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Overview
Broniewski begins his memoir by offering in-depth details into a world of hunting, horseback riding, and private tutors—a world abruptly shattered after he and his family are forced to flee their country. With their family fortune abruptly gone, the Broniewskis soon find themselves living for the next five and a half years as refugees in France, as the war rages around them. As young Broniewski exchanges comfort and security for hardship and danger, he grows into manhood while enduring illness, near starvation, and imprisonment. In spite of the overwhelming odds, Broniewski seeks an education and prepares to make his way in an uncertain world.
Poland Adieu is an inspiring story that proves that the drive to achieve success and happiness in life comes not from outside influences, but from strength and perseverance found deep within the soul.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781450247214 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | iUniverse, Incorporated |
| Publication date: | 09/27/2010 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 5 MB |
Read an Excerpt
Poland Adieu
From Privilege to PerilBy Bogdan Broniewski
iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2010 Bogdan BroniewskiAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4502-4722-1
Chapter One
Complacence
Beginnings are often anticipated and celebrated. Endings often slip past us unnoticed. Only when we look back over our lives do we know when something ended: the last time we spoke to or touched someone we cared about, the last time we played a childhood game, the last time we were someplace we would never see again. Such an ending, completely beyond my imagining, abruptly altered the course of my life when I was just seventeen years old.
It was the opening of the hunting season. My brother, Andri, and I were planning to hunt partridges that morning. We were on the family estate, Przybyslawice, at Garbow in Poland. We had wakened early, eager to be out at first light. Andri was just eleven months younger than I, and the two of us spent almost all of our time hunting and horseback riding. We didn't know that there was anything remarkable about our lives. Hunting and horseback riding were a centuries-old tradition among the wealthy classes in Poland. Until that day, it was the only life we had known.
The family coachman, as always, brought a horse-drawn carriage (called a bryczka) to our front steps. Built low to the ground, the carriage was practical for traversing difficult terrain. The coachman sat in front, and Andri and I sat in the rear, accompanied by one of our faithful dogs, Pufik, who was an eager participant in such outings.
As we rode past large ponds that surrounded the estate, we could see and hear that they were alive with the bustle and chatter of water birds. The neighboring fields were home to partridges and pheasant, and beyond lay forests that sheltered large game, including deer and wild boar. As young children, we had hunted with shotguns that could not shoot far or do much damage. Now that we were older, we owned real hunting rifles of high performance, and we expected to bring home a game bag full of partridges.
Events did not go as expected that day. We were interrupted by a distant roaring that grew louder and louder, until soon we felt the ground reverberating beneath our feet. We looked up and saw a dozen or more planes flying low overhead. It was an astonishing sight. One rarely saw planes in Poland's skies. Air travel was a thing of the future, and Poland's defense was still based almost entirely upon its cavalry, as in World War I. Our country had virtually no modern armored divisions or warplanes. Our coachman, who fancied himself an outstanding mechanic, declared confidently, "Those planes have good motors. They can't be ours. They must be German."
It was September 1, 1939. Standing in that heretofore quiet field, we were witnessing the opening hours of a war that would wreak devastation across three continents and leave between fifty million and seventy million people dead—more deaths, and in a shorter amount of time, than any other war.
Andri and I had lived almost obliviously to the threat of that war, although it had been hovering over Poland for more than a year. Indeed, the threat had begun earlier than that when Hitler violated the Treaty of Versailles. Under that treaty at the conclusion of World War I, the victorious powers—primarily France, Great Britain, and the United States—stipulated that the Rhineland was to remain a demilitarized zone. This region, which included the Ruhr Valley, was where heavy industry was situated and was fundamental to any German war effort. In 1936, Germany invaded the Rhineland. France and Great Britain protested vigorously, but in order to avoid an armed conflict, they let it pass.
