May-June, 1946
Colling had not expected to encounter mountains in Poland. Like most Americans, and in spite of his Polish ancestry, he had always pictured Poland as a land of flat steppes. In truth, southern Poland, called by the Poles the Mawopolska, was an alpine region. Kracow, ancient capital of Poland, lay tucked in a valley amid green hills, surrounded by distant snow-tipped ranges.
Their journey south had been as slow and tiresome as before, with frequent side-tracking and much rocking and jolting over hastily-repaired roadbeds. It was not until the morning of the second day after leaving Warsaw that they reached the main railway station on the eastern edge of Kracow. Avoiding the several horse-drawn taxis that waited at the station, they walked towards the Rynek Glowny, the famous great square of the city, keeping up the appearance of a poor refugee couple.
At a farmer’s market a few blocks from the square, they asked directions to somewhere to stay and were told that old Pani Macziewsie took in boarders and might have a vacancy in her house.
Their knock brought the gray-haired Madame Macziewsie to her door. When Colling explained that they had heard she had rooms to let, she asked if they had money. When Colling replied that they did, she ushered them over the threshold and up three flights of narrow stairs to a garret room with a single small window overlooking a roof at the rear of the house. The only article that could be said to be furniture was a small bed with ropes in place of springs. A mat on the floor appeared to be intended to provide additional sleeping accommodations.
When Madame Macziewskie smilingly told Colling the room would be 200 zlotys a day with meals, he apologized and made as if to leave, saying that he and his wife could not afford so much. The old landlady stopped him and asked in a less friendly way if 100 zlotys was too much. Colling shook his head and with eyes downcast, admitted that it was. He pulled a few of the Russian-made zloty notes from his pocket and showed her that he had only 300 zlotys left. The old woman grudgingly agreed to accept 50 zlotys for the night, but she would not feed them. Colling paid her, adding that if he could find work the next day, they might be able to stay longer.
Once Madame Macziewskie had clattered off down the stairs, they opened their suitcases and removed their money and the extra forged documents. Colling tucked the Luger into the back of his belt and found a corner in the eaves in which to conceal the box of cartridges. The cash was divided between Elizabeth’s purse and the inside pocket of Colling’s suit coat. Elizabeth pulled up her skirt and put the extra sets of identity papers inside the front of the bloomers she was wearing. They could now leave the boarding house without concern that the landlady might rifle through their belongings, but knowing that they had perhaps assumed a greater risk if they were stopped and searched on the street.
They found a food vendor in the open-air market where they had asked directions, and bought bread, sausage and cheese. As they sat eating on a nearby stone bench, Colling asked if she had an address where her uncle could be found.
“Yes. It’s not really a residence,” she said, “It’s a school where he teaches.”
“Do you have any idea where it is from here?” Colling asked.
“I think so. It’s quite a walk, but it’s early yet. A little village called Zapieskowa, south of the main part of town.”
“Do you think those shoes of yours will hold up with all this hiking?”
“They’re fine,” she said, looking down at her feet.
Zapieskowa was, by Colling’s estimate, five or six miles from where they had started, since it was well over an hour later when Elizabeth announced that she thought they had reached the place. There were no road signs of any kind, and they had had to stop and ask directions several times. They were not alone on the road. A fair number of travelers were also walking. Farmers with their horse-drawn carts, women with large bundles on their backs, couples like themselves, carrying suitcases, some with small children tagging along, all were bound for their own destinations. Bands of armed men wearing the same nondescript mixture of uniforms that they had seen on the train when they crossed the Polish border seemed to have stationed themselves at key crossroads and intersections. Those walking by were randomly stopped for no apparent logical reason. Colling and Elizabeth were asked for their identification on two occasions. The demeanor displayed towards the couple was less amicable now that they no longer wore American uniforms and their papers showed them to be Polish. While they were not searched, there was a demand each time to see their passports, and each time, Colling also handed over 100 zlotys in payment of what the men who described themselves as the militia called an “impost,” which seemed to be the only requirement to their being allowed to pass, because examination of their papers was perfunctory in both cases.
