A Special Duty

by Jennifer Elkin

  As darkness fell on the night of the 28th April, the four men, escorted by a group of BCh partisans, left the dugout and made their way through the forest to a prearranged rendezvous with the AK escort, who had brought an interpreter with them. The entire party then made their way cautiously to a natural curve in the river, opposite the village of Kamionka Dolna, and within sight of the German garrison at Kopki Dwor (where Eddie had been turned in). Had it been necessary to fight at this stage it would have been disastrous, as the pistols of the AK escort would have been no match for the machine guns of the German patrols. Luckily, they reached the river without incident. There was a large log lying on the riverbank which, when rolled over by one of the escort partisans, turned out to be a roughly-hewn-out boat; their ‘ferry’ to the other side. The men gathered to discuss how to manage the crossing, and it was decided that the party of twelve should split into two groups of six, with the airmen and an escort going in the first boat.ii The unstable, partially submerged boat was pushed away from the bank, and it rolled and swirled down the right bank of the river, over a sandbar and out into the fast-flowing current, with the men holding tight to their wounded skipper and clinging on for their lives. Charlie Keen, who couldn’t swim, remembered it like this:

  “The current was fast and some of us slid into the water, but our brave escort, strong Polish partisans, swam alongside and caught us, hauling us to safety on the opposite bank.”

  As they tumbled from the boat they saw a young girl on horseback waiting for them and learned that she was to be their guide through the next section of treacherous marshland. Sixteen-year-old Nina,1 the daughter of a hunting estate manager, had lived in these forests all her life, becoming a partisan scout and courier at the age of eleven, following the destruction of her family home by advancing German soldiers.

  The River San looking towards the Krzeszow Bridge (Taken in 2013)

  She made a lasting impression on the men as she moved unchallenged through the forests, speaking fluently in Polish, Russian and German, and they would see much of her in the coming weeks. On this occasion, though, after guiding them to safety, she said farewell and rode off to re-join her own unit.2 After the war, Charlie Keen returned twice to Poland to try and trace her but, only knowing her nickname, ‘Nina’, had no success. Fifty years were to pass before the War Office revealed her real name, and Charlie managed to track her down, quite remarkably, to Southampton, England; just fifty miles from his own home in Brighton. They remained friends until the day he died.iii

  Once on the other side of the river they came under the protection of a small, mobile forest unit3 commanded by Jan Orzel Wysocki, known as ‘Kmicic’, and the final stage of their journey took them by car to the village of Ujscie, deep in partisan-controlled woods, where the unit was based. Most of the fighters were away raiding a large German farm, but Jerzy Lyzwa (George), a recent recruit, was on patrol in the forest when a breathless young man came running up to him, saying: “I’ve been looking for you – there are two cars coming this way with uniformed men inside”. George, assuming they were Germans, sent him to warn the village and then hid in bushes at the roadside to wait. The cars came into view, floundering through deep, sandy wheel ruts, and he noticed that the occupants were not in German uniform; the khaki was the wrong colour and they were not wearing hats. He then recognised the man sitting alongside the driver as Stanislaw Belzynski, commander of the AK sabotage and diversion unit, and felt confident enough to stand up and approach. Belzynski told him that the uniformed men were English, and that he was having difficulty understanding them so, as George spoke good English, could he ask them some questions. Turning to the four bedraggled young men in the back of the car, George said: “Are you English?” To which they smiled with relief and confirmed that they were. Belzynski suggested that they continue the questioning at the village, and a runner was sent ahead to let people know that it was not the Germans approaching, but the English!

