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.

It was the night of the eighteenth of September, 1939.
Next day, about noon, we met another obstacle on the river an abandoned mill. The dam and the derelict sluice gates were still there and the waterfall was too high for safe floating down. To carry the heavy boat overland was not tempting either. I decided to negotiate the obstacle with an empty boat. Marushka tried to dissuade me, looking distrustfully at the rapids which were two metres high. I would not give in. We emptied the boat, I undressed and pushed the boat toward the middle of the river directly opposite the waterfall. Marushka and the bard were watching, full of attention, from honorary seats of a tribune the ruins of the old mill. The main stream caught the boat and pushed it faster and faster towards the falls. The noise became louder. I grabbed the edges of the boat, sitting right in the back.
My dug-out was hanging in the air with the nose pointing straight down. A second of uncertainty and the boat settled down nicely, like a duck, right in the middle of the stream. From the ruins, my audience gave me a great cheer. I stood up proudly to give them a deep bow and ... toppled over into the water. This was my first swim in the Horyn.
Afterwards, when we were preparing to continue on our way, the bard ran to some nearby huts looking for some food, especially eggs which he simply adored. He never missed an opportunity to ask peasants he happened to meet for eggs. This time he got six and started pressing us for a stay so that he could cook them. The evening was cold and we were rowing strongly to get warm.
We stopped at a fisherman's boatshed. On the bank were two boats, a fish trap and a large net drying on sticks. We decided to spend the night here. The countryside was beautiful. On a steep hill was the fisherman's cottage. The fisherman welcomed us very hospitably. He was dressed in the custom of this region. He wore bastshoes made from birch trees and old linen clouts (bastshoes are made from inner bark of a tree and clouts - a long piece of cloth to protect one's feet and legs). He gave us the barn for the night. His wife brought fresh milk, straight from milking, and some cold potatoes. The bard, of course, asked for eggs. When the bard heard that there was a village nearby, he disappeared and we prepared for the night. The barn was nearly empty - there was not even straw. We bedded down on a cart with a bit of straw and our rucksack for a pillow. The bard came late but in a good mood and talkative so we guessed that he must have been lucky in finding some eggs.
It was a very cold night and our teeth were chattering. The only cover for both of us was Marushka's overcoat. At the crack of dawn we were up. Even the wooden fence was covered with fine white threads of rime. The hut on the hill dominated the neighbourhood. At the foot of the hill flowed our Horyn, overgrown with shrubs and reeds, around us meadows covered with hoar frost and, on the horizon, the dark line of a forest. The first sunbeams were shining brilliantly, spreading their golden glow over the calm water. The fisherman was ferrying some soldiers to the other side of the river. They dispersed in different directions, each going hurriedly towards their home. For them the war was over.
This day we were really hungry. The evening meal had been inadequate, the night was very cold and we left early on an empty stomach as we had hardly anything left to barter. The bard was quiet, scanning the bank for some habitation. Marushka was chewing an old crust which she had found in her pocket when looking for her glasses. At last we saw a forester's cottage on the edge of the forest. We sent the bard to enquire. Shortly he began waving his hands, indicating that we should follow. In the house was a woman with three children. She was Polish and from the city of Lublin. Her husband was a gamekeeper. He took part in the war of independence during the First World War. They had lived there for some years. Now they were very worried about the future.
She talked incessantly. "You know that the peasants could kill us all. They are very angry with my husband for all the fines he has issued to them for poaching logs and taking wood away. The Court gave them jail sentences and my husband was called as a witness. They have threatened many times that they will get their revenge. My goodness, do you know that they are all waiting for the Bolsheviks? I have heard that already some armed bands are being organised. They say that they will kill all the masters and their servants. My husband does not sleep at home any more - he is afraid. Now he has gone to find out how far the Bolsheviks have advanced. He has been gone such a long time. Mother of God, maybe he has already been killed. What will I do with three children? Jagusia is only two years old."
She was pouring out her sorrows, mainly addressing my wife, as we men were distracted by a big loaf of bread and some cheese and eggs which were lying on a shelf.
鈥淥h, my Godfather, Holy Mary. My milk will curdle," she exclaimed suddenly and ran to the stove.
We considered this a very good moment to stop her story by changing the subject.