The village consisted of a number of whitewashed peasant cottages lining an unpaved dusty street. Halfway down the street, however, stood a two-story building of more substantial construction, which Colling correctly guessed was the school for which they were searching. Fortunately, there was a small park across the street from the front of the school. Colling and Elizabeth sat waiting on the single bench that was available. Few people passed by, and there was no motor traffic. They sat side by side, saying little, waiting. Colling was growing restless, and was about to suggest they leave and return later when the faint sound of a bell ringing came from the direction of the school. A few minutes later, a crowd of adolescents came down its steps and scattered in different directions. A woman came to the doorway and shouted a reminder that the students had only an hour for lunch, and must return by one o’clock.
Colling pulled his Bulova wristwatch from his pocket to see that it was noon. He had decided not to put it in the canvas bag he had sent to Prague. While his possession of the American timepiece could prove to be a problem, he kept it off his wrist and in his trouser pocket, as much to keep it from being confiscated by a militiaman as to conceal it. If questioned, he intended to say he had purchased it from a downed British flyer. If necessary, however, he would just throw it away.
Suddenly, Elizabeth pulled at his sleeve and said, “Let’s go.”
The hallway of the school smelt musty, and after the bright sunshine they had left outside, it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to its darkness. Elizabeth led the way to the stairs to the second floor. As they stepped into the upper hallway, voices could be heard coming from one end of the building. They walked softly towards the sound and found a small group that they surmised was the faculty sitting in a room around a table. Elizabeth surveyed the people in the room, then stepping forward, she cried out, “Uncle Karol!” to a white-haired man seated with the rest. The old man peered intently through his spectacles at the woman who had so suddenly interrupted his lunch, then stood and crossed the room, taking Elizabeth in his arms.
“Elzbieta. How have you come here?” he asked.
“Uncle Karol, it has been so long. My husband, Jan, and I have come from Warsaw to see you,” she replied, pulling Colling forward to shake hands.
Karol had to introduce each of his colleagues to the couple, hesitating over the unfamiliar name Woznica. When the greetings and shaking of hands was completed, Elizabeth asked the old man if they could speak privately.
She led Karol and Colling to the far end of the hallway where they could not be overheard.
“Uncle Karol, it is so wonderful to see you,” she said. “I have come to get you to the United States.”
“I had been told you were coming. But how is this possible?”
“Connections have been made. Everything is arranged, but we must move quickly.”
“I cannot do that, little one. If I were to leave so suddenly, suspicions would be aroused, and frankly, three of those people that you just met are Communists. If they learn the reason for your coming, they will notify the authorities immediately. And besides this, I have to notify Jan and Tomasz.”
Colling now understood why Elizabeth had had Tomek prepare two extra sets of papers. He did not understand, however, why she had not told him about these two men.
“Are they nearby?” asked Elizabeth.
“Yes. They have been working on farms near here, waiting for you to come.”
“Wives and children?”
“As you know, my wife died two years ago. I do not know where my sons are. Jan’s wife and child disappeared during the evacuation from Oldenberg. Tomasz’s wife and children are somewhere, but he will not say. He says they are safe.”
“So there will be only the three of you?” inquired Elizabeth.
“Yes. Tomasz thinks perhaps he can get his wife and children out after he is able to get to the United States.”
Colling stood silently listening to this exchange. Aside from the fact that the number of individuals they were expected to help escape to the West had tripled, the reference to Oldenberg was puzzling. Oldenberg was in Germany, which meant that Karol and his friends must have been there within the past few months, perhaps earlier. If so, that meant that they had been there when the Nazis were still running things. Maybe they were collaborators. If so, it was understandable why Elizabeth would want to get them out of Poland. But then, by aiding them, she could find herself in deep trouble…and himself as well. He tried to think where he had heard Oldenberg mentioned. He knew there was something about the place that he had read, or someone had told him about, but he could not recall what it was.
He thought about the possibility that he could be held equally accountable for Elizabeth’s activities, if she were working to shield potential war criminals, and then he also recalled that his furlough was close to expiring, and if he weren’t back in Grabensheim within the week, he would be facing AWOL charges as well as whatever else might be in store for him if he and Elizabeth were found to be assisting wanted fugitives.
