大象传媒

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by a volunteer from Northumberland on behalf of members of Michael Pawlak鈥檚 family, principally Romaine Lillie, his Daughter-in-Law, and three of his children, Susan Ashcroft, Denise Coulson, and Andrew Pawlak. They fully understand the site鈥檚 terms and conditions, and the story has been added to the site with their permission. It draws upon personal recollections, a song written by Michael鈥檚 youngest son, Andrew, a poem written by Susan, and the transcript of a taped interview with Michael by his Grandson, Paul Ashcroft, in 1996 when Paul was fourteen years of age.

Romaine Lillie was very close to her Father-in-Law before his death in August 2004. She found him to be a wonderful, inspirational person. Perhaps, the most important point about his story is that, despite the horrors endured at several concentration camps, including Auschwitz, Michael never lost his trust in human beings. He was the most open, loving, forgiving, kind and warm-hearted man that Romaine has ever known. Considering what he had seen and been through during what, for many, would be their most formative years, he was an incredible, amazing person, someone who would do anything for anybody.

Michael Pawlak was born near Lublin, a city in Poland eighty miles south-east of Warsaw. A couple of weeks before his death, he told a harrowing tale of life at the outbreak of war. The farming community around Lublin was close-knit such that he referred to neighbours as his 鈥淎unts鈥� and 鈥淯ncles鈥�. He was at a nearby farm when the German soldiers turned up, demanding butter. With her husband away, having earlier been arrested by the Gestapo, the 鈥淎unt鈥� told them she had none. The soldiers did not believe her, so they took her baby from its pram and, between two of them, they pulled at the baby and whipped it until they killed it. In piecing together and trying to make sense of Michael鈥檚 story as a boy entering his teens, perhaps that incident had demonstrated to him the cruelty of the Nazi regime and motivated him to join the resistance movement when he was thirteen years of age.

Sometimes, with other young boys he would kick a leather cased football down a railway track, inside which was secreted a message from one branch of the resistance movement to another. The Germans arrested Michael in 1940, having caught him distributing anti-Nazi propaganda leaflets. He was interrogated and tortured by the Gestapo who wanted to know the origin of the leaflets. When interviewed by his Grandson, Michael recalled beatings on the backside, having three fingernails pulled off, and being put in an empty cell for twenty-four hour periods, without a bed or light, which pattern of interrogation and torture went on for days. He couldn't provide answers for his inquisitors for he knew nothing, not where the leaflets were from, nor the name of the man who gave them to him. He was destined not to see his family again until 1959, long after the Second World War ended.

Michael was taken to D眉sseldorf, Germany, for trial. In 1941, when he was fifteen years of age, he was tried, convicted and sentenced to hard labour for two years, following which he was sent, first, to a camp at Heydebreck in Upper Silesia, run by the local police, where he worked in a brick factory, loading and unloading cement, bricks, sand, etc. Later, Michael was sent to several other concentration camps including, as a sixteen year old, Auschwitz, one hundred and fifty miles from Warsaw, then to Mauthausen-Gusen where he worked in the nearby stone quarry and from where he was liberated on 5 May 1945. Having arrived at Heydebreck as a healthy young man, Michael immediately decided that, to survive his ordeal, the only way to do so was to work hard and to maintain a low profile, which, largely, he did. As such, Michael avoided the gas chambers in which so many people were killed. Poles were low down the league table when it came to the respect shown by the Nazis to those in their forced labour and concentration camps. Scandinavians were top of the table and survived best, then came the French, Italians, Russians and Poles and, at the bottom, the Jews. When he died, Michael still bore the tattoo with his prisoner number, 165381.

At Heydebreck, labourers had two 鈥渕eals鈥� a day. In the morning, they received only black ersatz coffee, made primarily from chestnuts, but they were given no food until they returned to their quarters at the end of the working day, usually at about 19:00 hours. Typically, their evening meal comprised turnip soup, a few jacket potatoes, and a slice of bread with, if they were lucky, a tiny sliver of margarine. Auschwitz was a concentration camp run by the Sch眉tzstaffel (鈥淧rotection Squad鈥�), a Nazi military organization better known as the SS. The food there was monotonous, too. Every day the labourers got the same thing, in the morning three quarters of a litre of coffee, at lunchtime three quarters of a pint of turnip soup and, at tea-time, a small loaf of bread to be shared between six people, which came with, either, a spoonful of marmalade, a spoonful of jam, two slices of salami, or a little cheese spread.

In every concentration camp where Michael was, sleeping arrangements were, generally, much the same with three-tier bunks, straw mattresses and a single blanket. Inmates slept in their work clothes, even if they were too wet to sleep in as their body heat eventually dried the clothes, in a fashion. They had only one set of clothes and their underclothes were changed monthly. When shoes wore out, wooden clogs replaced them. When socks wore out, the inmates went without but suffered with blisters as a consequence. Life was extremely hard.

