BURNING CORPSES

Record No. 506

I was taken from Dlugosz Street (as a civilian) at 6 a.m. on August 6, 1944, and led to Sokolowska Street to the so-called Arbeitskommando headquarters. The next day I volunteered for work with 50 others thinking that in this way I should be better off. We were sent to a house opposite St. Adalbert’s Church in Wolska Street, where about six hundred bodies of men, women and children were lying in heaps. Nearby were a few dozen more, which we added to the heap. Then we went to No. 60, Wolska Street, where, on both sides of the courtyard lay the bodies of more than 100 men, as far as we could judge, victims of a mass execution. In the garden of this same house we found in a thicket the bodies of more than a dozen women, children, and babies, shot through the back of the bead. We carried out from the house at the corner of Plocka and Wolska Street (a large yellow house) several dozens of bodies of men, women and children, partly burnt, who had been shot through the back of the head. From a house in Plocka Street, between Wolska and Gorczewska Streets, we carried out about 100 bodies. In one of the houses we found the half-burnt body of a man holding two children in his arms. When we returned to No. 60, Wolska Street, we made a wooden platform on which we laid the dead; and then we cleared the ground of all traces of the German crimes, such as documents, clothes, or linen, which we placed on the pile of dead, sprinkled with petrol, and set alight. While we were thus burning the bodies, a drunken SD officer arrived in a car. He picked out three men of about 20 or 30 from a group of refugees passing by. He shot them through the back of the head in the course of a "friendly" conversation. After having murdered the first man he ordered us to throw him on the burning pyre before the eyes of the remaining two.

On Aug. 8, 1944, they led us to the yard of the "Ursus" works in Wolska Street. The whole courtyard, about 50 meters (55 yards) square was strewn with dead bodies so thickly that it was impossible to pass without treading on them. Half of them were of women with children, often with infants. All the bodies bore traces of robbery. Their position showed that they had each been murdered separately and in an especially bestial way. The number of bodies burnt there amounted, as far as I could estimate, to more than six hundred. Their clothes and suitcases showed them to be refugees. When we were transporting bodies from neighboring houses I found a great number of corpses in a flooded cellar in a house at the corner of Skierniewicka Street. We could not get out more than a few dozen of them, as the water was too high. I suppose they had been thrown in here after having been murdered in the courtyard, where we still found more than a dozen bodies. Then they took us to the "Franaszek" works in Wolska Street, where we burnt in the same way as before about the same number of bodies as in the "Ursus" works, mostly of women and children. On one of the following days they took us to work in Sowinski Park, where again the bodies were mostly those of women and children; I found even pregnant women. The position of these bodies lying in a row seemed to be proof of a mass execution. We then burnt more than a thousand on two pyres. They made us search the bodies and give fall valuables to the SD-men. As to paper money, we were ordered to burn it, together with all other evidence of the crime. We worked there one whole day. Next day they took us to No. 24, Wolska Street (the “Wenecja" playground), where we brought bodies from the sector of Wolska Street between Mlynarska and Karolkowa and burnt over two hundred. On the same day we burnt about 200 corpses at No. 4, Wolska Street. In a house at the corner of Wronia and Chlodna streets we burnt about fifty bodies which were there lying half-burnt. I then saw a non-commissioned SD-officer murder an old woman off about 80 who was passing along Chlodna Street, and whose body we added to the burning pyre. In the Machlejd factory building we threw bodies brought from neighboring houses into the burning cellars. The next day we worked on the burning of bodies in the grounds of St. Lazarus’s Hospital in Wolska Street. We found the bodies of the murdered patients and of the staff in the hospital wards in beds, on the staircases, in the passages and in the cellars. From what I saw there, I suppose that all the patients and the whole of the staff were murdered. In most cases their bodies had been burnt in the cellars. After having partly burnt the bodies in St. Lazarus’s Hospital, we also burnt many in houses the addresses of which I do not remember. After returning to the hospital grounds, we found there the bodies of forty newly murdered men. On one of the next days we burnt about one hundred corpses in the sector of Mlynarska Street between Wolska and Gorczewska Street; about one hundred also in the courtyard of the Michler works and about the same number in Ptasia Street. Towards evening we removed all traces of crime from the grounds of St. Lazarus’s Hospital. Then I fell ill and ceased working on the burning of bodies.

