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.

PEACE! ... How oddly strange and false does this word sound, like a forged medal thrown on the conference table?
For nearly six long years we had been waiting for this big word. We were longing for it like a blessing from Providence. "Pax Vobiscum" - these words willed our imagination. Bells would be pealing from all church towers of the world. The sound, touched by a magic wand, would bring radiating happiness to all the earth. Multitudes of homeless wanderers would by returning to their homelands like a procession. We hoped that these words would heal the wounds of the earth and human hearts, covered in mourning. Freedom would blaze pure and humane. .
The word was uttered. The sound touched our ears like a bell trying to proclaim happiness ... with broken ropes .....
Somewhere in far San Francisco sixty-four nations were discussing the act of peace on earth.
In the meantime dark, odd clouds were gathering in Eastern Europe. So far no thunder was approaching nor heard but the political atmosphere was unfriendly, heavy and sultry. Nobody was breathing freely but rather like in a stuffy room.
Those who would like to spread their wings and fly home were held back by others pointing to the sky - the weather is unsuitable, a storm is hanging in the air, wait a bit ... there is still time before winter. The Cold Front was approaching ...
In the streets were posters in French, English and German. Walls and shop windows were covered with colourful announcements. People were crowding, craning their necks, reading about the victorious processions of the army, about the erection of the banner over the ruins of Berlin, about the duty of men to be registered, about the time allowed to be in the streets - until six p.m. Also about giving rights is to the foreigners as members of the allied nations and their rights to move freely outside the radius of three kilometres, about the confiscation of cars and motor bikes, about the death penalty for possession of firearms, about the new allied money, about the order to bare one's head in front of a French banner, of the order forbidding fraternising with soldiers and the local German population, about bowing to a general of the Allied Forces.
The Germans looked in horror at the photographs taken in Auschwitz, Dachau, Buchenwald, Majdanek and many, many more extermination camps which had been hidden secretly by the fallen regime. They simply did not want to believe in the existence of these huge factories of death (or pretended not to believe?) where millions of people were transformed into ashes or skeletons - for the good of the Future Happy Europe. We saw pictures of chimneys of the dreadful crematoriums, of the skeletons dug out from the pits and others, dried out skeletons barely covered with rotting skin. Under the photos was written - "These shameful acts are on your conscience!"
These placards were a plain public act of accusation of the Germans or at least an accusation of complicity. It hurt. No wonder that one night 'unknown hands' tore down these placards. It cost the town a lot. Ten thousand marks and three days home arrest for all its people. After three days when they were allowed out there were the placards back again ... these shameful acts ... are on your conscience:
More and more people came to Isny. Many of the deported had been assigned as slaves to the German farmers where they had been the 'glebae adscripti' (attached to the land) for many years, torn away from the world and other people. At last they were able to throw down their shackles and leave to look for their own people. Many came by accident of war, just being blown in by chance. They were walking around the streets just looking for their own kind. It was not hard; if they did not hear their native tongue they could spot their national colours attached proudly to someone's chest. After the Allied Forces entered Isny, all the foreigners wore their country colours to distinguish them from the locals.
One day quite different people were seen in the streets of Isny. They wore odd striped uniforms. There were quite a few of them. They were all speaking Polish. We surrounded them immediately, asking who they were. They were inmates from the Auschwitz concentration camp. They had fled from a 'Bauzug' (a train carrying labourers to building sites) and had waited for some time until able to come to our French zone.
"This is the truth" said one, pointing to the placards "a factory of death."
"My God: How many people went through these chimneys as smoke. Oh heaven: I am telling you!!! Millions!!! They were carted in wagons to the ovens. I was taken there in 1943 but just look at my number" - he rolled up his sleeve to show the tattoo marks - the number was 125,375. "Later on they even stopped numbering. It was terrible to become a 'Mussulman' (a name given to very emaciated people, thin as skeletons, near death from starvation). If a doctor saw such a 'Mussulman' he would send him immediately to the ovens. Many also died during work. When such a chap was already unable to work with a shovel, the S.S. man would hit him with a stick on his neck, hit him some more and when the fellow was on the ground unable to move much then the S.S. man, rotten bloody bastard, would put the handle of the shovel under his face and, putting his feet astride the shovel on both sides, he would swing a few times up and down and the Mussulman was finished. No gas chambers - he got his free ticket to heaven. When we came from Auschwitz to the 'bauzug' we thought we were grabbing God Almighty by his beard."
