Private Kazimerz Szmid
Unit : 1st Parachute Battalion, 1st Polish Independent Parachute Brigade Group
I was born on a farm in Eastern Poland near the town of Nieswiez, where I lived with my father, mother, brother and sisters. When the Germans invaded Poland in 1939, it did not really affect us much, until two weeks later, when the Russians invaded us and this was to change our lives dramatically. The NKVD arrived and took down all the details of our family and farm. Then on February 10th 1940, at approximately 3.00am in the morning, soldiers arrived with rifles and bayonets and ordered us to pack what belongings we could take and we were escorted on our sledge to Baranowicze, twenty kilometres away, to the railway station. All the Polish families in our area were being removed like this. It was Stalin's revenge for defeating the Bolszevik's in the 1920 war, and we were now to pay a heavy price, by being forcibly deported against our will to God knows where.
We were herded and loaded like animals into cattle trucks, and the doors were locked and bolted from the outside. We spent a long time on this train without being allowed out or fed. Sanitation consisted of a hole in a corner, with no privacy. The only time the doors were opened were to allow the bodies of those that had died to be thrown out onto the frozen ground, we couldn't even bury them. Eventually we arrived at Wologodzkaia Oblosc, Siberia. This was to be our new home. We were put to work in the forests every day and we were expected to produce our norms, if we didn't then it was simple, we wouldn't be fed. The work was hard, we were given warm clothes and boots and it was common to have to work in temperatures of minus 40 centigrade. The forest was a dangerous place, we didn't know what lurked there, food was minimal. My mother at one point exchanged her wedding ring for some bread to eat. People started to die, typhus hit the camp and affected the old and weak in particular.
In August 1941, we were given an amnesty against our crimes, which we didn't know what they were. An NKVD officer came and told us that we were free and could travel where we liked. A Polish Army under General Anders was forming in the south of Russia somewhere. My brother left to join it with some of his friends, and two weeks later we followed. The trains were totally unreliable, my eldest sister was in a wagon with her friends which became disconnected from ours and we were left behind. This left father, mother, my younger sister and myself. Eventually we were hooked up to another train. I can't begin to describe the absolute mess, confusion and uncertainty that existed. We were making our way to Tashkent in Samarkand. We didn't have to pay on the trains, but had to wait sometimes days until one stopped and we were allowed to board, we had to fend for ourselves. At a place called Kuybyshev, my father and I left to find some food and when we returned the train had departed with my mother and younger sister. We tried to catch them up but this was an impossible task. At this point my father became ill and eventually died, I don't know where. I buried him and was on my own. What I did to survive I would not rather talk about. Words cannot accurately describe what I was going through, and you couldn't begin to visualise it. The hunger was unbearable, and I would lie there thinking what I would give for a piece of bread. I was in rags, with only one boot, the other was in cloth. I joined up with a band of other youths like myself in Urtah. We tried to survive.
Somehow I kept being drawn towards the station, I don't know why. Probably in the hope that my mother would be returning to find me. One day I went yet again to the station and happened to be there when a troop train carrying the recently formed Polish Army was passing. They asked me if I was Polish, then they pulled me on board and gave me some food, and I travelled with them to Jalalabad. There was a recruiting office there and in order to survive I was encouraged by these soldiers of the 5th Kresowa Division to enlist. It was my only hope. I stood in a line until it was my turn. The recruiter asked me my year of birth and when I told him, he said I was too young and to go away. I left the building and went out to the back where I proceeded to cry my eyes out. At this point a Polish Officer appeared and asked me what the matter was. I informed him that I was on my own and had just been turned down for being too young. It didn't help as at that time I was very small for my age. He told me to get a grip of myself, go into another queue and give a year which would make me old enough. You have to remember that we had no documents. This is what I did, I lied about my age and was accepted into the 5th Kresowa (Borderland) Division in March 1942. I joined in rags, you could run your hand down any part of my body or clothes and you would have a fistful of lice, they were horrible. I was made to wash myself clean, my hair was shaved, and I was issued with brand new British Army clothes, as well as equipment and weapons. It felt terrific to be clean and freshly clothed again after all this time. My old clothes were burnt and you could hear the crackling of the lice as they burnt.
