HISTORY OF BARTEK

After the September defeat although I wanted to fight Germans
I didn’t engage in any underground activity because I was aware of the adverse balance for us:
for one German killed they would shoot ten or more our hostages.
I planned in turn to get from Sosnowiec to Hungary and then to France but I lingered upon it.
It was hard for me to leave my mother without any means of life and to leave a woman that I loved.
After French defeat there was almost no posibility to get to Polish military units in Europe.

In November 1940 Germans killed my father in concentration camp
and this became an impulse for me to leave Poland and revenge my him.
My plan was bold: to get a night train from Sosnowiec to Vienna
and then to Munich and finally get to Schaffhausen near Swiss border.
I assumed that in free and neutral Switzerland Polish consular unit
would enable me to get to England.

I confided my plan in a few friends of mine who found me mad
but two of them decided to join me.
They were Wiesiek Nasilowski and Vladek Lukasiewicz
who only wanted to study abroad.
My asset was that I could perfectly speak German
so that they needed me and I was encouraged by their company.
At first all went smoothly.

After our first unsuccessful try to cross the borderline
the second was a success and on 25th of March
we found ourselves in Switzerland on the road near Thayingen.
We were confident on the Swiss land so that we were walking
in the middle of the road singing Polish national theme
untill some guy in a uniform took us to the police station.
We were informed there that Switzerland doesn’t grant asylum
and we have to get back to Germany.

In the face of destruction of our dreams and perspective
of serious consequences in Germany we said that they would not get us alive.
The guards finally proposed to take us to the Polish consulate
on condition that we would pay 5 marks for the taxi which,
despite having little money, appeared to us quite attractive.
Again we found out how naive we were as we quickly found ourselves
on the German border post and then at the police-station in Singen.
There was a row of machine-guns in the small room that we were led into.
After a while a group of policemen came and took the guns.
We thought that we would be shot (as it used to happen on Slovakian border)
and we decided to shout in the last moment “Jeszcze Polska...”

But nothing tragic happened. Our lies were believed and we were taken
to prison in Konstanca for 6 weeks, each of us in separate cell,
and we were finally sent to work for farmers
(we were treated very well) in different towns.
After about a month I made contact with one of my friends,
we crossed the border again and we reached Wintertur.
This time we were more caucious. We managed to contact the group
of interned soldiers from 2 Dywizja Strzelców Pieszych which fought
as French 3rd Army and after the front break on the 19th of June
crossed French-Swiss border (over 13 thousand of soldiers).
These Polish people helped us to get to Polish embassy in Brno
where we expected to get passports.

Unfortunately, we encountered another dissappointment.
We were given shelter for few days and equipped with some
of French and Swiss money but to unoccupied France we had to get ourselves
and then think what to do next. We were only instructed that
in case of any give-away we should pretend to be soldiers of 2 Dywizja.

And the give-away really happened. This time the Swiss having detained us
for 3 weeks let us loose and after some time we got to French Unoccupied Zone.
During the way on checking documents our ex-allies put us to prison
which was much worse than in Germany:
hunger, lack of hygiene, louses and bed-bugs.
By the way we were deprived of our money alledgedly
taken as a penalty. In Lyon we taken into PCK (Polish Red Cross)
custody and till autumn 1942 we were given food and accomodation.

After the landing of allied army in Northern Africa
the Germans entered yet uninvaded part of France,
the only possible way to England was through the Pyrenees.
I crossed them on the 2nd of December 1943 with the group
of Polish people who were quickly arrested on Spanish territory.
I managed to stay free 36 hours longer. I was detained on the road
between Figueras and Gerona. After 12 days and nights spent
on prison concrete in Gerona and 3 days of travel in cattle carriage
without food (I was put in chains with ex-student from Lviv
and my latter friend from Brygada Spadochronowa, Edmund Skowron)
I found myself on famous Campo de Concentracion in Miranda del Ebro in northern Spain.
Living conditions were very hard there.
For me and the group of formerly taken Polish people they got better
after German defeat in Stalingrad ( February 1943).
At the end of April the Poles were released from the camp.

On the 1st of May in Gibraltar I was given an uniform with a helmet
and I found myself on British ship. We set off in convoy
to Great Britain attacked during the way by Luftwaffe.
We landed in England in Avonmouth near Bristol from where I was sent
to Kingshaven in Scotland untill, after several movings, I got...
behind barbed wire in London. It was so-called “Patriots School”
were I was interrogated by British counter-espionage.
All in all I stood before Polish recruit board in our embassy
and I was sent to the navy. Beside the air-force it was the main
Polish unit engaged at that time (1943) in warfare.

In Polish Navy Headquaters in Plymouth
there was another dissappointment awaiting.
I was wearing glasses and they laughed me in the face:
“In Polish navy only admirals can wear glasses”.
Eye examinations proved that I had also some problems
with dfferentiating colours - that ended my dreams about navy.
I had to gat back to the centre for uniformed but unarmed soldiers.
And there, one day, came the emissaries of Brygada Spadochronowa
to recruit volunteers to this unit.
I learned my lesson well in Plymouth.
I learned by heart letters from eye examinating tables
and I hid my glasses.
My secret about being short-sighted I managed to save
untill the time of one of shooting trainings.
I was threatened with dismissing from Brygada.
Me and our commander captain Graaf had a long talk in private.
I told him my story and he took pity in me.
I stayed in Brygada and I took part in the battle of Arnhem.
It happened that I didn’t kill any German.
At first our 3rd batallion was in commander’s reserve
and German attack was beaten back without the need to use it.
Then the belated crossing to the north shore of the Rhine in the night
on 23/24th of September was stopped by the daybreak
and I didn’t get to Oosterbeek like part of my friends.
I only had to survive the fire of German artilery and mortars
but it wasn’t for my credit but the gift of fate.

After getting back to England I was long ashamed that I didn’t use my gun.
It lasted untill I took up my medical studies in Edinburgh where I was convinced
that saving life is more important than taking it away.