I was present the next day, when at 4 p.m. sharp the Germans waived a white flag. We responded and an officer from each side marched out. They met in the middle of the avenue, saluted each other and started a conversation. On a given sign from them both, German soldiers came out with stretchers and picked up the bodies, while a couple of our men dragged the sack of Russian supplies to our side. All of this was filmed by the Polish War Correspondent. Once the pickup was completed and soldiers returned to their positions, the two officers saluted each other and returned to their lines. A few minutes later the shooting resumed with increased intensity. The officer who represented us was 2nd Lt. ‘Miki I’; he had lost an eye during the fighting in the telephone exchange in the old town.
This was not the end. The next day, the same German lieutenant contacted us across the avenue, saying that his battalion CO would like to personally thank our CO for this courtesy. He proposed that three Polish officers visit them, while three German officers remained with us as hostages. This proposal was again agreed to by our high command; hoping that we would be able to observe their positions and gauge the morale of their soldiers. Our delegation included Lt. ‘Skała’, 2nd Lt. Miki I and C. Off. ‘Dęmbina’, the last two from the Nałęcz Battalion. Dęmbina’s recollections were included in Jan Lissowski, Jerzy Szanser and Marek Werner’s book on the battalion’s role in the Uprising:
At the designated hour, on a given signal, we and three Germans stepped out from our positions. Without stopping, we passed our German ‘partners’, in the middle of the avenue, saluting each other … In the ruins of the Cristal [a bar], a German officer with the rank of captain was awaiting us. He introduced himself very properly and was unusually pleasant and loquacious. He led us through a series of courtyards, across Nowy Swiat Street to the building at 13 Kopernika Street. Waiting for us in a second-floor apartment were several German Wehrmacht officers with an SS major in charge.
After introducing ourselves, we sat down at a large round table. I noticed there were flowers in the vases and some cakes on the sideboard. It was explained to us that the major had celebrated his Geburtstag [birthday] yesterday.
The glasses were filled with wine and cigarettes were passed around. A conversation began and was led by the major; the remaining Germans officers for the most part assisted the major and were supportive. The conversation was in German; though at the beginning our officers tried to converse in French, only one of the German officer continued in that language. The major first thanked us profusely for making it possible to remove the bodies of their dead soldiers, referring to the gesture as ‘good military custom’ …
Next the major expressed his regret that we had to fight one another and under those conditions suffer unimaginable losses, when on the other side of the Vistula were the Russians, who had also invaded our country. He was talking more about European unity, that our common enemies were the Russians. Lt. Skała replied that we would always fight any enemy who invaded our country. It had always been that way throughout our history, and above all we were soldiers obeying our orders.
The conversation was very lively. The major was very well informed on the participation of communist units – he mentioned the AL (the ‘People’s Army’ of the Polish Communist Party) – in the ranks of the Home Army. We replied saying they were our comrades in arms and their political beliefs should be considered a personal matter.
After an hour, concluding our visit, the major once more expressed his thanks and wished us good luck. The major clearly carried the entire conversation and we sensed that he was domineering and authoritative, the remaining Germans simply repeated his opinions. We conducted ourselves altogether differently – we each spoke and expressed our own opinions freely.
The same captain escorted us back. The sympathetic captain was the battalion’s doctor. He mentioned that shots fired from our side were very rare, but always accurate. When his stretcher-bearers heard our shots, they would pick up their litters, without waiting for an order and go to the front line. He pleasantly bid us farewell. We left the ruins of the Cristal, passed the three German officers in the middle of the avenue and reported to Maj. Sokół on our ‘visit’.
I would like to add that the recovered sack from the Russian drop contained, in equal parts, hardtack and tobacco. Both became quite useful. We were still smoking this tobacco in the Lamsdorf POW camp.
Lissowski, Szanser and Werner, Batalion ‘Sokół’ w Powstaniu Warszawskim, pp. 152–3
18
Capitulation, 29 September–4 October 1944
For sixty-three long days, the citizens of Warsaw heroically and bravely resisted the German occupier.
