The Squadron Disbands

Once it became clear that the army was really being disbanded and the troops were to be dismissed there was much confusion and discussion amongst the officers about what they would do next and where they would go. Very few of them thought that returning home was an option and one of the squadron members suggested they could try breaking through to Romania. A reconnoitering patrol reported that there was a German detachment just a few kilometres away as well as motorised German troops moving towards nearby Tomaszów.

20/09/1939

The situation had become very unclear and the officers had questioning looks on their faces. After the machine guns had been silent for quite a while, an artillery shell fell some distance from us. The officers were wavering, I was tired and weak and somewhat bruised from riding the horse. I looked around and saw two large trees nearby and next to them a thickly growing blackberry bush. I sat down there, took off my gas mask and lay down with my head on my rucksack and stretched out the whole of my body.

Shells started to get nearer, another two fell with a crash into our copse and I noticed that the officers had got up, walked over to their horses and trotted away. Two minutes later a shell exploded close to me. I pressed myself into the ground with my helmet on my head and heard only the splintering of the wood in the trees which were sheltering me. After a while I lifted my head and saw that the shell had cut right into the mound on which all the officers had been sitting two minutes earlier. It was a miracle that they had left that spot when they did, and not a moment later.

This was the last time I saw anyone from the squadron. From that day on I didn’t meet one of them again.

Here the narrative of the squadron ends and that of all of the south-west army – those who held back the Germans from the border. After their last shot, the whole of the south of the country from Silesia to Lwów, from the Tatras to around Warsaw, finally fell at the hands of Nazi Germany or their silent allies the Soviet communists.

I was alone and evidently felt it, as I wanted to rouse myself to catch hold of a horse and gallop after them. But my body had grown heavy as though something was pinning me to the ground, not wanting me to get up. I just gazed with blurred vision in their direction and my head fell back on my rucksack. Anyway, was it possible to move at that moment? There was a dreadful din, a roar, shells showered down as though by the sackful and machine guns rattled somewhere in the distance, sending whistling bullets into the woods. I heard a squall as if from a slaughtered horse. I prayed quietly asking God not to take me now this way, with my sins, but to give me the possibility of confessing them. And the strangest thing, especially today when I recall that moment, the unusual thing that happened amongst the racket from the shells, amongst the retort of the machine guns, the whistle of the bullets – I simply fell asleep completely as normal.

The sun was already high when I woke up. I couldn’t come to myself.

Where am I? How did I get here? I look at my watch – 11.30. It must be around mid-day because the sun is high.

But mid-day when and where, I didn’t know. I lifted my head and first of all I saw a pair of horses, standing by the trees, one of them neighed which caused me to hide my head abruptly. Gradually I began to remember what had happened in the morning. It was quiet now. Quietness prevailed all around; there was no disturbance just the occasional snort of a horse. Not a trace of anyone could be seen, nor could I hear anyone walking in the forest. I waited a moment before gathering up my belongings.

I got to my feet slowly and left behind only my gas mask, so as not to overburden myself with non-essentials. There was still nothing to be seen. As carefully as I could, I moved towards the edge of the forest and was surprised to find it was only about 20 metres away at the most. In front of me was a vast empty field belonging to a manor and surrounded by some 500 metres of undulating terrain. On the right was the road to the manor and somewhere in the distance, also slightly to the right, I could hear the murmur of engines moving along a road. I crouched in a ditch near the forest and hid in the thick bushes intertwined with scratching branches of brambles. I got into a suitable position so that I could see everything without being visible myself. I lit myself a cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly so as not to reveal my position and thought about my situation.

I still had three or four matches, which was enough for cigarettes up until nightfall. I had a whole packet of cigarettes, a rarity – a little wet but still entirely good enough to smoke – this was the most important thing. Apart from this I had one biscuit from the squadron’s rations from the previous evening and half a canteen of coffee, which I had picked up as we left in the morning. As it was already the afternoon, I ate half the biscuit and sipped the coffee with… a thought…

I was still convinced that ahead of me was a narrow belt of the German line (not having any idea and not believing for a moment that the Bolsheviks would appear in Poland), and that beyond that lay our free land, in which our army was positioned. So I should break through unnoticed across the German line and make for our army. It was crystal clear that I could only work my way through at night. Moreover, I knew that beyond the field lying in front of me and behind the hill, there was a village and that there were Germans there, as the patrol had reported in the morning. 

It seemed I had two ways out. I would try to make a dash to the village at night and would either hide there in a barn, buried in the straw, take stock of the Germans and then go on further, or if it’s possible, go straight through the village and, while it’s still night time, cross the German line. For now, I decided to wait until dusk and then move forward.

Meanwhile I divided the number of matches over the time I had to wait and smoked one cigarette each hour. Around 3pm I heard the sounds of a conversation, then footsteps and then… a distinct conversation in German. I sat motionless, almost holding my breath while two German foot soldiers armed with revolvers walked out of the forest no more than 5 metres away from me. I was afraid they would notice me, but they didn’t look around and went confidently down to the road that led to the manor. I only caught a name – Heinz – other words escaped me because they had strong Bavarian accents. The closer it got to the evening the more frequently they came through this way. Then I saw a reconnoitring plane flying low over the field. Later still, a horse patrol crossed the field about 300 metres from me. Then twice more as dusk slowly drew nearer, some German infantry passed close by me in this same place as earlier.

This was just the beginning of a long journey for Józef spanning many months as he attempted to reach the Polish army in exile. He wrote in detail about the encounters he had and the plan that he and later his companions began to formulate and their lengthy and difficult expedition.