Slipping down the ruins, the shadow disappeared into one the cavernous spaces that now provided shelter to the many homeless citizens of Warsaw, leaving only the trail of her shoe in the dew as a souvenir of her recent movements. Brygid, with only fifteen years to her name, had left her childhood behind years ago. Sliding under the thin tablecloth, she joined her brothers Jakub and Filip and settled in to catch what little sleep was available. Although it had been a month, she still was not used to the feel of the rubble jabbing her slight frame. Fingering the material, once so rich…now worn thin, she remembered that day so vividly – Brygid had made it home from her clandestine study group, made necessary after the Germans disestablished Polish high schools and universities, only to find her mother’s precious china in pieces on the floor, the apartment in shambles, and her mother no where to be found. As Brygid searched the apartment for clues to what had happened, sniffles from under the kitchen counter alerted her to her brothers’ presence. Crouching to eye level, glass shattering under her feet, the boys lunged into her arms.
“They took Mother” they cried. “She wouldn’t go, wouldn’t leave us. But they hit her with their gun and drug her out.”
“Who? Who took Mother? The Soviets? The Nazis?” Brygid said, valiantly fighting back her fear.
“The Nazis. They said they know about Father. They said if she didn’t tell them where he is and what he was planning, they’d deport her. Mother cried. She said she didn’t know. Hadn’t seen Father in months. They didn’t believe her, Brygid. They beat her and took her away,” Filip, the younger of her two brothers, replied between shivers.
“I’m going to get them. I’m going to get them and get Mother back before they deport her. You’ll see. I’ll go tell Father. He will not let anything happen to her,” Jakub declared, angrily pushing his tears away and puffing with indignation.
“We can’t tell Father, Jakub. Think. They will be watching. Not only would they have Mother, but then they’d have Father and us, too,” Brygid reasoned, but the gut urge to run to her Father’s arms for comfort still lurked in her eyes. Their father, Col. Józef Szostak, was a colonel in the Home Army, fighting gallantly for the freedom of Warsaw and deeply involved in the underground resistance. He had left their home not two weeks before, for their own protection. “We will go on, boys. We will go on just like Father and Mother instructed us, as if nothing has changed. I will try to get a letter to Father as soon as I can.” Just then, the earth began to tremble. It seemed to come from miles away, but the crumbling sound crescendoed. Brygid scrambled to grab the family Bible, their carefully stashed valuables, and what little food remained of their daily rations, and wrapped them in her mother’s prized table cloth. Throwing the bundle over her shoulder, she called to her brothers, “Hurry! We must take shelter!” As the trio ran down the street, the echoes of their home crumbling to the ground would soon become the least of their worries.
The year was 1944 and the citizens of Warsaw had been in captivity for five years. Warsaw had fallen to the Germans early on in the war, but the brave people of Warsaw never ceased to fight. The citizens of Warsaw created an underground government. The military leaders remained in Warsaw, while the political leaders resided in London to escape assassination by the Germans. On August 1, 1944, Warsaw began its uprising, lasting sixty-six days, involving everyone – men, women, and children. As the Germans dropped missiles (nicknamed “Cows”) that reduced its victims (human and building alike) into flames, Warsaw took up arms, in both body and mind, against its foe. Warsaw’s Boy and Girl Scout equivalents became couriers for the Underground. Students fought through learning subjects such as Polish history, and medicine, which the Germans had prohibited. After numerous unmentionable atrocities and casualties, Warsaw fell to Germany through the signing of a treaty that the Germans would not hold to[LHN1] . The Warsaw Uprising Museum summarizes this time in the following manner:
Demolished during the fighting, Warsaw is methodically razed to the ground by the Germans. Losses of cultural heritage are immense. Ancient buildings and churches, all of the Old Town, monuments, libraries, museums and archives are in ruins, their collections turned to ashes. The Soviet army that seizes Warsaw on 17 January 1945 completes the destruction[1].
As a post-war visitor to Warsaw, it is the people and their history that are the draw into the city. While many European towns boast of century-old towers, castles, and homes, the majority of Warsaw is made up of Communist and industrial era buildings. The Old Town, a section in which the citizens fought so hard to defend, has been rebuilt by its people as closely to the remaining paintings as possible. Walking throughout Centrum on a chilly January day, it is hard to see the beauty of Poland’s great capital. As you sludge through the salty, sandy, dirty street grit that clings to your shoes and climbs up your pants legs, you are constantly reminded that you are in a twenty-first century city. And yet, unlike many cities one may be accustomed to at home, the locals do not pass by the weary traveler, laden with luggage and maps. No, they offer to take you to the main intersection, help you onto a bus, or point you in the right direction.