Chancellor Gerhard Schröder, Warsaw, 1 August 2004
It became apparent to us that neither the Russians nor the Allies were going to help us. A rumour began to circulate that capitulation talks had started. The Germans had already proposed capitulation on several occasions. Up to now, this had been refused by our high command. On 29 September the command communicated to Russian Marshal Konstantin Rokossovsky that unless the Russians gave us immediate artillery fire and air support and moved into Warsaw within three days, Warsaw would fall.
On the 29th Germans started a concentrated attack on Zoliborz, the last remaining district outside the centre. The attack, carried out by an armoured division with two supporting regiments of infantry, broke through our lines suffering substantial losses in tanks and men. Our losses were also heavy; the capitulation was negotiated. The remaining 2,500 AK soldiers laid down their arms on the evening of the 30th, and became POWs.
The same day, our battalion suffered its last fatalities. Cpt. Skóra and newly promoted 2nd Lt. ‘Zadra’ were killed. It was tragic and ironic, that after taking part in all of the battalion’s heaviest fighting over sixty-one days, those two brave officers lost their lives in what turned out to be the final two days. Next day, in the afternoon I attended their funeral. As the ceremony ended, I realised there were no more sounds of fighting. On 1 October, the beginning of the third month and the sixty-second day of the Uprising, an agreement was reached for the evacuation of the civilian population. On that day the Germans were to hold their fire from 5 to 7 p.m., allowing civilians to leave Warsaw through two designated exit points.
When I returned, the son of the quartermaster was in our quarters. He told me that his father, Lt. ‘Pelerynka’, had just passed away in the hospital. A few days earlier, a mortar shell had exploded behind them as they were walking together. His father suffered more than twenty shrapnel wounds while he was not even scratched. He brought with him a German shepherd dog, found and adopted by them at the beginning of the fighting.
The temporary armistice was extended from the morning of the next day, 2 October. By then we realised that capitulation was inevitable. Most of our cadet-officers were promoted to the rank of second lieutenant; to be treated as officers while POWs. All of the soldiers were issued new ID cards. Up until then there were several variants of our ID. Besides the Home Army there were other units, tactically under command of the AK, including the communist AL (People’s Army) and the ultra-nationalistic NSZ (National Armed Forces). They all had their own distinct IDs. The heading of the one I had originally been issued stated: Armia Krajowa – Korpus Bezpieczeństwa (Home Army – Security Corps). The new ID, which I have donated to the Warsaw Rising Museum, was headed Armia Krajowa, dated 28 July 1944 and stated: ‘Cpl. Bohdan – Bohdan Hryniewicz is a soldier of the AK’.
Identity card issued by High Command of Home Army, before capitulation, to soldiers of all units fighting in the Uprising. (Author’s archive)
Late that night Nałęcz returned from KB HQ, where he had spent that entire day. He told me that the capitulation had been signed that evening. It was an ‘honourable capitulation’ and he would brief us in the morning on its conditions. Next day, 3 October, after sixty-four days of fighting, the capitulation was announced. In the morning Nałęcz called the few remaining members of his staff and outlined the condit
ions of the capitulation agreement. They were:
Military action between ‘Polish Military Units’ and the Germans ceased as of 8 p.m. 2 October 1944.
‘Polish military units’ were defined as all units under the tactical command of the AK since 1 August 1944.
Polish units were to lay down their arms and march out in formation, under command of their officers.
The officers had the right to retain their ‘white’ side arms (meaning sabres) – that’s what made it ‘honourable’, we all laughed when we heard that.
Our German POWs were to be handed over.
All soldiers would be granted their rights as prisoners of war under the Geneva Convention, including the members of auxiliary services, without any distinction, regardless of their sex.
No one recognised as a POW would be prosecuted for any military or political activities during and prior to the Uprising.
The civilian population would not be subjected to any reprisals.
All civilians must leave Warsaw; the German forces would not cause any unnecessary hardships.
The Germans guaranteed that only their armed forces, the Wehrmacht, will be used in handling POWs (this was a condition of the Polish high command in light of the crimes committed by the SS).
