Disappointed in matters of love, Jozef’s thoughts turned homeward once again. So, in truth, he was on the Zambian border for the hell of it, fighting for the side he believed would best keep things just as he wanted; to roam free in the African bush. Free of the fashionable pretence and hastle he had witnessed in London.
Marisha
She arrived at the Embassy promptly at nine and was met in the hallway by the First Secretary. Greetings were exchanged but before she could draw the next breath she was shepherded into a large office occupied by the Ambassador.
He rose from his desk and walked slowly, hand extended, to meet her in the middle of the room.
“Aah. Our new Secretary. Charmed to meet you again. Welcome to London.”
“Greetings from Warsaw, Comrade Minister. It is my privilege to be in your service once more.
With that they sat down, all three, around a dark heavy highly polished coffee table on which three glasses of steaming lemon tea had already been set out.
The new Secretary’s first day in post at the Embassy in London, the fourteenth of March, 1969, coincided with the banning, of the theatrical performance and book called ‘Soldiers’; a play by the German author Rolf Hochuth.
Warsaw was alerted the night before and she was sent for immediately. As the rising star on the staff of Vistula Poland’s leading journal of foreign affairs, Marisha’s brief was simple: “turn it in our favour.’
The German playwright, made two assertions. Firstly that Churchill had ordered the assassination of General Wladyslaw Sikorski, leader of the ’London’ Poles and said that he had the evidence locked up in a Swiss bank vault which would reveal its contents in fifty years time. Secondly that the ‘Katastrophe’, the Dresden holocaust, had been too long ignored in the kakography of war. A debate about its tactical value and strategic morality was long overdue; Hitler and his generals were no angels; no more so were Churchill and his military advisers.
What, asked Hochuth, was Churchill's role in the operation code named Gommorrah? This was a new campaign which saw Bomber Command evolve, during 1942-43, the practice of area bombing over Germany. On 30-31 May 1942 Bomber Command tried out its first Thousand Bomber Raid over Cologne. To quote from the report of the Chief of Police of Cologne: ‘High Explosive bombs and incendiaries were dropped for about one and a half hours ... From the outset, bombing was spread almost evenly over the entire city area ... the attack had no recognizable centre of main effort. Residential areas ... were primarily affected. The main losses included 13,000 workers flats. The casualty rate was 469 dead and 5,027 injured."
This was read as failure in London.
As a consequence of this experience the city of Hamburg was singled out for new tactics. Many more incendiary bombs than high explosive bombs were used. High density, working class, areas were targeted and the concentration of effort led, as required, to the destruction of Hamburg, by Fire Storm. Forty three thousand civilians (as many as R.A.F. Bomber Command personnel lost in the war) were killed. And in what the Germans call, Die Katstrophe, the bombing of Dresden on 13 February 1945, killed 135,000.
'Gomorrah' was a reprisal, in part, for the bombing, by the Luftwaffe of urban targets - most infamously Coventry where 380 died and the 13,339 killed during the Blitz on London, in September and October 1940.
*
Marisha was more interested in quashing the allegation that Churchill had ordered the murder of Sikorski.
The self-exiled prime minister of Poland was no stranger to Marisha. She had long completed a Masters thesis which was based on the General’s diary which had been given to her in Poland by his last surviving relative.
The old lady and Marisha shared the same apartment in Wroclaw formerly, Breslau, shared too by Janka, Basha and Marta; mother and her two daughters. All the women crammed into the two roomed space they called home were variously displaced persons.
Marisha and the old lady directly from the east and the threesome, from the west, rare returnees from Tanganyika via Britain.
It was they who had introduced Jozef to Marisha; rather they gave Marisha Jozef’s address for when next she was in London where she needed to be, in research of British archives relevant to her doctoral thesis on which she had embarked with the vigour of an ambitious careerist.