Army life was good, I got three meals a day, I took orders, trained hard and became a good shot. At this point I was informed that a woman with a daughter with my surname was living approximately twenty kilometres away. I wrote a letter and sure enough it was my mother and sister. They arrived on Good Friday. Because I was now a soldier they came under the protection of the Polish Army. My mother was employed in the wash-house.
In April 1942 we came under British Command and moved to Persia, now Iran. We sailed from Krasnovodosk to Pahlevi, on a ship that was completely overloaded, fearing all the time that this rust-bucket would be deliberately sunk by the Russians, our "allies". We disembarked, washed and were issued with new uniforms. My mother and sister followed one week later. We were taken to Iraq and lived and trained in the desert, it was hard work. At first we were made to eat and build up our strength as we had come out of the "worker's paradise", as virtual skeletons. One day when I was peeling potatoes, standing in front of me was my brother who had found me. We embraced each other and when I had finished my duties, went and had a drink. I informed him of fathers death and that mother and our sister were close by. He told me that he was in the 3rd Carpathian Rifle Division, and that my eldest sister was also in the Polish Army as a transport driver.
I then volunteered and was accepted into the 1st Polish Independent Parachute Brigade, based in Scotland. A number of us had been accepted. If you ask me why, it was because they paid more. We boarded lorries which travelled across Transjordania to Haifa on the Red Sea. I think that someone was looking after me because the regiment that I had left, suffered big casualties in later battles, especially at Monte Cassino in Italy. In later life, when I visited Monte Cassino Cemetery, I saw the names of lots of soldiers that I remembered, especially the corporal in charge of my platoon who was good to me. After two months we boarded an enormous cruise ship Isle de France. There were 10,000 soldiers on board of which 500 of us were Polish. Before the war this had been a luxury Trans-Atlantic Liner, which had now been converted into a troopship. Now twenty of us were crammed into a cabin in hammocks. We sailed to Madagascar, Durban, Rio de Janeiro, Freetown, and eventually Glasgow. During this time I crossed the equator twice, and we were frequently concerned about being attacked and sunk by submarines, which fortunately didn't arrive, as we would not have stood a chance. My mother and younger sister were sent to Uganda, where they lived out the war at a refugee camp in Koja. My brother was sent to Italy and fought all the way in that campaign, with the Polish 2nd Corps.
In June 1943 I arrived at the Polish Parachute Brigade Training Centre in Leslie Scotland. This was an elite outfit, formed and trained by Colonel, later Major-General Sosabowski, whose vision of it was that it would be specifically dropped onto the capital Warsaw, to assist the planned uprising against the Germans when the time came. It would have been a suicidal mission, with no chance of success, and I was relieved that it never happened. The training was intense and after building up our fitness we were sent to Ringway Airport, Manchester for two weeks. We had to complete eight jumps, two from a basket, five from a plane and one by night from a balloon. After this in September I qualified as a paratrooper and received my badge. I was very proud of this. We stayed in Leslie until May 1944, and then onto Stamford in Lincolnshire. On one occasion two of our planes collided with the loss of twenty six paratroopers, during practice jumps, which we could not afford to suffer. We went on more manoeuvres and exercises at Salisbury and were placed under the command of 1st British Airborne Division, under General Urquhart as part of the 1st Allied Airborne Army. We were prepared for several jumps into France and the Low Countries, but as the invasion was moving so quickly, they were cancelled.