Treatment by camp guards varied. The Capos were the worst, being German criminals allowed a small measure of freedom from captivity in normal prisons and taken to the concentration camps to help the SS control their prisoners. The Capos had the power to do with people whatever they wanted, including killing them. Michael recalled that many SS guards, also, were killers. He viewed those that killed as murderers and uncivilised. At Auschwitz, whenever inmates passed a SS man they had to take off their cap and march to attention. However, on one occasion Michael doffed his cap but failed to walk to attention for which 鈥渃rime鈥� he was beaten up by SS guards. In his previous camp, at Mitsevitse, he received twenty-five strokes on his backside from a whip, a belt cut in three strips, because he had lost his soup dish, which another inmate had stolen from him. He was made to count each stroke, in German, and if inmates made a mistake in doing so, the beating started afresh.

Michael Pawlak returned to Auschwitz and Mauthausen-Gusen many times after the war. He is thought to have been one of the first people to overnight at the latter, staying in what used to be the Commandants residence. Perhaps, these visits were good therapy for him. He ended up leading a very quiet life and everybody around him loved and adored him. He read a lot, both in English and in Polish, never fiction always faction. His wartime experiences were with him every day of his life. In the 1996 interview with his Grandson, Paul, Michael admitted to having had horrible nightmares ever since his captivity. He could not forget the bodies, the blood, the torture, and seeing people thrown down the side of the stone quarry at Mauthausen-Gusen. He saw SS guards stand on people鈥檚 throats and chop and beat people to death. Along with other prisoners, he had eaten grass and human flesh, to satisfy his hunger. In the weeks before his death he talked about his experiences a lot, it was never anything hidden, it was always very open. When Romaine Lillie鈥檚 son, Blue, who was three and a half years old at the time, picked up a stone at his Granddad鈥檚 home and asked where it was from, rather than say he鈥檇 picked it up on a beach or somewhere, Michael told him that it came from a bad place. Romaine said 鈥淵ou tell him, Michael鈥�, so Michael told him a little about it. The stone was from Mauthausen-Gusen.

At one point during his recollections in the weeks before his death, Michael said that if he had ever thought his wife and children would have to endure what he did, had he access to a gun he would not have hesitated to shoot every one of them, to save them from the agonies he suffered. He鈥檇 said much the same thing in the 1996 interview with Paul Ashcroft, to whom he explained that, if he shot them, that鈥檚 it, death is immediate, but if people were faced with the prospect of years of suffering it was, for him, horrible to even contemplate the idea of members of his family having to fight for their very survival, fight for a slice of bread, for something to survive on. Michael counted himself extremely fortunate to have survived but he would never have allowed his family to go through what he did. His earnest hope was that younger generations would never allow what happened under Nazi rule during the Second World War to recur.

Andy Pawlak wrote a song about his Father鈥檚 wartime experiences. It鈥檚 an incredibly emotional song that also tells of the legacy to a survivor鈥檚 family. Andy had a recording deal with Island Records and the song would have been included on his next album had not Universal Records bought out Island Records, which resulted in all sorts of change such that Andy鈥檚 album was not released. The words follow:

"In my dreams, I鈥檓 hanging by my thumbs,
Feel the lice and hammer blows dealt by the men in Swastikas,
And all I am is tattooed on my arm.

Chorus: And when I wake, it鈥檚 almost gone,
I am your blood I am your genes,
I am your b***s**t and your dreams,
I have your wit and I have [am] your means.

Until the day that I go cold, I keep your aura in my bones,
It will be told, you can sleep free,
Leave it to me.

In my dreams I feast on festered dog,
I smell the people in the smoke, spewed by the heat and furnaces,
I am thirteen and seen all man can do to man.

Chorus and second verse repeated, twice."

The reference to 鈥渉anging by my thumbs鈥� stemmed from an incident when Michael worked on a farm, picking potatoes. He decided to steal one to eat later, raw, which he secreted in his shoe but the guards found it when he returned to camp. His punishment was to have his hands tied behind his back then to be hoisted by his thumbs on a rope until his feet were just off the ground and he was left hanging, all night. Another recollection from working on the farm, which produced vegetables for the German Army, related to planting cabbages. As an act of defiance albeit a very minor one, before planting them Michael broke off the root, so they would not grow. The story always made him smile.

As a tribute to her Father鈥檚 suffering, Michael鈥檚 daughter, Susan, composed a poem entitled 鈥淟egacy鈥�:

"I dread the nights, the longest nights, the nights when I become
the spirit of a haunted man - when I become my father鈥檚 son

I can feel his pain, I can feel his fear, I can hear his desperate cries
from deep inside my own dry throat, I can see with his hollow eyes
I stand in line and wait to know, will I go left or right?
Will the man in black decide that I should make it through this night?