In March 1938, the Nazis annexed Austria and, after a short while, seized part of Czechoslovakia, an area on the western border known as Sudetenland. Soon after these alarming developments, Great Britain's Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, and France's Premier, Edouard Daladier, went to Munich to meet with Hitler. There was a strong sentiment to avoid war at almost any cost, particularly among the French, who had suffered the greatest losses during the deadly war years of 1914-1918.
France and Great Britain agreed to recognize Hitler's fait accompli in the Rhineland—as well as in Czechoslovakia and Austria. In return, Hitler was not to undertake any new military operations in Europe. All the world's newspapers showed what was to become an infamous photo of Chamberlain in his triumphant return from Munich, as he held aloft a document for a cheering crowd saying, "I bring peace in our time."
In the spring of 1938, the Wehrmacht invaded the rest of Czechoslovakia. Finally, Great Britain and France understood that Hitler intended to conquer Europe. Poland would be next. Hitler was visibly searching for a pretext. German propaganda followed a previous scenario—accusations of so-called atrocities committed in Poland against German nationals. Then, the situation in Gdansk (also known by its German name, Danzig) gave Hitler another opportunity. The Treaty of Versailles stipulated that Danzig was to be a free city, managed jointly by Poland and Germany—it was situated on the Baltic Sea between the two countries. Hitler wished to annex the territory to the Reich, a demand that Poland rejected. It was clear that Hitler planned to attack, but first he sent his Minister of Foreign Affairs, Joachim von Ribbentrop, on a famous visit to Moscow, where a nonaggression pact was signed. In reality, it was a secret agreement to partition Poland between Germany and the Soviet Union along precise lines of demarcation. The agreement was signed in August 1939, less than a month before Poland was attacked. By the end of 1939, Germany and the Soviet Union would divide Poland between themselves. Again, as in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Poland would be partitioned among foreign powers.
My father considered the possible dangers as he learned of German aggression and the beginning of the persecution of the Jews. Our rich Jewish friends, the Falters and Kronenbergs, were preoccupied by the situation in Germany and were considering expatriation. Perhaps this influenced my father's interest in emigrating to the United States, where he felt he would have the resources and opportunities to build an industrial fortune. But our mother was opposed to going—she did not want to be so far from her family, particularly her sisters, with whom she was very close. So the idea was abandoned. It was 1936.
Two years later, after the annexation of Czechoslovakia, German propaganda was unleashed against Poland; the meaning was clear. But my father encountered a famous clairvoyant named Ossowiecki, who, among other bits of flim-flammery, insisted that he could see a glow of light escaping a person's head, just before that person's death. Once at a reception, he had pointed to one of the guests and said, "That person is going to die in a few hours." Supposedly, his prediction proved to be true, and when the word spread, the most important people in the country wanted to consult with him. When my father met him, Ossowiecki said, "I can give you my full assurance. The war will not take place." My father apparently took this as truth, and thus our last opportunity to escape with some of our fortune in hand was lost.
Preparation for war was felt in Warsaw, where we were living during the school year, although we didn't take it very seriously. Everyone assumed that if Hitler dared to attack, the Polish army would inflict a quick and bloody defeat. Andri and I attended classes once a week and went on field trips, wearing military-style uniforms, several times a year, where we acted out mock attacks.
In this period, the army was regarded as an especially honorable career. We would pass soldiers in the street who wore beautifully polished boots and sparkling uniforms emblazoned with numerous decorations. When two military men passed each other, they exchanged impressive salutes. At age seventeen, I found this quite glamorous. I hung large pictures in my room that depicted the uniforms of the different military ranks. I even put up pictures of the many medals and decorations, and I developed a lifelong interest in military strategy. When a lieutenant directing our field trip exercises told me I would make a good soldier, I imagined myself as a great general. I did not, however, imagine the reality of war that we would soon face.
My youthful ignorance and indifference to world events at that time almost matched the indifference of our elders. We spent part of the summer of 1939 at Jurata, a beautiful holiday resort situated on the Hel Peninsula, which separates the Bay of Gdansk from the Baltic Sea. Much of the elite of Polish society were vacationing at Jurata that summer. It was a very prestigious vacation spot with a deluxe hotel and individual villas that were surrounded by gardens. Our parents had built a villa there several years before and named it Zosi, after my mother. In the summer of 1939, the sporting events and parties were going full speed, as if that way of life would go on forever. The brilliant society of Jurata seemed unaware that in only weeks, its insular and privileged life would crash to an end.
