewski (“Sternik”), who fought in the Warsaw Uprising in the ranks of 1st Assault Battalion “Nałęcz”’. In the Polish weekly Za i Przeciw of 24 September 1972, he ‘recollected’ as follows:
There is nothing left to do but renew attempts to re-establish communications with headquarters. They [implying Cpt. ‘Nałęcz’ and Wisniewski himself] are sending the 13-year-old runner ‘Tarzan’ [Andrzej Hryniewicz].
He leaves. Somewhere halfway through the rubble he receives a long burst of machine gun fire. He contorts in a paroxysm of pain and calls for help. The next burst of machine gun fire cuts off both his legs. ‘Sternik’ is watching this with ‘Nałęcz’. Nearby stands Private ‘Bohdan’, the 14-year-old brother of the runner. Without any command, he runs away from them and crawls to his brother lying in a pool of blood. He bends over him, takes his head in his small hands, trying to bring him to the consciousness yelling: ‘Andrzej! Andrzej!’ After a while he realises that his brother is dead. He kisses him, takes the message from his hand and crawls forward. The Germans from the synagogue spot him. The staccato of machine gun fire commences again. But Bohdan pays no attention to it; he crawls forward metre after metre. From the ladder, with bated breath, his comrades at arms follow his movements. Will he make it or not? The future of the redoubt and its defenders depends on it. The Germans spare no one.
Bohdan has already crawled around 80yd in the direction of the building adjoining the rubble field. Before him is the most dangerous part: a wide incline leading to the opening in the wall. We can see how the boy is concentrating before making the jump. In the meantime, the Germans are sending bursts of machine gun fire right next to the opening. For fifteen minutes he makes no forward movement. We wait full of expectation. All of a sudden he runs ahead and on the run covers the dangerous sector. We do not know if he made it through the hole; from our positions we see machine gun fire biting into the wall next to the opening and red dust obscuring the hole.
Za i Przeciw, 24 September 1972, p. 20
In the above ‘recollection’, he stretched his licentia poetica past the breaking point. Because father read those two stories he never wanted to believe me when I told him the true circumstances of Andrzej’s death. I guess he preferred this more ‘heroic’ version.
During the night there was heavy fighting on our right flank. Mostowski Palace, captured the previous day by the Germans, was retaken at night by the Boy Scout Battalion Wigry. As before, heavy shelling of our positions started again in the morning, but there was no German activity in our sector. That same night our outpost in 3 Przejazd Street reported a hammering noise coming from the cellars. A patrol under Lt. Skóra was sent to investigate. After a short firefight, they pushed out a few Germans. Surprisingly, the Germans did not try to fight but withdrew quickly. Lt. Skóra found an opening leading to the cellar in the building behind ours, which he barricaded as well as he could. The patrol also found an enclosure with two piglets in it. Nałęcz ordered the evacuation of the building. As soon as the communication trench was completed he sent a runner with a report to Maj. Sosna. The runner returned with a direct order to defend all positions. The evacuation was stopped but most of the civilians who had been there had already left that morning.
Meanwhile, I attached myself to ‘Pantera’ and one other man and we left in search of the two piglets. We had no problem locating the pen as the piglets, most likely very hungry, were making loud honking noises. We entered the enclosure and in the dim light from a small, high window we spotted the piglets. The other man claimed he knew how to slaughter and butcher pigs. The ‘butcher’ pulled out a bayonet and tried to grab one. After a few unsuccessful runs behind the squealing piglets, Pantera killed the pigs with two short burst from his machine pistol. The pigs were butchered in the courtyard. We all looked forward to a good meal as food was very short in supply. The pigs were sent off to be cooked in the kitchen of the ground-floor apartment in the back of the courtyard.
Around noon Nałęcz sent me to find out how the piglets were progressing. All of us were already licking our chops in anticipation of fresh meat for the first time since 1 August. I walked into the entryway of 3 Przejazd Street looking towards the ground-floor window on the other side of the courtyard. I saw an open window and two of our girls leaning over the stove. I waved and shouted to them. One of them turned from the stove and waved back. Then, as I was still looking at them, the building, in front of my eyes, rose up a couple of feet. A pressure wave hit me, followed by a cloud of choking dust from pulverised plaster. A surrealistic picture unfolded: in almost complete silence, the building crumbled down, as if in a slow-motion film. There was no loud noise as with a typical explosion, only a deep rumble, as the five-storey building collapsed in a heap of rubble and a cloud of heavy grey dust on the other side of the courtyard. Then there was silence, except for the ringing in my ears.