If the friendly attitude of the city-dwellers does not bring a smile to your face, and place interest into your heart, a simple walk from Centrum to the Old Town might do the trick. As we approached one of the ogród’s (gardens), rumored to be quite lovely during spring, summer, and fall, but now a mere ghost of the life that might fill the vast park, the University of Warsaw had displayed quite an interesting set of stations where people could read in English or Polish of the history of the city and her people. The site whet our appetite, and we began to feel a hunger to learn more. That hunger led us (not to the museums - that we’d see tomorrow!) to a wonderful restaurant – the Cieple Kluchy. Filled with university students, the restaurant listed typical Polish dishes. The Russian Pierogi (made of potatoes, white cheese, fried onion, and smoked bacon, and topped with salt, pepper, and additional bacon) came highly recommended. We couldn’t have been more pleased and full – especially after eating two entrees with drinks for 24 pln! A short walk brought us to the Old Town, where there were quite a few interesting and visually pleasing buildings, but nothing that stood out as fantastic at first glance.
Returning to our lodgings, we admired the wealth of Christmas decorations that twinkled and winked from Warsaw’s businesses. The shining star was the Palace of Culture and Science, the seventh tallest building in the European Union, a gift from the Soviet Union to Poland in 1955. In front of the skyscraper lay a bed of ice, filled with laughing Poles, skating to a mix of American and Polish music – we couldn’t help but join in on the fun!
The next day introduced us not only to Polish pastries (quite a treat, I assure you!), but more importantly to a wealth of knowledge that will forever influence my view of Poland. We made two stops this day, first to the Pawiak Prison and then to the Warsaw Uprising Museum. Pawiak, a major hub of clandestine activity, was occupied Poland’s largest political prison. The prisoners and the administration, doctors, and numerous staff members of Pawaik created an underground liaison system. They helped to create and run the Home Delegation and Home Army; their intense involvement made it possible to plan and execute famous sabotage activities and also to try and sentence the Gestapo officers and other criminals. The prison cells are the size of a typical small freshman dorm room. Before the war, two prisoners would be housed in each room; as the war progressed, up to eighteen prisoners would be crammed into that same space. Of the 100,000 prisoners who spent time at Pawaik, 37,000 died there (through execution, interrogation, or “seminatural” death), most of the others were sent to the numerous concentration camps in Poland. The museum we see today is made of remnants of the original prison, blown up by the Nazis in late August of 1944. The caretakers are eager to meet all who journey to Pawaik and give a very personal tour of the small facility. Each exhibit is touching and meaningful, and there are translations of the Polish documents and exhibits in English. Of even greater value, the museum is set up in such a way that it is easy to chronologically follow the timeline of events. Particularly poignant is the fact that you are standing on the grounds where all the atrocious interrogations and brave furtive planning occurred. Viewing the outside world through the bars guarding Pawaik, only to see endless fences and deathly barbed wire, enabled me to have a mere glimpse of the life those prisoners faced day by day.
The Warsaw Uprising Museum, while not in such a poignant location, tells another part of the Warsaw battle story, but in a more high-tech manner. While Pawaik had a wealth of information to read, the Warsaw Uprising Museum was much more visually and audibly stimulating. The museum has numerous movies and clips of authentic footage of propaganda, battle scenes, and Polish underground newsreels. Walking down the winding hallways, you might see anything from a recreated Warsaw Sewer, a German BMW motorcycle with sidecar, a German bunker, collections of authentic guns, or personal memorabilia. The museum covers such a wealth of information, from the beginning of the war until today. Everything is told in wonderful detail; however, it is hard to follow the direction which one should take to learn of each exhibit chronologically. Some facts of the uprising that I learned of here I will have in my heart for the years to come. A moving example, one of the child couriers, only twelve years old, died while carrying his post. The museum not only had a picture of the funeral, but also displayed the shirt in which he was murdered. It has enriched me greatly to have experienced both museums – for each brought something a little different.
It is through visiting these two museums that I have come to so greatly appreciate Warsaw. If I had not visited either museum, I would have left with the opinion that Warsaw was an industrial city, much like those in the United States, which left dirty prints upon my pant hems and my memory. But after learning of the passionate bravery and patriotism that the people of Warsaw displayed during World War II, and their determined fortitude to rebuild what others had bombed (a fate much worse and on a much larger scale that what we’ve experienced through September 11th), I could not be more proud and more respecting of this town and her people. And as I traveled throughout the city – on her trains, trams, and buses – the citizens I met could not have presented a kinder representation of the city as a whole. It is with this in mind that I highly recommend to anyone a visit to Warsaw – a business center rebuilt upon the ashes of splendor.