Her entire being was geared to the cause. Poland’s cause. The Party’s cause. It was the Party to which she owed everything. Her education. Her salary. Her permission to travel. To London. To the archives. That is what she lived for. The contents of official files. Researching the relationship between Poland and Great Britain, now so crucial with the renaissance of revisionism in Adenauer’s Germany and with the stirrings of yet another anti-Soviet revolt in Poland. She had to proceed with care as the political ground within which her career was rooted again felt uneven; the Party line again began to shift like a continental plate; East or West?
Attuned to the vibration of these potent shifts, she looked in the direction of the setting sun.
Marisha had finally written up much of her thesis on Anglo-Polish relations. It was a good basis for the task she had been given by her superiors in Warsaw: to move Poland closer to the West, especially to Britain where many were sympathetic to the Polish notion of a nuclear free Europe, as envisaged in the Rapacki Plan.
*
At her desk, Marisha read the typescript of her thesis and marked in pencil, passages which she would use in her report to the Ambassador:
‘On arrival in London in June 1940, Sikorski's wish was to consolidate his own personal triumph in retaining his position as Poland's political and military supremo. For him this was the light at the end of the tunnel through which he had journeyed since the evacuation from Dunkirk. It marked the end of a chapter in the history of the Polish government in exile. Much of what had been achieved after months of effort in France to establish the machinery of government was swept away. Yet much remained on which to build. Sikorski emerged in a particularly favourable light. His energy and clarity of mind at a time when others panicked was remarkable. That he never once considered any course of action other than to continue the fight against Germany was less so. No other possibility was conceivable. The logical conclusion of the policy which clearly emerged in France, a consistent commitment by the Polish government to pursue the war against Hitler, was nevertheless sought with extraordinary vigour. The involvement of a Polish force in Norway demonstrates this policy in practice. It also suggests real efforts to realize the government's long-standing ambition to gain the confidence of, and parity with, the British and French governments. The reaction of these governments to Polish demands for participation on the Supreme War Council shows how difficult this had been to achieve. The reasons are clear. The Polish government was weak, totally dependent on the help of its allies and sympathizers, and able to exert little pressure. Yet the need for recognition as an ally of equal rank was very real to Sikorski. He insisted on involvement around the table and in the field, not only to establish his government's credibility in the eyes of the Allies but also for the sake of Polish support at home and abroad. Sikorski had come through a most trying period and survived serious attempts to oust him. He remained as head of government and chief of armed forces after his evacuation from France.
Poland had then replaced France as Britain's chief ally, while the Soviet Union continued its benevolent neutrality towards Germany.
Despite strains between the various factions in the Polish government and the wider emigration, Sikorski, firmly supported by the British, was able to override critics of his style and policies. It was not until the question of Soviet-Polish relations came to the fore with the entry of the USSR into the war in June 1941 that a crisis, more serious than that of June 1940, arose in the Government-in-Exile. Sikorski, again under fire for his policy and style of leadership, was at least confident of his standing with Churchill. The warmth of the relationship between the 2 prime ministers is evident at the beginning of the new year.
/> On 7 January 1941, Sikorski had written to seek Churchill's view of the suitability of that time for his proposed visit to Egypt and America. Seven days later he received the following reply:
‘I have given much thought to your letter. . . . If I am to consult my personal feeling and wishes, I must frankly say I hope very much that on reflection you will decide to postpone your tour. It is a great help to me to know that you, as the leader of the largest Allied force in this country and as Prime Minister of our first Ally in the war, are available to give help and guidance at a time when we may at any moment be faced with a heavy attack from the enemy and the Polish Army may be called . . . to fight at our side. This, my dear General, is my personal view, but of course, I should not wish to stand in your way if you feel that your duty lies elsewhere.’
Churchill's words pleased Sikorski, as indicated by his response: 'My dear Prime Minister, thank you very much for your letter of January 24th. I appreciate what you say and I am very glad to know that you feel the Polish Forces have an important role to play in the defence of this country.' Flattered to think his presence was required in Britain he asked Churchill whether he would help him send someone in his place if he did not go to Egypt. He explained that there were nearly 10,000 Polish troops in the Middle East.
