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.

A few hours passed. Night came. Soldiers stopped talking and were lying down on the floor. It became quiet, only interrupted by snoring.
Marushka had still not returned. I became worried. Another half hour passed and my anxiety increased. At last she arrived. She was very tired and her feet were wet and dirty, as she had to return by foot on an unknown road in the darkness of the night. Unfortunately without any results. She had tried various offices, even the Gestapo, but to no avail. The border to Occupied Poland was closed. It was a depressing night. Tired, dirty, without sleep, without a roof over our heads and a completely unknown immediate future. In addition, military policemen came and advised us that all lights had to be switched off as Soviet bombers were over Ostrolenka and an alarm situation was announced. It was not a pleasant thought to spend the rest of the night in a railway station during a possible air raid. Marushka wanted to leave the station building.
It was impossible to push our way through the first class waiting room, especially with our rucksacks. All the floor space was covered with sleeping soldiers. It was so dark that we had to hold hands so as not to get lost between this mass of human bodies. Outside it was again raining heavily. We found an empty corner under the ticket counter and, holding tightly to each other, slept heavily.
I was awakened by new noises. Some of the soldiers were leaving. I asked which train they were boarding and got a short reply - "To Warsaw". It was like an electric shock. Marushka and I looked at each other and, without further words, the decision was made. Taking our rucksacks, we also went to the platform to try once again our luck. Dawn was just breaking. On the platform were only soldiers, not even one civilian. We certainly felt out of place. We pushed our way in amongst the soldiers. On the platform stood a military policeman with his helmet and his official metal shield on a chain around his neck.
We held our breath. At last we heard the engine and the train came to a halt at the first platform. The train was reserved for the 'Wehrmacht' only. The soldiers began to board the train, with us behind them. The policeman shouted. Marushka rushed to him and, shoving her paper under his nose, spoke in her fluent German. "This is my husband. We are travelling on military permits and are entitled to use all transports available to the army." He looked at the military rubber stripes known to him and, before he could make up his mind, Marushka jumped after me onto the train. The doors were closed and the train started to move.
What would happen to us now? Would there be another control point at the other border point? We had no idea but we were moving towards Warsaw and this was important. The train was going very fast, not stopping anywhere.
One hour, another half hour. I was watching, full of concentration. Again a station - here was written the word "Tluszcz" - not a German translation of the name. It meant we were in Poland proper at last.
What a joyous feeling when, on the station where the train stopped, all the passengers boarding the train were speaking Polish. The atmosphere changed too. There was a lot of talk, laughter, jokes, and all in Polish. We also felt much safer now as before we were the only civilians on the whole train. Now there were more civilians than army men. Even officially our train changed its look. The Germans moved to special wagons reserved for them and other cars had the sign 'For Civilians'. The train was overcrowded but at each station more people were boarding it. They were hanging on steps and lying on roofs as there was certainly no more space inside. We passed Wolomin, Radzimin and were entering Warsaw.
There was a light drizzle that morning. We watched the stations as we passed. At last Warsaw East. The train stopped. What an emotional moment - the heart seemed to stop beating. After five long years we were back again. "Do you see that is that where they sell soda water?" I asked Marushka. It was here, five years ago, where we met so miraculously, also here that we left Warsaw on the day of the evacuation in September 1939.
The hut was standing but the station was partly in ruins and we could see some barracks being built. On the lower platform were three exits with signs "For the Army,鈥� "For Germans,鈥� "For Poles". Next to the exit for the army was a large board with the following writing "Attention - Entering the town, have rifles at the ready. There is danger of attack."
We left the train at the main station, intending to go home by dorozka (similar to a fiacre coach). Here we encountered our first surprise. We had with us some 'Eastmark' as well as some German marks but the driver informed us that in Warsaw only zloty were acceptable. Therefore the idea to go by dorozka fell through. It was a fair distance to my uncle's home at the end of Rakowiecka Street where we intended to stay. We thought we might go by tram.
Near the main station were a lot of people. Business was flourishing. Before we reached the tram stop we were offered sweet cherries, ice cream, socks, biros, books and saccharine. After a long wait, we boarded the No.3 tram. Once more we were in trouble. The conductor advised us that he was unable to accept anything but zloty. When I told him that we were evacuees returning home after five years and we had not even one zloty, he became very friendly and, patting me on the shoulder, told us to continue travelling 'on the black'. A young fellow, listening to my conversation with the conductor, pushed 5 zloty into my hand. When I thanked him and asked for his address so that I could return the loan, he left his place and, wishing us all the best, jumped off the tram. I returned with the money to the conductor, wanting now to pay my fare. He refused to take the money. "Look, sir, we are nearing the end of my line. Don't bother about the ticket - keep these five zloty for a happy beginning." At the last stop he helped us with our rucksacks. I was deeply touched by this episode in the tram that somehow gave me encouragement to face the future. We will survive among our own people, I thought, hopefully. Our travel was nearing its end. Hardships, troubles and obstacles were overcome. We passed the gate to the big block of flats in Falata Street, No.6. Two flights up and we rang the bell. Hugs and kisses, warm welcome, a hot bath, dinner and a well-deserved rest. Lying in the comfortable bed, I looked at the well-known room. On the walls, as before, were hanging the portraits of my grandparents. The big calendar hanging on the wall showed the date as 19th July 1944. Marushka was already asleep. From the room next to ours, I could hear the ticking of the clock and, from the street, the noise of the passing trams reached me. I also went to sleep.

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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