[1] This quote may be found on the Warsaw Museum website: http://www.1944.pl/index.php?a=site_text&id=12147&se_id=12218
“They took Mother” they cried. “She wouldn’t go, wouldn’t leave us. But they hit her with their gun and drug her out.”
“Who? Who took Mother? The Soviets? The Nazis?” Brygid said, valiantly fighting back her fear.
“The Nazis. They said they know about Father. They said if she didn’t tell them where he is and what he was planning, they’d deport her. Mother cried. She said she didn’t know. Hadn’t seen Father in months. They didn’t believe her, Brygid. They beat her and took her away,” Filip, the younger of her two brothers, replied between shivers.
“I’m going to get them. I’m going to get them and get Mother back before they deport her. You’ll see. I’ll go tell Father. He will not let anything happen to her,” Jakub declared, angrily pushing his tears away and puffing with indignation.
“We can’t tell Father, Jakub. Think. They will be watching. Not only would they have Mother, but then they’d have Father and us, too,” Brygid reasoned, but the gut urge to run to her Father’s arms for comfort still lurked in her eyes. Their father, Col. Józef Szostak, was a colonel in the Home Army, fighting gallantly for the freedom of Warsaw and deeply involved in the underground resistance. He had left their home not two weeks before, for their own protection. “We will go on, boys. We will go on just like Father and Mother instructed us, as if nothing has changed. I will try to get a letter to Father as soon as I can.” Just then, the earth began to tremble. It seemed to come from miles away, but the crumbling sound crescendoed. Brygid scrambled to grab the family Bible, their carefully stashed valuables, and what little food remained of their daily rations, and wrapped them in her mother’s prized table cloth. Throwing the bundle over her shoulder, she called to her brothers, “Hurry! We must take shelter!” As the trio ran down the street, the echoes of their home crumbling to the ground would soon become the least of their worries.
The year was 1944 and the citizens of Warsaw had been in captivity for five years. Warsaw had fallen to the Germans early on in the war, but the brave people of Warsaw never ceased to fight. The citizens of Warsaw created an underground government. The military leaders remained in Warsaw, while the political leaders resided in London to escape assassination by the Germans. On August 1, 1944, Warsaw began its uprising, lasting sixty-six days, involving everyone – men, women, and children. As the Germans dropped missiles (nicknamed “Cows”) that reduced its victims (human and building alike) into flames, Warsaw took up arms, in both body and mind, against its foe. Warsaw’s Boy and Girl Scout equivalents became couriers for the Underground. Students fought through learning subjects such as Polish history, and medicine, which the Germans had prohibited. After numerous unmentionable atrocities and casualties, Warsaw fell to Germany through the signing of a treaty that the Germans would not hold to[LHN1] . The Warsaw Uprising Museum summarizes this time in the following manner:
Demolished during the fighting, Warsaw is methodically razed to the ground by the Germans. Losses of cultural heritage are immense. Ancient buildings and churches, all of the Old Town, monuments, libraries, museums and archives are in ruins, their collections turned to ashes. The Soviet army that seizes Warsaw on 17 January 1945 completes the destruction[1].
As a post-war visitor to Warsaw, it is the people and their history that are the draw into the city. While many European towns boast of century-old towers, castles, and homes, the majority of Warsaw is made up of Communist and industrial era buildings. The Old Town, a section in which the citizens fought so hard to defend, has been rebuilt by its people as closely to the remaining paintings as possible. Walking throughout Centrum on a chilly January day, it is hard to see the beauty of Poland’s great capital. As you sludge through the salty, sandy, dirty street grit that clings to your shoes and climbs up your pants legs, you are constantly reminded that you are in a twenty-first century city. And yet, unlike many cities one may be accustomed to at home, the locals do not pass by the weary traveler, laden with luggage and maps. No, they offer to take you to the main intersection, help you onto a bus, or point you in the right direction.