Nałęcz went on to say that our battalion would not be marching out as one unit to lay down our arms. Instead, each company would go with the battalion it had recently reinforced. 1st Company would go with the Piorun-Zaręmba Battalion and 2nd Company with Sokół. He gave each of us US$10 and 500 Polish occupational złoty. The army treasury was liquidated to prevent it falling into German hands. He proceeded to dispense the money and gave me double, one share for me and the other for Andrzej. He thanked and released us. As we were leaving, he asked my mother to stay. After a while he called me in. Mother was still in the room. He told me to sit down and told me he had decided not to allow me to go with our units and become a POW; instead, I would leave Warsaw as a civilian with my mother.
I felt as though I had been broadsided. I felt betrayed and angry. After all the events of the past two months I was to be abandoned. No longer was I to be a part of what we now call ‘a band brothers’, the people with whom I had formed such strong bonds, so many of them no longer with us. I was to be cast away. I sat there, biting my lip. Nałęcz then nodded to mother and she left the room. He turned to me and said: ‘I know how you feel; I know you feel betrayed and disappointed by me; I made this decision not because of you, but your mother; after the death of Andrzej and Wiktor it is your responsibility to be with her.’ He remained silent for a few minutes and I stood up, came to attention and said: ‘As ordered, Capitan, sir!’ Cpt. Nałęcz stood up, extended his hand, hugged me and said: ‘I will see you after the war.’
Later that day I went with Nałęcz to say goodbye to both companies. The 2nd Company was going to march out the next day with Sokół Battalion, part of the 72nd Regiment of Infantry. After visiting Cpt. Holski and other friends, we moved on to Cpt. Pobóg and his 1st Company. Again, I said farewell to old friends. As I said goodbye to ‘Borys’, I felt jealous that he was going and I was not. It was difficult for me to keep my composure, but I did not let anyone know that I would soon be a ‘civilian’.
Nałęcz went to KB Headquarters and I continued to ours. When I returned, mother mentioned that Adam (I believe that was his name), Pelerynka’s son, would be coming with us since he was alone now. She said that we should leave tomorrow morning, if for no other reason than that we were almost out of food. She managed to get some warm civilian clothing for me. I very reluctantly took off my panterka uniform, removed the battalion shield from my left arm, one shoulder blade with its two stripes signifying the rank of corporal and the ribbon of the Cross of Valour. I secreted them in my wallet. I hid my military IDs in the binding of a book. My red and white armband, worn through sixty days, was too bulky to be hidden safely.
Early next morning, 4 October, we assembled in the kitchen and ate the last of our food: a very small bowl of zapluwajka, the watery barley porridge. There was nothing left, over the previous few days all the food had run out. We said our goodbyes to the remaining two members of the headquarters staff, Sgt. Mama and ‘Maryla’ (the wife of 2nd Lt. Witold), who were leaving to join 1st Company, which left only Nałęcz and us; he wished mother farewell then turned to me and extended his hand. I shook his hand without saluting; he smiled and left for KB headquarters.
The three of us, mother, Adam and I, remained in that empty apartment overlooking the ruined buildings across the cratered street. I told mother that I was going to watch the surrender of arms. Mother reluctantly agreed but wanted us back before noon. She wanted to leave Warsaw by then since we had nothing left to eat.
The German-designated point was next to the Warsaw Polytechnic, only a few blocks away. Adam, his dog and I arrived after 10 a.m. and stood watching as Polish troops arrived in columns of four, led by their officers. As each unit, marching in step, crossed the demarcation line, German officers initiated military salutes, which were returned by the Polish officers. Once over the line, units stopped and stood down. The Polish troops were to carry unloaded weapons, no ammunition or grenades. One by one, each soldier moved forward and handed his weapon to a German soldier, who then opened the breach, checked that it was not loaded and stacked it. The pistols and machine pistols had their magazines removed, checked and reinserted, then were placed in wooden boxes. The Polish soldiers re-formed and marched out in columns. The troops were making themselves as presentable as possible. They were wearing an assortment of uniforms and civilian clothing, but they were not allowed any part of the German uniform. They carried their personal luggage, mostly knapsacks.
As Adam and I were waiting to see the Sokół Battalion with our 2nd Company, we were approached by a German officer. He looked at Adam’s emaciated dog and gave commands in German, which the dog immediately obeyed. He gestured and Adam surrendered the leash. As the officer was walking away he turned and said in German, ‘Thank you for taking care of our dog.’