From the reports of my companions in other working parties I conclude that this work of wiping out all traces of mass murder lasted until the middle of September, 1944. The work was organized as follows. A gang for the burning of bodies contained one hundred men, divided into two lots of fifty, strictly segregated from the remainder of the Arbeitskommando. The work was done under the supervision of fifteen SD-men under the command of an SD-officer. Part of the men prepared and arranged the pyre, and the others brought the bodies from the neighboring houses. I was informed at this time that an order to stop the executions had been given on the morning of Aug. 6, 1944. During this period (I cannot give the exact date) I saw the bodies of about 20 priests. At various times I saw individual old men and priests being murdered. For instance, in Zelazna Street an SD-man shot down two sick old women.

After the pyres on the "Wenecja" play-ground had burnt out, the ashes were thrown into the air-raid-protection trenches there. Our party of 50 men worked from Aug. 6 to 15 at the intersection of Chlodna and Wolska Streets. The second party worked in the sector of Gorczewska Street with cross-roads where there is an intersection, but I have no precise information about their work.

I cannot guarantee the accuracy of the dates I have given above, and the number of burnt bodies is only approximate, but it must certainly have been not less but rather more than I have said.

EVACUATION OF INHABITANTS

[Editors’ note : Evacuation from Elektoralna Street, August 7, 1944, through the Wola suburb. Fragment concerning Wola.]

Record No. 1

Walking through Elektoralna Street was difficult, as it was strewn with debris, and pieces of burning wood. From Chlodna Street onwards we were awe-struck by the incredible destruction. To the right every house had been burnt; to, the left they were burning like gigantic torches. It sometimes seemed as though it was one great wall of fire. Our personal experiences, driven as we were like cattle, haunted by fear, facing endless danger from the continuous shooting among the ruins, and the huge fires — took on terrible unearthly dimensions. The Germans did not for a moment give a thought to the marching columns of defenseless people. They did not stop the fight. Sometimes, when it was too difficult to proceed, we stopped and then the Germans approached and robbed us of our valuables. I lost my watch in this way. The officers and soldiers selected from among us people whose looks they did not like, and proceeded to make a thorough search in the most brutal way, very often kicking and abusing us. At some places they stood in rows on both sides — Germans to right of us, Germans to left of us — abusing us and calling us thieves and bandits.

The procession, marching slowly from St. Charles Borromeo’s Church to Zelazna Street, suffered terrible maltreatment and even torture. I dragged myself through these streets helping to carry bundles and bags. For a time I carried a little girl, Basia, two years old, in my arms. The child had lost both father and mother. The attitude of the women was deeply touching. Grave and obstinate, only paying attention to their children and bundles, they marched on like soldiers, taking care not to expose the little ones to danger. During the whole time, that is, until we reached Zelazna Street, where the women were separated from us, I heard not a single complaint, no bitter weeping, no begging for help. The women were bent under the weight of their bundles and traveling bags, and some also carried babies or small children in their arms. There were moments when the heat from the burning houses made our progress quite impossible. The wind blew up clouds of biting smoke which hid everything. Suddenly when we were at a very difficult point and in immediate danger of fire and shots, an air raid began. Panic and chaos spread among the raging Germans, and there was an awful tumult, everyone being in fear of immediate death.

We left behind us in the streets all the sick, aged and crippled. I repeatedly saw trembling old women, decrepit old men and sick people, quite stony in their indifference and exhaustion, who, being literally pushed out of our ranks, remained sitting on the heaps of stone and rubble. No one heeded them. The sight of these people, amid all the unspeakable horrors, remains in my memory as a picture of the uttermost misery.

I also saw in several places in Zelazna Street corpses of murdered people, lying in the streets. They could not have been victims of bombing or of stray shots, for they lay in groups.

In Zelazna Street the women and the children were separated from the men. The women took nearly all the baggage with them. It was a most painful sight, firstly because of the terrible exhaustion of the women who, notwithstanding, undertook to carry the baggage, and secondly because of their uncertainty about the fate of their dearest ones, fathers, husbands, brothers, or sons.