If the friendly attitude of the city-dwellers does not bring a smile to your face, and place interest into your heart, a simple walk from Centrum to the Old Town might do the trick. As we approached one of the ogród’s (gardens), rumored to be quite lovely during spring, summer, and fall, but now a mere ghost of the life that might fill the vast park, the University of Warsaw had displayed quite an interesting set of stations where people could read in English or Polish of the history of the city and her people. The site whet our appetite, and we began to feel a hunger to learn more. That hunger led us (not to the museums - that we’d see tomorrow!) to a wonderful restaurant – the Cieple Kluchy. Filled with university students, the restaurant listed typical Polish dishes. The Russian Pierogi (made of potatoes, white cheese, fried onion, and smoked bacon, and topped with salt, pepper, and additional bacon) came highly recommended. We couldn’t have been more pleased and full – especially after eating two entrees with drinks for 24 pln! A short walk brought us to the Old Town, where there were quite a few interesting and visually pleasing buildings, but nothing that stood out as fantastic at first glance.
Returning to our lodgings, we admired the wealth of Christmas decorations that twinkled and winked from Warsaw’s businesses. The shining star was the Palace of Culture and Science, the seventh tallest building in the European Union, a gift from the Soviet Union to Poland in 1955. In front of the skyscraper lay a bed of ice, filled with laughing Poles, skating to a mix of American and Polish music – we couldn’t help but join in on the fun!
The next day introduced us not only to Polish pastries (quite a treat, I assure you!), but more importantly to a wealth of knowledge that will forever influence my view of Poland. We made two stops this day, first to the Pawiak Prison and then to the Warsaw Uprising Museum. Pawiak, a major hub of clandestine activity, was occupied Poland’s largest political prison. The prisoners and the administration, doctors, and numerous staff members of Pawaik created an underground liaison system. They helped to create and run the Home Delegation and Home Army; their intense involvement made it possible to plan and execute famous sabotage activities and also to try and sentence the Gestapo officers and other criminals. The prison cells are the size of a typical small freshman dorm room. Before the war, two prisoners would be housed in each room; as the war progressed, up to eighteen prisoners would be crammed into that same space. Of the 100,000 prisoners who spent time at Pawaik, 37,000 died there (through execution, interrogation, or “seminatural” death), most of the others were sent to the numerous concentration camps in Poland. The museum we see today is made of remnants of the original prison, blown up by the Nazis in late August of 1944. The caretakers are eager to meet all who journey to Pawaik and give a very personal tour of the small facility. Each exhibit is touching and meaningful, and there are translations of the Polish documents and exhibits in English. Of even greater value, the museum is set up in such a way that it is easy to chronologically follow the timeline of events. Particularly poignant is the fact that you are standing on the grounds where all the atrocious interrogations and brave furtive planning occurred. Viewing the outside world through the bars guarding Pawaik, only to see endless fences and deathly barbed wire, enabled me to have a mere glimpse of the life those prisoners faced day by day.
The Warsaw Uprising Museum, while not in such a poignant location, tells another part of the Warsaw battle story, but in a more high-tech manner. While Pawaik had a wealth of information to read, the Warsaw Uprising Museum was much more visually and audibly stimulating. The museum has numerous movies and clips of authentic footage of propaganda, battle scenes, and Polish underground newsreels. Walking down the winding hallways, you might see anything from a recreated Warsaw Sewer, a German BMW motorcycle with sidecar, a German bunker, collections of authentic guns, or personal memorabilia. The museum covers such a wealth of information, from the beginning of the war until today. Everything is told in wonderful detail; however, it is hard to follow the direction which one should take to learn of each exhibit chronologically. Some facts of the uprising that I learned of here I will have in my heart for the years to come. A moving example, one of the child couriers, only twelve years old, died while carrying his post. The museum not only had a picture of the funeral, but also displayed the shirt in which he was murdered. It has enriched me greatly to have experienced both museums – for each brought something a little different.
It is through visiting these two museums that I have come to so greatly appreciate Warsaw. If I had not visited either museum, I would have left with the opinion that Warsaw was an industrial city, much like those in the United States, which left dirty prints upon my pant hems and my memory. But after learning of the passionate bravery and patriotism that the people of Warsaw displayed during World War II, and their determined fortitude to rebuild what others had bombed (a fate much worse and on a much larger scale that what we’ve experienced through September 11th), I could not be more proud and more respecting of this town and her people. And as I traveled throughout the city – on her trains, trams, and buses – the citizens I met could not have presented a kinder representation of the city as a whole. It is with this in mind that I highly recommend to anyone a visit to Warsaw – a business center rebuilt upon the ashes of splendor.
[1] This quote may be found on the Warsaw Museum website: http://www.1944.pl/index.php?a=site_text&id=12147&se_id=12218
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