Colling suddenly realized that Elizabeth was speaking to him.
“Jan, we must leave Uncle Karol to finish his afternoon classes,” she was saying, pulling at his arm.
He mumbled a goodbye to Karol and followed Elizabeth from the school. Once out of earshot, she told him that they were to meet with Karol and the two other men at Karol’s house after dark. Colling was not enthused with the prospect of the long walk back into Kracow, but realized that it would be necessary to gather their belongings, and that to do otherwise might arouse unwanted interest on the part of their landlady and others.
He need not have worried about Madame Macziewskie’s curiosity; the old lady was waiting for them when they arrived hot and dusty at the front stoop of her house. With a hint of sarcasm in her voice, she wanted to know if Mr. Woznica or his wife had been able to find work. On an impulse, Colling told her that they had. He said that they had both been offered work on a farm to the east of the city, about ten kilometers in the country. The farmer had a room above his barn for them, and while they would not receive much in the way of wages, they would eat with the owner’s family and the other hands. He and Mrs. Woznica would be leaving as soon as they could, since it was a long walk back to their new quarters. He countered the frown growing on her face by offering her 50 additional zlotys by way of compensation for their leaving on such short notice.
After they trudged up the stairs to their room, Elizabeth dropped onto the narrow bed and said in a low voice, “Boy, you can make up a story on the spot!”
“At least I came up with an excuse for our leaving so quickly.”
“That you did. Have you always been able to make up tales like that with a straight face?”
“I’ve gotten better at it lately,” said Colling wryly, as he began packing his suitcase. Elizabeth eyed him, and without saying anything, pulled her own case from the corner and opened it on the bed.
They waited until it was nearly dark before retracing their steps to Zapieskowa. The bands of armed militia were not to be seen, and when they passed through one small hamlet, the loud sounds coming from a tavern indicated that they were probably spending the day’s impost collections. Elizabeth skirted the main street through Zapieskowa and led Colling to a cottage set back from the road among a stand of trees on the southern edge of the town.
Karol opened the door to Elizabeth’s knock and took them through a narrow hallway into the kitchen. Two men were sitting at the round wooden table in the center of the room. They looked up and watched Colling and Elizabeth as they entered. An open bottle of clear liquid that Colling surmised was vodka stood in the center of the table. Karol introduced the men as Jan and Tomasz, without mentioning their last names. Jan was the younger of the two, dark-haired and with a thin face that Colling guessed was the result of either illness or prolonged anxiety, or both. Tomasz was middle-aged and, like Karol, wore glasses. He looked fit and better fed than Jan, but it seemed to Colling that he shared with the younger man the same air of nervous anxiety.
Karol invited Elizabeth and Colling to join them at the table. Jan poured some of the vodka into a glass for each of them. Beginning immediately with the reason for their meeting, Elizabeth explained that she had identity papers and travel authorizations for Vienna, and that the following day, they would all leave by train for Czechoslovakia, then across into Austria. The three men seemed pleased at the prospect, and were in the middle of discussing the various steps that each of them would have to take to prepare to depart Poland, when Colling interjected, “I do not think this is such a good idea, Elzbieta.”
She turned to him, her eyes narrowing, “It’s all worked out, Jim,” she said in English.
He responded in the same language, “It’s a bad idea, Liz. Let me tell you why. We were watched from the minute we arrived in Warsaw. Someone knew we were coming. And I bet they’re looking for us right now. That little red herring you dropped about Poznan won’t fool them for long.”
She tried to interrupt, and he held up his hand to silence her and continued, “If we try getting on a train to Vienna, they’ll be on us before you can say ‘Jack Robinson.’ The only reason we got out of Warsaw when we did was because we didn’t follow the pre-arranged plan. Our only chance now is to improvise.”
Elizabeth looked steadily at him for what seemed a long time. The three Poles, obviously not fully understanding what was being said, watched them expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
“My orders were to bring them to Vienna. There are people waiting there for us. If we don’t arrive, they’ll wonder what happened. They’ll probably imagine the worst…that we’ve been captured by the NKVD,” said Elizabeth.
“And what will they do if they think that?” asked Colling.