The immediate rescue effort was in vain. The whole back part of the building had collapsed into a huge mountain of rubble. The losses, estimated at around forty people, were severe. Our battalion lost fourteen soldiers and several were wounded. Equally large losses were suffered by the remnants of other units and civilians.
We were baffled by the explosion; it was so different from those caused by conventional explosive materials such as TNT. Abczyc, the head of the sapper section, speculated that this explosion was similar to ones in coal mines. It turned out that he was right. The explosion was made by Taifun-Gerät, an experimental weapon that mixed coal dust with air. The mixture was pumped into the cellar and then ignited. The Germans were developing the weapon in the hopes of destroying American bombers by directing powerful explosions upwards. This was the first and only confirmed use in the Uprising.
The German follow-up attacks, expected immediately after the explosion, never materialised. Much later, they resumed their two-pronged attack, along Leszno Street, and from the ruins of the ghetto towards Przejazd Street. By that time new defensive positions had been established in the ruins of No. 3 Przejazd. Those attacks failed after the Germans suffered losses. In the meantime, the few remaining civilians in our area left through the new trench to the old town.
Later that day there were a lot of celebrations. Since our communications were re-established, we received order No. 40 from our headquarters: ‘for heroism during the battle for Warsaw from 1 to 13 August 1944, officers, non-commissioned officers and privates from the 1st Assault Battalion KB are awarded, for the first time, the Cross of Valour.’ Captain Nałęcz, several lieutenants and other ranks, including nurses and myself, were awarded. The last bottles of champagne and cognac from the Knights of Malta Hospital were drunk. Nurses prepared ‘ribbons’ handmade from red material stretched over cardboard, cut in the regulation size of 1 x 5cm, with two stripes made from white tape. I was very proud when Nałęcz pinned the ribbon on my uniform.
That night, heavy artillery shelling started a fire in the telephone exchange. It was put out with difficulty. The next morning, 17 August, the artillery fire intensified. From the depths of Leszno Street two large assault guns emerged. Delfin identified them as Sturmpanzer IV Brummbärs. They had a 15cm (6in) short-barrel howitzer designed to provide direct fire support to infantry attacking in urban areas. The guns opened fire on the barricade and the telephone exchange, causing severe damage. When the firing stopped the expected follow-up infantry attack did not materialise. Instead an armoured vehicle came forward with a PA system and started transmitting in Polish. First, in German-accented Polish, a man’s voice told us to lay down our arms or we would be annihilated. If we surrendered, we would be recognised as regular soldiers and tr
eated with honour. He told us that many soldiers had already surrendered and many civilians had crossed over the lines. This introduction was followed by ‘testimonials’ from Polish women. They introduced themselves as mothers and wives of insurgents. They told us how well they were being treated, that they had received medical care and food. They were waiting for us. This was repeated several times. After the last transmission there was an hour or two of quiet. The Germans suspended all fire on our positions.
Nałęcz decided to return the favour. We did not have a PA system, but someone found a large horn from an old gramophone that perfectly amplified and projected a human voice. Delfin was called and Nałęcz briefed him on what to say. Alternating with ‘Kmita’, the other Wehrmacht deserter, they started our transmission in perfect German along the lines of:
Soldiers of the Wehrmacht! You are fighting us when the Allied Air Force is pulverising German towns and villages, killing and maiming your wives, children and parents. On the eastern front the huge Russian Army, helped by the Polish, is slowly moving forward and will invade your homeland. They will take revenge for the atrocities you have committed. On the western front the large armies of Britain and America will soon reach the German border. The whole world is against Hitler. Give up now! Come over to us and you will live and see your families.
Our transmission was overpowered by the high volume of the German PA: ‘You Polish bandits, you will not escape us. We will kill you all!’ And then one of the ‘Polish mothers’ pleaded with us, saying that if we continued to fight they would be shot by the Germans. After those words the euphoria that we had felt when we had turned the tables on the Germans quietly disappeared.
The German PA vehicle retired and the assault guns renewed their fire. Our conditions inside the redoubt were deteriorating. The lack of food, particularly water, was very troublesome. The only water we had was from the two remaining bathtubs and a shallow well dug in one of the courtyards. There had been no water to flush toilets for quite some time, which created the problem of spreading dysentery. The plague of big, green-black flies was troublesome, particularly to the wounded. Luckily I had a cast-iron stomach and was not affected.
My Boyhood War Page 13