The Germans pushed us (the men) to the right side of Chlodna Street and led us through Wolska Street under the walls of burnt houses, treating us all as if we were murderers, bandits and incendiaries. They ordered us first of all to keep our hands up. Every moment, Germans with guns at the ready jumped at us with insults, blows and shouts, without any reason whatsoever. The most dreadful thing was that we expected to be shot at any moment. Machine guns were aimed at us every few minutes to make us hurry or when we were ordered to reform the procession. When we saw before us the barrels of guns, revolvers or machine guns, we hesitated, turned our backs on the soldiers, and huddled closer to the walls as if death could thus be avoided. We were close to it. There were so many moments of immediate danger during our march that I do not even remember passing many parts of Wolska Street to St. Stanislaus Church.

From Zelazna Street onwards the Germans began to rob us completely, as a rule when we had stopped, or were near barricades. They took everything from us. Not to speak of my watch, I lost all the small objects I had in my pockets, including my scissors, electric torch and even a box of matches. I saw the Germans taking purses and money from the group nearest to me, and as for documents and papers, they ostentatiously threw them away in the street. Persons who especially displeased the Germans were ordered to hold up their hands very high; they were forced to throw away even the smallest baggage. The Germans snatched off our hat’s or caps.

I tried several times to get in touch with the furious Germans in order to know what fate was awaiting us. I also tried a few times to save my things, but I do not remember any other answer but "Waaa?" "Looos" and so on. Inarticulate, animal roars.

The attitude of our men was wonderful. A uniform, massive group, like one body, flowing like a stream of lava through the street, in stony silence, stubborn, obstinate, without any begging, any cries, or any manifestation of fear or anxiety.

Our group of several hundred men was pushed onto a spot situated between St. Stanislaus’ Church and an unplastered house. It was, as we afterward found, a police station. Here the last robbery took place. We were forced to drop everything we had in our hands. Before my eyes they tore a coat from the shoulders of an old man; and the two soldiers busy at this task casually remarked “So and so, he won’t need this anymore". A heap of suit-cases, bundles, and things of all sorts lay near the place into which they pushed us.

They drove us through the entrance door and up to the first floor. It was probably an unfinished Polish school building.

I found myself with about 100 men in an empty room about 5 meters (16 feet) square. It was somewhere about 3 p.m. My companions in misfortune proudly displayed the small objects they had succeeded in keeping. Somebody drew a watch from his boot, another had succeeded in hiding his penknife. An old man pulled out a piece of bread from his breast pocket. We divided this into tiny pieces, and these again into crumbs and shared them among us. When I got a bit, I shared it with my nearest companions and felt strangely touched. It was a sort of collective Communion, and the association and feeling were so strong that we all felt it the same.

We suffered very much from lack of water. Someone found a fire-bucket in the passage, but it was empty; the water had probably been already drunk.

We were forbidden to leave the room. Every few minutes new groups were brought in. We saw that in the adjoining rooms, in the passage and on the staircase, still more people were packed.

We were still very strongly under the impression of the experiences we had undergone and full of fear as to our fate. When they drove us to this empty room we were sure that our end had come; that they would barricade the house and throw hand-grenades into it, or shoot us all and then set fire to the building.

Our depression increased as every few minutes a drunken gendarme came to us and made such speeches as: "You are all Communists; you will be all shot tomorrow". After having threatened and insulted us, cursed us, and called us names, such as "revolutionaries" or "insurgents", he would leave the room. This man terrified us absolutely. He would then stagger down the stairs, but we had had hardly time to breathe when up he climbed again and began the same sort of talk.

One of the gendarmes at last allowed us to bring in some water. Evening came. Houses were burning in our neighborhood. The heat of the fire and the smoke reached our room, making it hardly possible to breathe. The sound of explosions and shots coming from the town and the monstrous red glow of the flames completed the horror of our situation. We spent the night lying down one on top of another. Some slept.

In the morning of August 8, they drove us out of the house again like cattle, with our hands up. We learned after some time that they were taking us to the Western Station and were going to send us from there to the Reich to work.

HUMAN SHIELDS

Record No. 71

When I was wounded and in hospital, about the middle of August (I do not remember the exact date), a group of 20 or 30 men and women were driven in. They were dreadfully burnt.

They had been evacuated from the shelters under some houses in Wolska Street. When they had been in the streets, Vlassov’s men threw inflammable liquid over them and drove them among the burning houses. Their clothes at once caught fire, especially the women’s light dresses, and several of them could go no further. The others struggled on terribly burnt. As they could not walk any further, they were taken to, the hospital. Their sufferings were awful; the eyes of some were burnt out, faces were burnt, others had open wounds on the whole body. Only one-third of these victims survived; the others died after inhuman suffering.