Chapter Two
Chaos
As Andri and I stood in the field that morning, watching the German airplanes overhead, all thoughts of hunting vanished. The world beyond our narrow, privileged lives burst through the thin veneer of comfort and security that sheltered us from uncomfortable truths, and it demanded that we instantly think and act as serious players in a life-or-death drama. Our immediate decision was to head homeward as quickly as possible. As our little coach bounced and jolted its way over the rough terrain, we sat silently, too disturbed to even talk.
It was still early in the morning when we arrived home. Just as we approached our front steps, a plane, which we recognized as one of our own, flew above us, almost touching the treetops. A few seconds later, a second plane followed at a higher altitude. Then we heard a crash in the distant fields. The German goal had been to destroy the small Polish air force on the ground. A few planes, like the one we saw, managed to fly away but were soon shot down by the superior German planes.
News of the invasion had already reached Garbow. But beyond that, the radio gave no useful information. During the hours that followed and throughout the next day, our house filled with relatives and friends who were fleeing eastward. A type of group psychosis, bordering on panic, took hold. There was enormous confusion about what to do.
My mother tried to remain calm, but her anxiety showed in every gesture and every word. She rushed to embrace Andri and me when we arrived home, and her voice choked as she used our pet names—Andri was called Jedrek, and I was known as Danek. She kept repeating, "Your father should be returning home soon."
My father was still in Warsaw on business. Phoning was extremely difficult for the phone system, which was inadequate at best, was ill-prepared to meet the demands of an emergency. Finally, late in the day, he reached us. In his short and hurried message, he said only that he was "preoccupied with events on the front" and was making "certain arrangements." The next day, early in the afternoon of September 2, he arrived home. His presence did not provide the hoped-for calming reassurance. Instead, he appeared extremely depressed and anxious. "The Germans are approaching Warsaw. The suburbs of the capital and the fortress of Modlin have been bombarded. We have to act quickly." He knew little of what was taking place elsewhere.
We later learned that early on the morning of September 1, several armored divisions had struck at strategic points throughout Poland. Supported by intense bombardment, most of the enemy divisions had penetrated deep into Polish territory. By the time the sun set that evening, Poland's fate had been sealed. And the Polish army? It had been overpowered. Its methods were pathetically outdated compared to those of the invaders—our light armaments and brave cavalry achieved some initial, brief successes, but they were soon overcome by the superior German tanks, armored cars, and air force. The Luftwaffe—the German air force—was relentlessly bombing strategic objectives throughout Poland. It struck a devastating blow at communication lines, creating widespread chaos.
The German plan consisted of two priorities: to immediately neutralize Warsaw, the center of decisions and communications; and to spare Poland's coal mines and industries in Silesia from destruction, as these were important to the future operations of the German army. This plan was perfectly executed, using a strategy devised by the famous Prussian strategist of the nineteenth century, Helmuth von Moltke. It called for a concentrated and powerful attack at one point to rupture the enemy front, and then to perform enveloping maneuvers through the breach, which would allow the attackers to encircle enemy forces and attack from the rear. This gradually created a vise-like hold upon the Polish forces, strangling and destroying them.
Poland's forces were spread too thin along the entire length of the Polish-German border, and it was soon breached. The armored units of the famous General Guderian severed the defense lines in the north, and his tanks rushed toward Warsaw and the huge fortress of Modlin. By the third day of the war, German forces reached Warsaw and, shortly thereafter, encircled it.