“There isn’t anything that they can do. They might make some inquiries. Maybe raise a stink with the Polish Red Cross. But I don’t think they would really do anything.”
“They’d write us off, right?”
“Probably,” she replied with an air of resignation.
“Then so what if we find another way out?” asked Colling.
“And what might that way be, pray tell?”
“I’m not exactly sure. I have to think about it for awhile. But I know that trying to get on that train to Vienna will be the end for certain.”
Reverting to Polish, Elizabeth spoke to their companions, “My husband is concerned about taking the railway across Czechoslovakia to Austria. He does not believe it to be safe. He will have another plan to offer after he has had time to devise one.”
The Poles all began expressing their alarm and dismay simultaneously, until Colling waved his hands and asked them to listen to him.
“My wife has spoken the truth when she says I have no plan at this moment, but I will have one soon. You must realize that the Russians are looking for us.”
An alarmed expression spread across the faces of all three men, and Colling was certain that they were close to panic.
He continued, “We are safe for now, but we must not do what was originally planned. I believe someone has betrayed us, actually betrayed us before Elzbieta and I ever arrived in Poland.”
Tomasz interjected, “You are Americans. If the NKVD arrests us, you will be expelled, and we are the ones who will be imprisoned, or worse.”
Jan nodded his agreement, but then Karol spoke, “They are more likely to be shot than ourselves, Tomasz. We at least have some value to the Russians.” Gesturing at Colling and Elizabeth, he said, “These two will just disappear.”
Karol’s comment caused the hair on the back of Colling’s neck to rise. His concern about being punished for being AWOL was inconsequential in comparison with what he had just heard, but knowing that Karol and his friends needed reassurance, he forced himself to calmly ask, “Is it possible that all of us can remain a few days in your house, Uncle Karol?”
“Of course. But I am not sure what Jan and Tomasz must yet do. If they do not return to the farms where they have been working, there will be questions.”
Nodding towards the two men, Colling said, “Let Jan and Tomasz go about their business as usual. You, Uncle Karol, will teach your classes tomorrow. It will be hardest for you, Uncle Karol, to find an excuse for leaving your position. We must find one so that your fellow teachers and the headmaster will have no suspicions. In the meantime, Elzbieta and I will give thought to how this must be done.”
After Jan and Tomasz agreed that they would be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, the two men slipped out the door and into the night. Karol showed Colling and Elizabeth to their quarters in a bedroom on the second floor of the house. He explained that the school provided his housing, and that he normally shared the place with a married couple and two other teachers. The other four, however, had been called to Warsaw for a “political” purpose, as Karol described it, with a dour expression on his face. They were not expected to return anytime soon.
Their bedroom was comfortable and clean. Karol explained that the tiled laundry room on the first floor actually was equipped with a bathtub and a sink with a hand pump for drawing water. By using a bucket, it was possible to fill the small coal-fired water heater that was mounted on the wall next to the tub and have a hot bath. Elizabeth took advantage of this unexpected luxury first, and Colling followed her. The water had grown tepid, and he remained in the tub only long enough to scrub himself. As he washed the stubble on his face, he thought about how good a shave would feel. His American shaving kit had been left behind in Warsaw, and he had not asked to borrow a razor from Karol. Sitting in the rapidly-cooling water, he resigned himself to the fact that he would have to allow his beard to continue to grow, admitting to himself that unshaven, he would blend into the mass of refugees travelling across Poland.
When he slipped into bed beside Elizabeth, he intended to ask her the full names of Karol and the other Poles, but as if anticipating his thoughts, she said, “Jim, I think it’s best if you just know these men by their first names, in case you’re questioned.” Before he could say anything, she embraced him and placed her lips on his. They made love using the last of the prophylactics he had brought with him.
The sound of Karol moving about the house awoke them the next morning, and they joined him for breakfast of eggs and sausage. There was tea instead of coffee, but otherwise the meal was good. When Colling mentioned that food seemed to be more plentiful in Poland than in Germany, Karol boasted that the soil of Poland was the most fertile, and Polish farmers were the most industrious, in all of Europe, and besides, they had had a few more months of peace than the Germans.