  The car swept into the woodcutters yard at Ujscie under the gaze of a curious group of bystanders, and Tom was asked what they would like to do first. He replied, without hesitation, that they would like to wash and shave, if possible. He was too shy to admit that this was because they were not only very dirty and unshaven, but they had also picked up lice during their days of living rough and were desperate to get clean. George found them some soap and a razor and the woodcutter killed one of his chickens and set about preparing a meal for them.iv After they had eaten Tom lit a cigarette and the questioning began. Who were they? Where had they come from, and why? Tom introduced himself and his crew, one by one, and explained that three of his crew were missing, and he had no idea where they were. The gathered partisans then listened in awe as ‘Tommy’ described the sequence of events that had brought them to the Polish forest. For the most part he seems to have told them the truth but, either by way of adding a little colour or because of misunderstanding in the translation, the story conveyed to the partisans was that the aircraft had been attacked and hit by fighters over Czechoslovakia while on its way to supply the Polish Home Army, and although Jim Hughes had opened fire in defence, the crippled aircraft had crashed on Polish soil, forcing the crew to bale out. All faces turned towards Jim with growing admiration as Tom told them that he had shot down many German planes since joining the RAF. The partisans were impressed by the RAF men, and a bottle of vodka was produced.v Toasts were drunk to the brave partisans for having successfully pulled off such a daring rescue operation, and to the four young men who had flown all the way from Italy to bring them aid. Tom learned to say: ‘Na zdrowie!’ as he downed his vodka shots, much to the amusement of Smola, who had accompanied them all the way from the Tarnogora bunker. He joked later that these were the only Polish words Tom learned. It was just five days since they had baled out of their aircraft, and there was a huge sense of relief that they were out of immediate danger.

  A couple of days later the men of the mobile forest unit4 arrived back from their raid on the German farm with the bloodied body of a comrade, who had been shot and killed by guards. The mood became sombre as his closest partisan friends carried the young man’s body to the crossroads at Momoty Gorne. There they dug him a grave with their bare hands.vi This was the reality of partisan life, and they would witness more harrowing events over the coming weeks. For the moment, the overriding priority for Kmicic (whose orders were to keep the RAF men safe) was to move them out of the village where they were attracting a lot of attention, and into the forest where he could keep them on the move. His unit comprised three officers and twenty men; among them a doctor, a solicitor, and several engineers, some of whom were on the run from the Gestapo after being caught in sabotage activity at the munitions factory in which they had been conscripted to work. Morale amongst these men was quite good; they had no choice but to hide in the forest and fight for their lives. The officers, however, were volunteers, and often accompanied by wives and families. They seemed to be more affected by the constant strain of the situation. Lieutenant Kmicic had set up this forest unit quite recently, but he was a veteran of many operations, including the raid on Bieliny Police Station that had provided his men with some of their weapons. Tom mentioned during his debrief that Kmicic suffered from nervous strain and heart trouble, despite only being in his late twenties.vii

  Partisan life was tough but there was a routine, a sense of purpose, and comradeship, which at times made it a good life. The airmen were accepted into the unit and treated as equals in every respect, except that they were not allowed to go out on raids. Instead, they undertook guard duty around the camp, and helped with the daily task of foraging for food. Being in safe hands themselves, they felt keenly the hardship and suffering they witnessed around them, which ranged from pathetic family groups burned out of their homes and living rough in the woods, to roaming bandits, who themselves plundered and robbed just to survive. The Kmicic unit had been attacked twice by Bolshevik bandits, as had local villagers, who complained bitterly about the t
heft of their livestock and carts. The Russian partisan units that were suspected of arming the bandits disclaimed all responsibility, and were engaged in a certain amount of plunder themselves. This forest, once home to a few woodsmen, was now a frightening place, populated by fugitives, displaced people, and resistance groups, including Russians and Ukrainians who, with the advance of the Eastern Front were filtering in behind the departing Germans. All were living off the land, their desperation fuelled by an awareness that they were slowly being surrounded by German troops, whose spotter planes flew over the forest from dawn to dusk. They might be queuing for their soup ration one minute and rushing for cover the next as a Fieseler Storch loomed over the canopy, machine-gunning the area. This danger was increasing daily as the encirclement of the partisan- controlled forest progressed. The daily physical and mental struggle took its toll on the men, but a certain amount of self-sufficiency was expected of them and they constructed their own beds, carried water from the river, and went out daily (disguised as woodsmen), in search of food. They called at local farms, where they could usually obtain eggs, potatoes and poor-quality black bread, but rarely meat, and whatever they came back with was shared equally. They often went without, but unlike some of the Russian and Ukrainian bands, they didn’t steal their food, but paid for it with cash and protection. If they were staying in a farmhouse they would cook together in the kitchen, and then George would probably bring his guitar out and they would sing a few familiar songs together. In the forest, food was eaten cold, unless the commander considered it safe to light a fire. Alojzego Pajaka, known as ‘Ali’, who was assigned to Tom for communication in German, described the crew as young, friendly men who listened to everything intently and slept, ate and shared every task with the partisans, including the making of spruce shelters. Charlie Keen later commented: “They [the partisans] shared everything with us, and what’s more, they thought of our comfort before their own. If it had not been for them, we would not be here.”