It was almost noon as we returned to the empty headquarters. Mother was already waiting. We put on our overcoats and knapsacks, she picked up her bag and we walked out. We joined the stream of dejected humanity making its way towards the nearby crossing point designated for civilians. Without any formality we crossed the demarcation line.
PART 4
UNDER GERMAN OCCUPATION
19
Transit Camp ‘Dulag 121’,
4–8 October 1944
We were back in German-occupied Poland. We started to walk on the designated road framed by sparsely stationed German soldiers. The German sentries were all elderly men from the Wehrmacht, clearly not front-line troops. There were no SS present along the way. Walking around us, people were sombre, dejected, sometimes crying; mostly women, children and elderly people. There were very few men or older boys. There were walking wounded with bandages, arms in slings and on crutches; there were sick and wounded on improvised stretchers or transported on small hand carts. Small children and infants were carried or sometimes pushed in prams. People carted their meagre belongings in backpacks, bags or suitcases. There were people carrying their belongings in sacks, pillowcases or tied in bed sheets. Adam and I carried only small backpacks and we helped others as much as we could. After walking for about half an hour, we saw several small vegetable gardens to our left. They looked pretty much trampled, but here and there were signs of growing vegetation. There was an elderly German Luftwaffe soldier standing by the road. We stopped near him, dropped our backpacks, and Adam and I slowly walked into the field. The soldier gave us a cursory look, but then turned around and pretended not to see us. We managed to find some carrots and onions and pulled them out of the ground. We returned, picked up our backpacks and continued walking, munching on the first fresh veggies we had seen in two months.
We must have walked for four hours and covered about 10 miles. Apart from our vegetables, there was no food or ev
en water along the way. Luckily, it was an overcast day and rather cold, about 10°C. Finally, we entered the town of Pruszków and saw our destination. Behind a very high concrete wall mounted with watchtowers we saw the roofs of many large industrial workshop buildings. We entered through the large iron gate framed by concrete bunkers. We found ourselves in a sprawling yard of the Central Workshop of the Polish Railways. We were now in Durchgagslager 121, a transit camp known as ‘Dulag 121’. Our group was directed to one of about ten workshop buildings. It was a cavernous industrial building with high concrete walls topped by metal windows and a steel construction roof. The windows were missing most of their glass; the floor was dirty concrete with railway tracks running through it. There were pieces of machinery and other industrial junk spread around. There was already a large group of people sitting and lying on the concrete floor, surrounded by luggage and crying children. Finally, there was some water from a few industrial taps surrounded by people trying to fill whatever containers they had. There were no sanitary facilities. We were pointed outside to hastily dug trench-cum-latrines. Screens separated the men’s and women’s sections. There were no seats, only a single long wooden pole over the stinking trench buzzing with flies. There were long lines of people in front waiting to use them.
We were there for three days. The conditions were subhuman. There was no electricity or heat. We slept crowded on the cold concrete floor in our clothes, covering ourselves with whatever we had. The smell of unwashed bodies, combined with that of the infected wounds and the excrement of the sick, was difficult to endure. Some preferred to brave the cold nights outside, huddled around small fires. The only food we received was one ladle of soup at midday and a cup of lukewarm ‘coffee’ with a small piece of bread in the morning and evening. Small children were given milky porridge. A few Polish, nurses wearing Red Cross armbands, nuns in their different habits and volunteer kitchen personnel in white aprons, were allowed to move freely between the different buildings. They tried to help but were overwhelmed by the multitude of people, the shortage of food and lack of medication. Each building held about 2–3,000 people and was isolated by barbed wire fence, becoming a separate camp. The buildings were guarded by Wehrmacht soldiers, but we also saw Gestapo and SS officers and men. On the second day I came across our old neighbour. He told me that he had returned to our building the day after it had been bombed and caught fire. He found one part of the building had collapsed but the fire had gone out. In the back garden he found the body of our dog lying on the grass. He speculated that she must have returned to the building and been overcome by the smoke and fumes. I was sad that we had lost her but glad that she probably did not suffer too much.
My Boyhood War Page 19