As they ate, Karol indicated that he had been thinking about how he might explain the need to ask for permission to be absent from his post. He had decided that if Elizabeth would write a letter, he would explain that his mother in Lublin had become very ill and was on her deathbed, and he would ask for a few days’ leave to be by her side. Before he left for the school, he dictated the letter for Elizabeth to write. Colling was surprised to see the ease with which she wrote the Polish cursive. Karol held the letter up and read it, and after only a few corrections and suggestions, he folded it into a square and had Elizabeth write his name on it. He then used a small circle of gummed paper to seal the letter, then tore it open. After folding and unfolding it several times, he tucked it into his coat pocket, picked up his battered briefcase, and pulling on a battered fedora, headed off to the school.
Colling had asked Karol whether he had a map of Poland, and had been told that there was one in the drawer of the desk in what was the parlor of the house. As soon as Karol had departed, Colling found it and spread it on the kitchen table. He traced the routes towards the Czech border; towards Germany; the eastern border with the Soviet Union, and even southeast to Romania. Elizabeth finished washing dishes and came to stand beside him.
“The shortest route is still across Czechoslovakia to Vienna,” she said.
“I know, but I have a feeling that that’s not the way to go. I think the Russians will be waiting for us anywhere we try to cross into Czechoslovakia, even if we’re on foot.”
Colling paused and looked up at Elizabeth, “And by the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. What did Karol mean last night when he said that they were of value to the Russians?”
“I really don’t know what he meant,” replied Elizabeth.
“Were they collaborators with the Nazis? Do the Russians want them as war criminals?”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t have anything to do with Nazis.”
“Then what were they doing in Oldenberg?” he challenged.
She let out a long sigh, then said, “All right. You might as well know.” Pausing, she continued, “They were transported to Germany as slave laborers. I spent most of my time at Camp 146 trying to find someone who had known them there. I finally found someone who did. That’s where I got the information about their location here. They were not collaborators, it that’s what you’re thinking. They were prisoners who managed to escape towards the end of the fighting.”
“And all three are your uncles?”
“Well, Uncle Karol is. Jan and Tomasz are related to him, so they’re cousins or something like that.”
“You told me we were coming to Poland to find your uncle. One person. Then back in Warsaw, you had Tomek make up documents for three men. I wondered why, but didn’t ask. Now it’s clear you came here to find all three. What was it? Didn’t you trust me?”
Elizabeth tried to sooth him, saying, “Jim, you know I trust you. It was just that I didn’t really know about Jan and Tomasz then. I only found out about them just before we left Germany.”
“And you decided not to mention it? That’s a little strange.”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
Colling shook his head. “Never mind. What’s done is done. Now we have to figure out how to get all five of us out of Poland without getting caught.”
“Vienna is still closer,” persisted Elizabeth.
“Yeah,” said Colling, as he turned his attention once again to the map. Elizabeth left his side and he heard her going up the stairs.
When she returned, he said, “I’ve been thinking about it. Like I said, heading for Vienna is out. They’ll expect us to run to the nearest western border. Also, Romania is out. Too many Russians, and the Romanians don’t like Poles at all. If we head directly south into Czechoslovakia, we have to cross the mountains, and even at this time of the year, I don’t think your three charges are in any shape to make it. Besides, we would have to dodge the Russians and the Czechs, since the Czechs don’t like Polish refugees either. I think we need to head north. If we can get to the Baltic, we might be able to catch a fishing boat across to Sweden.”
Elizabeth frowned, “That’s a long way to go by train.”
“Not by train. We walk.”
“But that will take weeks, Jim.”
“There are thousands of people wandering back and forth across Poland. The Russians will be watching every train station. They can’t watch every road. We’ll just blend in with the crowd. It isn’t important how long it takes, just so long as we get there.”
“How far is it?” she asked.
“Four or five hundred kilometers, I would guess. If we can make 30 kilometers a day, we should be at the Baltic in less than three weeks.”
“Won’t we stand out, five people just walking along?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. If we can get a farm cart, we can say we’re a family headed back to our home village. You know, refugees who were transported by the Germans.”