Record No. 117

On August 7, at 9 p.m., they hunted us out of the Ministry of Commerce and Industry building, No. 2, Elektoralna Street. There were several hundreds of us, driven here from various burning houses. They drove us through the cellars of the Ministry. In the passage, a German dragged me aside and tried to violate me, but after a moment he chose a new victim from another group. Wanting to get rid of me, he took out his revolver and aimed it at my forehead. At this moment someone else passed, and he ran after that person, shooting. I took advantage of this and ran up to the Ministry of Finance, and then through the burning streets to No. 5, Solna Street, where they kept us the whole night until 11 the next morning. They then robbed us of all our watches and valuables and drove us on through Mirowski Square and Elektoralna Street towards the suburb of Wola. In the Square I saw huge bomb craters, and also burning corpses. The streets all round were on fire. At the intersection of Chlodna and Wolska Streets, and Towarowa Street, and Kercelli Place we stopped. From Kercelli Place the Insurgents were firing towards Towarowa Street. The Germans who were going into the fighting stopped us and made of us a living barricade, under threats of being shot, they ordered us to lie down across the street from one side to the other. With our backs turned to the Insurgents, we knelt or crouched and the Germans placed themselves on the ground behind us, or knelt on one knee, firing over our heads towards Kercelli Place. There were 23 of us including (two children), mostly young women. It is difficult to describe what we felt during the two hours the fighting lasted. We were all prepared to die and said the Rosary aloud. Bullets whistled over our heads, or past our ears. The noise of the German guns nearly deafened us. As if by some miracle, the bullets only hit the Germans. When the first German fell we were paralyzed with fear. My mother told me: “If I am shot remember not to shed one tear; do not complain, preserve the dignity of a Polish woman Show no weakness in their presence". Only the children wept bitterly and were greatly afraid.

The Germans were bewildered by the fact that only they were falling. They ordered the men to drag the bodies aside. We thought they would take their revenge on us. Stupefied and astonished they looked towards the Insurgent posts, and then at our quiet, resigned attitude; and the children clinging to their mothers.

At last, they let us go.

Record No. 247

On August 7, 1944, by order of the SS people from the entire town district were compelled to leave their houses, which were at once set on fire. We went in crowds of several thousands, driven and pushed by SS-men. When anyone fell, struck by a rifle-butt, those who wanted to help were struck likewise. We went through Bednarska Street and Krakowskie Przedmiescie, towards Trebacka Street. On Marshal Square the men were separated from the women; people wept and despaired. In the Saxon Garden shots were heard from the Market Place. The insurgents were firing. The SS-men began to make living barricades of us. They ordered us to lie down, beat and pushed us. Soon a rampart of living bodies was formed. People wept and cursed, but the SS-men began to fire from behind it.

The firing stopped. We went forward again under an escort of SS-men. The Ukrainians* robbed us of our watches and valuables, and tore our paper money into pieces. On the Zelazna Brama Place we saw near the Market Hall a pile of suitcases and trunks. Whoever had a good suitcase had to give it up, and it was added to the heap. We saw motor trucks coming to take away our belongings.

We continued our march. A car stopped and some SS-officers got out. They looked attentively at the passers-by, took from our ranks three pretty young girls, the two sisters R. and an unknown girl, and drove off. The girls cried and tried to escape from their caresses. An old woman fell. An SS-officer shot her through the back of the head. Again curses were heard; the spirit of revolt and thirst for revenge surged in the hearts of thousands of people.

In the church at Wola they stole our remaining belongings. All young girls were detained, even those of not more than 12 or 13. We older women were taken on with the children in the direction of the Western Station and then by train to Pruszkow, where they shut us up in a huge, dark, damp factory hall ankle-deep in mud. Moaning was heard in the darkness; a woman gave birth to a child without any help, and without a drop of water. A woman doctor was among us, but what could she do without instruments, water, or light. She had only matches. The child was born dead.

At the other end of the hall an old woman lay dying. Several people recited prayers for the dying, while others sat listlessly, absolutely broken, and others again thought of how to escape.

At daybreak, they let us out of the hall. We went on. There were several thousands of us, men, women and children. The SS-men fired over our heads. They took us to the station. We started hungry and thirsty, on our journey to an unknown destination. At wayside stations, Polish people gave us coffee, bread and tomatoes.