No God to send my prayers to, no humanity can I find
No compassion, no dignity, no help of any kind
I鈥檓 naked now, I鈥檓 stripped - of everything I knew,
of life, of hope, of future plans, of things I want to do

I鈥檓 walking down a tunnel, I鈥檓 pushed inside a cell
With a thousand other innocents to face a tortured hell
I鈥檓 waiting for the water from the shower-head up on high
But know that this is just another agonising lie

I鈥檓 breathing deeply, taking in their filthy putrid air
Let them have what鈥檚 left of me, there鈥檚 not a soul to care

What made me think that I鈥檇 survive? That I deserved to live?
That I could follow in his shoes - What have I, like him, to give?"

Mauthausen-Gusen was a group of forty-nine Nazi concentration camps situated around the small town of Mauthausen in Upper Austria, about twelve miles east of the city of Linz. On 5 May, 1945, the 41st Reconnaissance Squad, part of the 11th Armoured Division with the 3rd American Army, liberated the camps there. The prisoners were unaware of their imminent liberation. That day started normally, at 05:00 hours, at which time twenty-three thousand prisoners gathered on the parade grounds after 鈥渂reakfast鈥�. The only thing different from the norm was that Wehrmacht men, ordinary German Army soldiers, had replaced the SS guards on the watch towers and between the barbed wire. The Capos were still there, hitting and kicking people and putting them in ranks. Suddenly, the main gates opened and three soldiers, two Americans plus a Pole, entered. Local people at Linz had alerted the liberating Americans of the existence of the concentration camp and those three men had been sent to check it out. The Polish soldier, speaking in Polish, said, 鈥淪tand still, you are free now, the war is finished, stand still, do not move because the wire around the camp has still got the electric juice in it, wait till we find out where we can disconnect it鈥�. After ten minutes, he returned and said, 鈥淵es, you are free now, the power is off so just go wherever you like鈥�. Amazingly, lots of Polish flags appeared, Michael knew not where from.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the prisoners immediately exacted revenge on any Capos still on the parade grounds. Knives appeared just as quickly as the flags had done, and the majority, if not all of the Capos were killed where they stood. Wehrmacht soldiers were mere spectators to this. When they came off the watch towers, their weapons were thrown down and, simply, they walked off, away from the camp. The liberators organised those inmates who were fit enough, to replace the German guards before leaving. The Americans returned two or three days later, with aid from the Red Cross as well as from the Polish and British Armies. Michael Pawlak had not been fit enough to stand guard. The liberated were soon processed and sent to various hospitals for treatment and convalescence. When Michael arrived at N眉rnberg, Germany, where he convalesced for three months, he weighed only forty-six pounds! He was nineteen years of age.

As soon as the camp was liberated, the SS guards ran away. The inmates were frightened in case they returned, so anyone who was strong enough was formed into a guard around the camp. Organised search parties went to nearby villages and towns intent on capturing any SS men found. Every day twenty to thirty were returned to the camp, where they were unceremoniously shot. Apparently, the Americans told the inmates they had fourteen days in which to capture ex-SS guards and do with them whatever they wanted. Every SS man captured received the same punishment, despite their protestations and pleas for mercy, 鈥淢ein frau, Mein kinder - Hitler schweinhund!!鈥� During the 1996 interview, Michael explained to his Grandson that for five years the SS had killed other people yet, when it came to the crunch, 鈥淭hey cried eyes out, but that鈥檚 the way it was!鈥�

When Michael had recovered sufficiently he joined the Polish Army. After serving in Italy he arrived at Boulmer, on the Northumberland coast, where he waited with many other Polish soldiers for repatriation. He met his future wife, Joan, while stationed there. She was a girl from North Shields who worked at Boulmer in the NAAFI. She had learnt to speak Polish because, at one time, she had a Polish boyfriend who was a fighter pilot. Walking past the cookhouse one day where Michael was working, Joan heard him say, in Polish, 鈥淪he鈥檚 cute鈥�, to which she responded, also in Polish. They later married and brought up five children. Two daughters still live in County Durham, Denise at Sunderland, Susan at Consett, a third daughter, Joan, lives at Whitley Bay, one son, Michael, is currently in Cornwall serving with the Army, and the youngest son, Andy, still lives near Romaine at Alnmouth, Northumberland. When he left the Army, Michael worked, first, as a miner at Ashington before the family moved to Staffordshire where his back was broken when the seam he was working in, collapsed. Doctors told Michael that he would never walk again but, through sheer determination and fortitude, he proved them wrong. Later, the family moved back to Preston village, North Shields where Michael and his wife bought, and ran, the village store before they retired to Leadgate, County Durham, first to Watling Bungalows, then to the Dene in Medomsley.

Michael Pawlak鈥檚 family believe that everybody should know what people like him endured during the Second World War. Rightly, they are very proud of him.

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