When Karol came home from work, Colling outlined his plan. Karol suggested that Jan or Tomasz might know where a horse and a wagon or cart might be purchased. He gave Colling directions to each of the farms where the two men worked.
The place where Tomasz was employed as a farmhand was closer to Zapieskowa, so Colling went there first. He found the Pole alone, shoveling manure in the barn. When Colling called out his name, he stopped his work and stepped forward to greet the American.
“Some work for a metallurgist with a university degree, heh?” said Tomasz.
Colling was not surprised at the comment. While his ability to discern nuances in the Polish language was not perfect, he had suspected from the syntax and vocabulary used by Karol’s associates that they were educated men.
“Once you become accustomed to the odor, you discover that shoveling dung is not so bad a way to keep fit,” said Colling, grinning. “I know. I have done that sort of work before.”
Tomasz laughed, then asked, “What brings you here?”
“I come seeking the purchase of a wagon or cart, together with a horse to pull the same.”
Tomasz thought a moment, then replied, “The boss of this place, Panowie Weizescie has been attempting to purchase a cart from his neighbor, but they cannot agree on a price.”
“Will such cart come with a horse, as well?”
“No. But Panowie Weizescie has two or three horses he will sell, if he finds the price to be acceptable. May I ask why you wish a cart?”
“Yes, you may. We will use it to carry our belongings when we leave this place.”
“Then we are to go on foot?”
“Yes. All will be explained before we depart.”
Tomasz gestured towards the stalls in the rear of the barn. “The horses are there.”
Horses were a mainstay on Colling’s uncles’ farms in Wisconsin, but the three that Tomasz showed him were not as large or as healthy-looking. His facial expression must have betrayed his thoughts, because Tomasz explained that the farm owner’s better horses were out being worked in the fields. These were ones that might be for sale.
Tomasz pointed him in the direction where the farmer might be found, and after a lengthy walk, Colling found a group of men and women plowing and sowing by hand. Cap in hand, he bowed slightly and asked to speak to Panowie Weizescie.
A bearded man, his clothes less threadbare than the others, stepped forward and identified himself as the Panowie.
“Your Honor, my name is Jan Woznica, and I have been told that you have a horse to sell,” said Colling.
“Yes, that is true,” replied Weizescie, sizing Colling up. “But I must have cash, Jan Woznica. I will not barter my horse for some chickens or a few bags of grain.”
“Understood, your honor. I have cash,” said Colling, pulling his roll of zloty banknotes from his pocket and holding it up for the farmer to see.
Shouting over his shoulder that the planting of the field should continue without him, Weizescie ordered Colling to follow him and began walking rapidly in the direction from which Colling had just come.
Tomasz was still shoveling when they walked into the barn. Weizescie grunted a response to Tomasz’s greeting and brushed past him. Colling followed close behind, ignoring Tomasz and acting as if he were not acquainted with him. The Panowie began extolling the virtues of a brown horse that looked to Colling to be on its last legs. Instead, Colling picked out a smaller gray mare that looked healthier and asked her price. Weizescie let out a barking laugh and said, “You are a judge of horses, Jan Woznica. This is the best of the lot.”
“And how much, your honor, are you asking?” said Colling.
“Twenty thousand zlotys. Not a groszie less.”
“That is very dear, your honor. If I were to offer fifty dollars, American, would you sell for that price?”
The Panowie Weizescie’s eyes narrowed. “How comes it to be that Jan Woznica has American dollars?”
Colling stared back confidently and said, “I have a brother in Chicago in the United States of America who has sent me some money.”
“Oh, yes,” said Weizescie, smiling slyly at Colling, “Well, then, I would say that I would sell this horse for perhaps one hundred dollars.”
Colling gave a snort of disdain and turned to walk away, saying, “Thank you for your time, Panowie Weizescie. I must look elsewhere.”
“Wait, wait, Jan Woznica. Not so fast. A man must bargain, is that not so? One does not always take the first offer.”
Colling stopped and replied, “I will pay you sixty dollars, Panowie Weizescie, for this gray horse, and not a cent more.”
Weizescie laughed. “Done, Jan Woznica.”
“And you will provide a bridle for that price, I assume, Panowi