My wife asked her timidly, "Could you maybe sell us something to eat? We are very hungry."
"Certainly, madam, everything will be looted anyway. I will not talk about selling. You just eat anything which is in my lowly house. Oh, my God, tomorrow we might all be dead. Who could think of selling in times like this?"
Who knows how long we might have had to listen to this torrent of lamentation but our bard had a ready approach. He was unable to wait any longer.
"Can't we fry some chicken?" he interrupted. "There are so many running around, maybe you could give us some?"
We were stunned but the hospitable wife of the gamekeeper did not hesitate and offered us four! We were thunderstruck, but not for long and started to work. The bard was killing the chickens, Marushka was plucking them and I entertained the hostess. The work was well distributed - perhaps I had the hardest job. Never since have we eaten such a wonderful meal. Nicely browned chicken covered with dripping fat, fried potatoes and cucumber salad smothered with sour cream. It was like a symphony for the senses. An unfinished symphony, as one chicken remained uneaten. We took it with us, thanking the hostess profusely for her reception fit for a king.
Steeped in a blessed feeling of satiation, we let our boat proceed slowly and lazily. After a few kilometres of such peaceful travel, we heard some shooting from a nearby village, some shouting and someone calling "Stop". Looking around, we saw some ten armed peasants waving their hands and signalling us to stop. We had to. We did not expect anything good from this armed group but there was no way of fleeing. I banked and the peasants ran towards us. Some had rifles, some hand grenades; amongst them were teenagers holding sticks and stones. We were worried.
"Out of the boat." yelled one, coming quite near.
"Hands up." was the next order. We climbed out, putting our hands up, facing ten hostile men. A large young man holding a hand grenade came forward. His dirty shirt exposed a hairy chest.
"Where are you going?" he challenged us.
"We are evacuees from Warsaw," I replied tersely.
"Ah..." he hesitated before the next question, "do you have arms?"
"No."
"No? You just watch out" and, coming a step nearer, he shook his fist with the grenade before my face.
"If we find arms, you see the birch?" pointing towards a tree. "That is where we will shoot you.
"Matthew, start searching,鈥� called another one standing nearby.
They threw all our belongings to the ground and started searching. The contents looked rather poorly. Some personal underwear, a frock for Marushka, a spare pair of shoes and a manicure set which the peasant examined very carefully and, turning to me said, full of authority "Aha, you are an engineer!鈥�
鈥淎 big boss!" He probably assumed it to be a drafting set.
"Maybe they hid some under the boat?" suggested another.
"Right. Turn her over, brother, and we will have a look," said the leader of the gang. They turned the boat over and still no arms.
Suddenly one of the men standing farther away called out "Look, the grazier is departing." "Hoj, hoj" they started yelling excitedly. We all looked in the direction he was pointing. On the road were a few wagons loaded with trunks, suitcases and bags, each drawn by two horses and with thoroughbred cows tethered, secured to the wagon. It was obvious they were from a big farm.
Without hesitation, the leader of the gang turned and started running towards them, calling to the others to follow him. Some followed him immediately, others hesitated, but the heavily loaded carts looked very tempting. They also wanted to witness the destruction of a really great Polish farmer. At last they all left. No time to ponder - perhaps the leader would send some of them back to guard us? We did not know their intentions. Our fate depended on them. We turned the boat back, threw our things in and started rowing and pushing with the pole as fast as we could. Some cowherds from the other side of the river who had been in the previous search tried to stop us by throwing sticks and stones at us. We did not mind, we just ducked the stones.
We travelled for six kilometres and were just completing a large bend in the river when on our left appeared a hill covered with peasant cottages. On the top stood a small white church. It was a large village. From the other end of the village, behind the forest, came rifle shots. First just singly, then a whole volley, followed by bursts of machine guns. We stopped and listened. The shooting came from the north of the river.
We put our heads together. It was not safe to continue and we decided to seek information in the village. After our previous experience, we took some precautions. Firstly we took all our maps, wound them round a stone and threw them to the bottom of the river. There might be another search and a new partisan gang finding maps of Europe, Lithuania, Poland and Germany might take me for an officer or, even worse, a spy, and could quickly wipe us out. We hid the boat amongst deep reeds and taking only the oars, went to the village.

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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