大象传媒

The following story appears courtesy of and with thanks to Marushka (Maria) and Zygmunt Skarbek-Kruszewski and George (Jurek) Zygmunt Skarbek.

Next morning, looking through the window, I saw a rather unusual scene.
In front of the shire office was gathered a big group of civilians, all oddly armed. Some had light machine guns on their backs, some double-barrelled guns, some old matchlocks which had to be filled with buckshot through the muzzle. Some held in their hands different types of revolvers and hand grenades. Women had baskets full of cartridges. Near the window stood an old Jew in a crumpled hat. He was leaning on a sword, like a general at a levy en masse.
I was really curious. It appeared that the Soviets had issued a strict order to the population to bring all arms in their possession to the shire. This oddly-armed crowd was obediently following the orders of the red authority.
In the afternoon we heard a very pleasant rumour. Tomorrow the first train would be assembled from the undamaged wagons on the rail. It would be for the demobilised soldiers and evacuees. The train was supposed to go in the direction of Wilno which was already in the possession of the Soviet Army.
We rushed to the station for more information. On the station we saw signs of preparation. Polish and Russian railway employees were busy. Carriages were assembled, men were repairing the damaged rails, clearing them of rubbish. At last the dead rails, where grass had even started to sprout, began to come alive.
We decided to wait in Sarny for the first train to go north. None of us was keen to track along the railway lines. The waiting lasted three days, during which we watched the station. At last, on the third day, the locomotive arrived. Everyone cheered. Puffing and whistling, the engine shifted the carriages to new tracks. There was a large crowd of Polish soldiers and evacuees on the platform. All were waiting and ready to jump aboard the train at the given signal. After two hours the train came into the first platform, ready to start the journey. There was a great rush to the doors. It was hard to climb up the high steps of the goods train. After climbing into one of the carriages, we found some floor space in a dark corner. In this crowd, we lost sight of our bard and never saw him again.
After a few more hours waiting in the train, we heard a whistle and the train, amidst the cheering of passengers, started moving.
At each station there were more people waiting, all trying to board the train to find a place. There was an unbearable crush. There was no place to sit on the floors. Like sardines in a tin. We were standing and if possible, leaning against the walls.
During the night, at a small station there came a loud banging at the doors.
鈥淟et us in. What in the bloody hell - we also want to go home,鈥� the people called.
We couldn't distinguish anyone through the cracks.
"Who are you?" asked someone.
"We are Airmen. After all, this is a train for the army."
"Oh, Airmen," called another voice from the train amidst jeering and laughing.
"Where were you when the Germans bombed us? Not one of you was around then. Now, when the war is over, you are all pushing."
"Don't let them in. Let them fly home in their planes," other voices were calling.
Only a few of them were able to push their way in. Most were left to fight for another place.
In the morning we reached Baranowicze, a junction in north-east Poland, Some of the soldiers left and we had more space. One could even move about. Although the morning was very cold, we left the door open to let in the fresh air as it was hard to breathe in the stale, foul air.
The next day was better. Less demobilised soldiers were boarding the train. We talked with the soldiers. Some of them were wounded, mainly by German bombs, only a few through fighting with the Russians. The frontier detachment was quite disorientated. There were instances when the Poles opened fire immediately but the Russians tried to negotiate. But the opposite also happened; the Russians were greeted as allies and were expected to join forces and fight the Germans. There were also other situations. When the Polish commanders saw the Soviet Army, they deserted and fled, or tried to negotiate with the Soviets. The Soviets directed the grey masses of the Polish soldiers towards rallying points. There they were questioned and disarmed, if they still had arms, except for officers who were arrested. This was what the soldiers told me from their own personal experience.
We passed Lida, a small town in north-east Poland. The train was very slow. I dozed, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. Some played cards, others sat in the open doorway with their feet dangling outside. Suddenly a train passed and we heard, from the front of our train, yells and cheers. I rushed to the door of a Soviet military train. Our soldiers were greeting them, waving their caps and cheering the Soviet Army, calling "Greetings comrade," "Hooray Red Army," "We are going home," "For us the war is ended.鈥� These cheers came mainly from the White Russian peasants, citizens of north-east Poland.
The soldiers from the Red Army returned the greetings and looked at our transport with great interest. The soldiers with the white eagle on their caps were going home. For them the war was finished for the time being and that was enough. Those with the red stars were quieter, more reticent. They were going to an unknown future and war. Their train was carrying them further away from their homes into a foreign land of the unknown, a land full of contradictions. Some people were greeting them with cheers and waving caps, others were firing at them. What should they expect? Fighting, or a friendly handshake? Uncertainty does not make one smile readily.
After passing Lida, we entered a countryside of forests near Jashuny forests of fir trees smelling of resin, saw mills and stored wood, fallow hilly pastures. This was already our home country, our Wilno scenery.
Soon our train started to descend a deep gorge into the River Wilja valley towards our Wilno, our native town with its many church towers, its narrow twisting streets.

颁辞苍迟颈苍耻别诲鈥︹赌�
'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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