One should not believe, however, that there were no major battles. The Polish engaged in a fierce struggle to defend their country. But at such a price! In spite of its inferiority, the Polish military managed a desperate and courageous struggle. Acts of heroism were widespread. One example, which also illustrates Nazi methods, occurred in northern Poland. The action took place close to the mouth of the Vistula River, where it flowed into the Baltic Sea. A fort at that point, the Westerplatte, allowed a Polish garrison to control boat traffic entering the Vistula. Thus, this was an important strategic point, and the Germans considered its destruction a major priority. Shortly prior to September 1, the pre-dreadnought German battleship, the Schleswig-Holstein, had asked permission of the garrison to pay a friendly visit. In spite of the strained political situation, the officers of Westerplatte felt it would be discourteous to refuse. At the end of August, as agreed, the battleship entered the Vistula and anchored, facing as close as possible to the fortress. While the captain of the Schleswig-Holstein was celebrating Polish-German friendship, his crew had important tasks to accomplish—to site, with precision, the positions of the batteries of the fortress; to locate the weak points; and especially, to adjust its twenty main artillery guns.
At four o'clock in the morning on September 1—before sunrise—the Schleswig-Holstein entered the mouth of the Vistula for the second time. It positioned itself at exactly the same place it had occupied before. Once this maneuver was accomplished, the ship immediately opened fire on the fortress at point-blank range with its 280 mm and 150 mm guns. The salvos lasted exactly six minutes, after which a German detachment disembarked from their ship and tried to enter the fortress through openings created by the bombardment. The Poles—armed with just three artillery pieces, four eighty-one medium mortar Stokes, and forty-one machine guns—were able to repel the attack, with severe losses for the Germans. The Polish side lost four men, whereas eighty-two Germans were killed. The struggle lasted until late in the day, when the Luftwaffe joined in the battle. A rain of incendiary bombs poured down on the Westerplatte. However, in spite of enormous damage, in what seemed a miracle, the Westerplatte, manned by just 182 soldiers, was able to hold out for eight days. During that time, the enemy forces of approximately 2,800 German soldiers and 800 navy men were temporarily immobilized and suffered severe losses. But on the eighth day, everything stopped. The fortress had been reduced to a mass of rocks. The Germans killed the radio telephone operator who refused to give them the radio codes, then took the approximately 113 Polish survivors into captivity. After giving military honors, they occupied the moon-like terrain—all that remained of the fortress. The Westerplatte Resistance is remembered as one of the many heroic acts of the Second World War.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Poland Adieu by Bogdan Broniewski Copyright © 2010 by Bogdan Broniewski. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Acknowledgements....................viiPreface....................xi
Introduction....................xiii
1. Complacence....................1
2. Chaos....................6
3. Garbow—The Beginning....................13
4. Bohdan's Heirs....................16
5. The Gerlicz Family....................21
6. Change and Progress....................25
7. Family Ties and Tensions....................31
8. Lessons Out of School....................35
9. Some Close Calls and a Cure....................38
10. Hunting and Horses....................42
11. Hunters and the Hunted....................49
12. Warsaw—No. 25 Mokotowska....................53
13. Servants and Friends....................57
14. A New Locale and New Times....................61
15. Time Plays Out....................66
16. Flight....................111
17. On to Bucharest....................116
18. Destination Paris....................118
19. Poland Is Lost....................121
20. A Difficult Passage....................123
21. Back to School....................127
22. The German Juggernaut....................130
23. Our Flight Resumes....................134
24. To Spain (Almost)....................137
25. Flight or Scenic Tour?....................141
26. Temporary Shelter....................144
27. Hunger, Cold, and Sickness....................150
28. The Gestapo in Our Midst....................154
29. Turning Points....................158
30. The Occupation—Ever More Dangerous....................163
31. Fifteen Days in Hell....................166
32. A Change of Fortune....................169
33. Liberation, Celebration, and Retribution....................174
34. Devastation and Tragedy in Poland....................178
35. Peace and Change in Sight....................184
36. Our Lives Change Course....................187
37. The Mind Calculates; the Heart Resolves....................191
Afterword....................215
Appendix A: Polish Campaign....................218
Appendix B: Guide Bleu Maps, 1939....................221