  Partisan activity during this period was predominantly to disrupt the German supply lines; blowing up trains and railway lines to harass the enemy as the Russians advanced and, in order to do this effectively, the partisan groups, AK, BCh and NOW5, were in the process of joining forces. A week after the German farm raid, the Kmicic unit joined forces with one of the larger groups in order to intercept a train and free Polish prisoners who were being transported to a concentration camp, but, when they reached the planned interception point, it was swarming with German troops and a skirmish followed in which seven of the partisans were wounded. The injured men were brought back in carts and taken to a field hospital run by Father John’s6 well-equipped NOW unit, which specialised in diversion and sabotage operations and had in its ranks six Frenchmen who had escaped from forced labour in Germany. The Kmicic and Father John groups were in the process of merging to form a single AK-NOW fighting unit in anticipation of the June offensive, and a degree of cooperation was already underway, to the extent that the airmen, who were left with a ‘guarding’ group during raids, were not always sure which of the bands they were with. Father John’s unit of around 200 men and women was run with discipline and impressive military precision. Everyone was expected to attend morning and evening roll-call and daily prayers, reciting together: “Lord God Almighty, give us the strength and the power to persevere in the struggle for Poland…”

  Every few days the Kmicic group would break camp at dawn and move under cover of darkness to a different location, sometimes staying in villages, but most of the time sleeping rough in the forest. The airmen were easy to pick out in the forest camp because they were dressed alike in RAF khaki, and always together. They remained polite and curious about every aspect of partisan life, and because they showed a particular interest in the weaponry, the partisans set up a target range with bottles to show them how to use the Mannlicher rifles (that they had acquired during the raid on Bieliny Police Station). There was a lot of laughter and leg-pulling, but all four men turned out to be good marksmen, which gave them great kudos within the group. The shooting contests became a regular sport and this, combined with a bit of slapstick humour and the singing of familiar songs, allowed them to forget the isolation of having no common language. Tom’s German was quite fluent and Patrick Stradling knew a little Polish, which enabled them to get by, but they did not have the fluency to join in a conversation in Polish or understand what was being said around them, and they quickly learned that asking too many questions aroused suspicion. It amused the partisans that the men remained straight-faced when they were laughing at a joke, but on one memorable occasion, a partisan took out a small black comb and put it under his nose in an imitation of Hitler and sang a song, which had them all laughing. Some things didn’t need words, and gradually a sense of kinship developed which would endure for a lifetime – trust, loyalty, humour and kindness were drawing them in to the Polish struggle for freedom. The fact that the airmen were able to beat all contenders in the shooting contests was certainly a factor in the developing mutual respect, to the extent that they were issued with the precious Mannlicher rifles when they were on guard-duty around the camp. They remained close as a crew, and kept their spirits up by singing familiar songs that reminded them of home – ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ and, ‘My Bonny Lies over the Ocean’, and were soon learning some new ones. ‘Kolysanka Lesna’, a forest lullaby, was a very popular partisan song, and ‘Moja Malgorzata’, a love song that George sang when thinking of his wife, became a favourite with Tom, who was missing his own wife, Marguerita. They had married during his embarkation leave before flying to North Africa and he wondered how she was coping, waiting in Ludlow for news of him.