"'Why were you taken to Auschwitz?"
"I, personally, was there for political reasons. There were also some criminals but not many. During my tine the majority were Jews. There were even hutelders (in charge of barracks). When they went up in smoke the hutelders were allocated between us. Yes, my countrymen, it sure was a mangle. It is better to rot in the earth than to live in Auschwitz, I am telling you!! But now life is beautiful, like a fairy tale, and the Germans are now under our heel." Smiling and rubbing his hands he asked: "Look, folks, maybe someone has a smoke?" Many hands stretched out offering cigarettes. We Poles took care of our 'striped ones' as the people from the concentration camps were called.
In the small, crowded room of the Mitynski family stood a beautiful wireless. One of his five children got it from one of the 'Blacks' in exchange for a nickel watch and wristband. The 'Black' one already had three radios but no wristwatch and a business deal was easily performed. Thanks to this transaction I was often able to listen to the radio with my countrymen. There was usually a biggish group listening to news from London. One day there were many people. Among them was Mr. Goch who was arguing at length about the question of the 'Veto' which the Russian brought up once again. "I don't know much about politics,鈥� interrupted Mr. Mitynski. "You had better tell us what is going to happen to us. The war has already been finished quite a while. When will we be able to go home? It is still impossible. Have they forgotten us back home?"
"Who is going back home, sir, when a new war is already hanging in the air,鈥� replied Goch, a bit angry about the interruption.
"What? War with the Russki? My God, that would be the last straw. One war has just finished - people even have had no time to put their bodies and souls together. People must be getting quite mad:" Mrs Mitynska was moaning.
"You can't help it. As long as the Bolsheviks are alive there can't be peace" said Goch, full of conviction.
Maybe the Russki will give us our land back without a fight. He has that much of his own lands."
"Who is going to give back anything without a fight?"
"I am certainly not going back while the Russek is still there,鈥� said Mrs. Cybulska. "I have heard that their GePeWu have already deported seven million Poles to their Siberia. Have you listened to this morning's news?"
"No." I became interested.
"They spoke so nicely from London about the sixteen Polish generals still being imprisoned in the Soviet camps. The news was saying that the imprisoned ones had been fighting for our and your freedom."
"My God, what is going to happen? When will it all be over?" Mrs. Eitynska was very upset.
At six o'clock ... "Here speaks the Polish radio Warsaw, Poznan, Lwow, Katowice, Wilno and Baranowicze on the London waves. Good evening. We are starting our third news broadcast from the London station ..." It became quiet in the room; people were listening with serious attention. Perhaps at last we would hear something about our country, about the possibility of returning home. There were so many rumours spreading anxiety ... the voice continued: "During the battles in the far east an important part is the relation between different castes in China ... now we are finishing our broadcast.
You can hear us again on the meter band鈥�."
I switched the radio off.
"Now my old one, have you learned something of interest?" Mr. Mitynski asked his wife.
"No-one is telling the truth,鈥� moaned Mrs. Mitynski. "The radio does not say anything of importance to us and the people are saying too much. What should one do? To whom should one listen? I even don't know if I should start these bags of flour now or if I should keep them until winter. Maybe we will have to stay here during winter. How will I feed seven?"

Days and then weeks of waiting. Spring had passed and with the Spring passed the hope of a quick return home. Summer came, with the corns and their ringing bells. It was a hot summer. Our Frenchmen, the previous war prisoners, had left long ago, going back home, and the next ones to go were the Dutchmen. The Germans, who were bombed out, started to return to their ruined cities to start rebuilding a new life. We were still here. We people from the East: Poles, Russians, Ukrainians, Jugoslavs, Lithuanians and Estonians. The East was still closed to us. We were eating the well-deserved German cheese and butter, and waiting. We were free not to work. The days were ours to do as we pleased. People were walking up and down the streets, playing cards and drinking home-made vodka made from sugar. The white girls were flirting with the blacks men and the older men were organising associations, clubs, administrations and so on, thus giving their democratic temperament a wide field of action.