We were then informed that we would be taking part in Operation Market-Garden, to be dropped on the third day at Arnhem. This was not to be a rosy experience. Our officers briefed us and prepared us, however the night before I didn't sleep at all. At 5.00am we were woken for breakfast, hardly anyone ate, we gathered our equipment, collected our parachutes, boarded lorries and made our way to the airfields. Nobody spoke. At the airfields the weather was poor, fog, we couldn't take off, so we sat around all day hoping that it would clear. The flights were cancelled and we returned to barracks which were not expecting us. Nobody again slept or ate due to the tension. The next day the same poor weather conditions. However our glider element had taken off the previous day from another location. Waiting, waiting, nothing we could do about it, we were so keyed up. Orders to board, travel to the edge of the runway, engines shut off, disembark. I took all of my 500-cigarette allowance and managed to smoke it all whist waiting. In the evening the same order came through, drop postponed, and we stood down. The tension got to one of my comrades, who put his gun to his head and before anyone could stop him, pulled the trigger and blew his head off. Back to barracks, another poor night and return to the airfield the next day. In the afternoon of the 21st September we finally took off.
It wasn't until we were on the airplane that we were informed that our drop-zone had been changed, and we were to land at the village of Driel. As we approached the target we flew through heavy barrages of flak, which threw our aircraft about. Green light, jump, and immediately into a hail of bullets by Germans on the ground who had been forewarned of our approach. I landed luckily unhurt, but the rest of the 1st Battalion to which I belonged had been recalled back to England, which we didn't know about until later. In the fluid situation we were assigned to the 3rd Battalion. I remember being cooped up in a barn and patrolling at night. There was an orchard outside and we helped ourselves.
Because we were on the south side of the River Rhine and the British on the north, we were meant to support them. But we had jumped with no river crossing equipment. After a few days, we were informed that boats would be arriving that would hold eighteen men. We organised ourselves into groups and moved down to the waters edge in the dark. We waited nervously. For a lot of us, including myself, it was our first time into action and a lot of us were very young. When the boats arrived they were only big enough for twelve people and I was pulled out. So I stayed in defensive positions on the south side. We then supported the British and Polish paratroopers withdrawal from the northside. After this was completed, we marched all the way back to Nijmegen, the rest of the 1st Battalion had landed at Grave and joined us. We spent a week guarding airfields and patrolling until we again marched to Ostend and boarded a ship to return to Stamford in October.
General Sosabowski, who had been very critical of the plan for Market Garden and was not popular with the British higher command, was made a convenient scapegoat of this operation and removed from command of our Brigade. It was difficult to see what else we could have done to assist in this operation, landing late, no river crossing equipment. We again departed by ships to the continent in May 1945, VE Day, to take part in occupation duties in Germany, at Kleve and Oosterbruck with the 1st Polish Armoured Division, as part of the British Occupation of Germany Forces. Nearby was a Polish prisoner of war camp which they had liberated, mostly females. We performed patrol duties and kept the Germans under control, they respect law and discipline.
Now that the war was over, the British did not know what to do with us Poles. We were the fourth largest Allied Army after the Russians, Americans and British. We had been fighting the longest, and had never let any of our allies down. In the Polish Army of the West to which I belonged, there were over 250,000 of us. Politics started to play a huge part and everyone was sensitive not to offend the Russians, or start another war against them. It was conveniently forgotten that they had invaded Poland along with Germany. One thing that really hurt us and really annoyed all of us Poles, was that in 1946 there was a Victory Parade through London, to which every nation sent troops, or representatives, even a lonely policeman from Fiji. We Poles were not invited. Most of us in the Army had no homes to go to, and our families were scattered or killed throughout the world. As a result of the Yalta Agreement Poland came under the sphere of Russian influence and our borders had been moved to the west, so that my home and farm what remained of it was now in Russia. The Polish Government-in Exile, to which we had pledged our allegiance of loyalty was disclaimed by all her former allies.
Some soldiers returned back to Poland, as they still had families and homes there. Many were subsequently arrested, put on trial, deported to be never seen again, imprisoned or executed. Those that returned went to live in the west of Poland. I did not fancy returning and being made a Russian citizen or living in land obtained from Germany.
We returned to Britain in May 1947 and I joined the Polish Resettlement Corps. By this time my brother had arrived from Italy, my eldest sister was working here in a Polish hospital, and my mother and younger sister arrived in 1948. I then became a civilian, after being honourably discharged from the Army in 1948 and put on the Reserve List. I have made England my home and became a British Citizen.
Copyright to A. M. Szmid.
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