  The gradual shift towards emotional solidarity with their comrades did not prevent the harsh physical conditions taking a toll and they suffered from cold, dysentery, infections and lice infestation. Tom’s leg injury slowly healed, but he developed a painful foot infection, which was lanced with a knife and cleaned with the raw spirit usually reserved for drinking before a raid. He then succumbed to a bout of pneumonia and the partisans went to great trouble to get medicine for him. They had been living like this for a long time and had become inured to the hardship, developing expertise in primitive living and survival. They made poultices from beeswax and cleaned up their lousy clothing by stirring an anthill with a stick. They then threw the infested clothes on top for the ants to eat the lice, also leaving an acid residue to work as a natural disinfectant. The men strived to share every aspect of partisan life and would willingly have joined the fight, but in these early days, it is doubtful that they were sufficiently ‘hardened’ for guerrilla combat and they were not permitted to take part in raids. They had not entirely given up hope of finding a way back to the Squadron, and Tom asked AK Commander Belzynski if it would be possible to get a message to Brindisi to let them know that they were alive and in safe hands. Being familiar with the distances involved and lack of refuelling facilities, they probably had no expectation of a rescue mission, but simply wanted their families to be informed that they were alive. According to an account by Stanislaw Jankowski in his book, Ostatni Lot Halifaxa,7 Belzynski did get a message to Brindisi early in May, but the response, when it came, gave no hope of rescue, because there were not enough hours of darkness for an aircraft from Italy or England to make the round-trip in safety and, even if an aircraft could have reached them, the required spec for a landing ground was impossible to achieve within miles of their current location. It was suggested that they try and make contact with a Russian partisan group, who might be in a better position to assist them. A couple of weeks later the whereabouts of these four crew members was reported in the Squadron operations record book:

  “Information was received today from the Polish ME48 that a message had been received by them from ‘the field’ in Poland stating that W/O Storey and three members of his crew are reported safe and in friendly hands. Further details to follow” (ORB 148 Squadron Summary 17th May 1944) />
  They had flown alone and were now lost to the outside world. Interestingly, at the same time, May 1944, SOE were making plans for a Dakota of 267 Squadron, fitted with eight additional fuel tanks and escorted by two Liberators, to take off from Brindisi and land at a prepared airstrip near Tarnow to drop off and collect key Polish personnel (Operation Wildhorn II), so it was logistically possible to mount such an operation to south-east Poland, but perhaps only in exceptional circumstances. Brindisi base, once the hub of their lives, was a receding memory for the RAF crew, who woke every morning to bird song, hunger and the murmur of Polish voices as comrades prepared for the day’s raid, or went off to forage for food. They still wore the uniform battledress they had baled-out in, but their status as RAF aircrew, protected by the Geneva Convention, was compromised by their attachment to a partisan unit, and they knew that if caught, they would be treated as spies or terrorists and shot. Fortunately there were no ground attacks during this period, the forests being largely ‘no go’ areas for German troops, but it was a different matter in the skies, with reconnaissance planes flying over the treetops from dawn to dusk searching for partisans and machine gunning any likely groups they came upon. A new and worrying development was the dropping of signal flares by the Fieselers to guide in bombers for intensive and indiscriminate attacks, and it was distressing to see villages, where people had been kind and given them food, reduced to smouldering ruins, or subjected to murderous reprisal raids. Tom was particularly affected by the sight in one familiar village of men and women, victims of such a raid, hanging from the gables of their own houses. Something about this pathetic and pointless act of brutality not only tipped the men into wanting to avenge it, but haunted Tom for a long time. They toyed with the idea of forming their own guerrilla band, with supplies arranged through London – a sign of their growing anger at the unnecessary cruelty of the enemy and the solidarity they felt with their Polish friends.