The Russians conformed to a less democratic system, obeying a self-appointed commandant. Their democratic feelings were satisfied by accumulating private property. Heim's factory they considered their own property. The red banner was raised on the roof and inside barter was flourishing. Machinery, tools, factory equipment were changing hands mainly going to the farmers. The most popular currency was Schnapps. With Schnapps came the wish to have a girlfriend, to take her for a walk. But why walking? Very soon pushbikes, motorbikes and even cars found their way into the camp. The boys, once mobile, were travelling over the roads, footpaths, squares, everywhere, going into ecstasies. They were taking sharp bends at sixty, gathering experience by chaffed skin, broken bones and broken vehicles. But who cares? Skin and bones will heal and there are still plenty of vehicles around. The young Ukrainian girls were dressed colourfully, the old berets discarded. In their permanent frizzy hair they wore red flowers. Couples were joining tenderly together. The young boys, Wasia, Ivan, Jaszem, Zonia, were allowed to take their girls on their bikes or even in cars. In the evening many cars were leaving the factory with boys and girls, all with happy, smiling faces. The driver, revving loudly and travelling fast, was very proud and happy - at last life was smiling on him.
The slow Lithuanians began speculating. They had to think about their future as none of them intended to return to Lithuania which had become one of the Soviet republics. They walked along streets with cases of goods such as cigarettes, cigarette papers, tobacco, razor blades, combs and other small goods which were hard to get in Isny.
The Yugoslavs, family minded, lived mostly quietly at home. They received better living accommodation and were happy with their families. The Estonians disappeared somewhere and started to build their permanent lives here in Germany. Only one Rumanian was left as he was a great friend of the Poles. He was playing sentimental songs on his violin, looking full of love at the Polish girls. He greeted everyone with the words 'Dobranoc, kochana' (goodnight, my love) as they were the only words he could speak in Polish.
Out of sheer boredom, people started to get married, making great festive weddings. They were mainly young people who worked before as slaves on tree farms. Now they arrived at the church in a farm cart covered with flowers. We were often at these weddings where I usually had to make speeches and give the bride away as only a few had their parents. There was always plenty of food - roast veal, and cakes made by the farmers daughters. There was a lot of dancing including true quick 'polka' and the last dance was always a mazurka.
In the meantime the Polish group and some other groups were creating and disbanding governing bodies, administrations and committees. There were many people who would like to be appointed as managers, directors, secretaries, etc. Meetings were called where one could hear monologues on topics such as who has the right to call himself a Pole or who are the 'Volksdeutsche', the 'Race People'. The arguments became heated and quite often ended with black eyes. Neither was the Press forgotten. For the 'sake of strengthening the Polish Spirit in foreign land:' appeared 'Gazeta Polska' (Polish newspaper). The editor was a retired major. He told me he was creating a new idea of the New Reason of State during conditions of emigration. His aim was to bring awareness to the masses and lead them to understanding of the New Reason of State in the way of .... then he would drink half a cup of 'moonshine', eat a piece of bread, sniff a lemon rind and finish his confusing argument saying: "I will show those f .... bastards from the committee who I am. Sir, before the war I was the local chairman of the Nation's Defendants Federation. Those smelly, rotten stinkers from the committee know only how to milk cows and scatter manure."
Already in the sixth issue of his paper he gave the general outline of how the new Polish constitution should be during the exile government.
In the meantime, the outside world started to take notice of Poland. On the 15th June, 1945, a conference of leading Polish politicians was held in Moscow. After a festive dinner in the banquet hall, they were invited by the Soviet Government to attend a Court session which was being held in the large hall of the Tribunal of the Red Army where sixteen Polish accused were to be tried. Many were invited, such as representatives of the Corps Diplomatique, representatives of the army and foreign journalists.
It was decided during this conference, supported by a few liberals from the London exiles, to change the name of the Communist Government in Lublin to the Government of Warsaw.
This way the Government of the National Unity was created.

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.'

漏 Copyright of content contributed to this Archive rests with the author. Find out how you can use this.