Sikorski was particularly interested in the possible use of Polish troops from there against the Germans in the Balkans.
He asked Churchill to 'include Poland among the countries which they are prepared to assist with credits and military equipment needed for the new fighting units'. and ended 'I am convinced my dear Prime Minister, you will understand and sympathise with this point of view, and not refuse your help in all these vital matters for the future of my country'.
Churchill exerted pressure on the Foreign Office to send a favourable reply: 'All possible consideration should be given to this very faithful and courageous statesman. These Polish recruits in the New World are not only a necessary source of man-power for the Polish forces, but of great symbolic significance.'
This was the kind of recognition for which Sikorski was working.
But there was a quid pro quo.
The British government now pressed the Polish government to come to an agreement with Russia for the sake of its own relations with its new ally.
The shape of things to come was already discernable. July 1941 was a turning point in Anglo-Soviet relations as well as the beginning of a new chapter in the affairs of the Polish government. Its fate now depended increasingly on Soviet policy. The Polish question became one of the main subjects of a dispute which was to sour Great Power relations.
As noted at the Foreign Office: “The Poles are certainly in a bad mood and dislike no longer being our No 1 ally. The best hope seems to be General Sikorski, who so far as I am able to judge, is a bigger man than most Poles, and able to rise above domestic squabbles.”
Sikorski’s authority was soon to be fully tested.
At 9.15 pm on 13 April 1943, Berlin radio announced to the world the discovery of the bodies of about 10,000 Polish officers buried in mass graves in the Smolensk area. According to the broadcast, German troops were taken by locals to a place called Kosogory at the northern end of Katyn wood, an area occupied by the Germans since 14 July 1941. Here the Bolsheviks had perpetrated secretly mass executions.
Two days after this statement was broadcast the Soviet Information Bureau in London discussed it as 'fabrication by Goebbels' slanderers'. On the same day that the Soviet release was issued, the Polish cabinet met to discuss the allegation of the Soviet Embassy in London. The International Red Cross was also asked to investigate. At the time General Sikorski was in the Middle East visiting Polish troops and so on 16 April General Kukiel issued a detailed account of Polish-Soviet communications concerning the Polish officers missing since 17 September 1939. Kukiel's statement ended with the words:
‘We have become accustomed to the lies of German propaganda and we understand the purpose behind its latest revelations. In view however of the abundant and detailed German information concerning the discovery . . ., and the categorical statement that they (the missing Polish Officers) were murdered by Soviet authorities in the Spring of 1940, the necessity has arisen that the mass graves discovered should be investigated and the facts alleged verified.’
This move angered Stalin into interrupting relations with Sikorski's government. On 21 April 1943, in a telegram to Churchill, he described the behaviour of the Polish government towards the USSR as 'completely abnormal and contrary to the rules and standards governing relations between two allied States'. He was resentful that far from countering the 'infamous fascist slander against the USSR', the Sikorski government had not found it necessary 'even to address questions to the Soviet Government or to request information on the matter'. He interpreted the simultaneous start of 'the anti-Soviet campaign' in the German and Polish press as 'indubitable evidence of contact and collusion between Hitler and the Sikorski Government' a view he saw further supported by the close correspondence of line taken by the respective press campaigns. He concluded that these circumstances led the Soviet government to believe that the London government had 'severed its relations of alliance with the USSR' and 'for these reasons the Soviet Government has decided to interrupt relations with the Government'. Three days later Churchill replied that far from Sikorski being pro-German or in league with them he was in danger of being overthrown by Poles who considered that he had not stood up sufficiently against the Soviet government. 'If he should go we should only get somebody worse. I hope therefore that your decision to "interrupt" relations is read in the sense of a final warning.' Stalin refused to change his mind. Relations between the Polish Government-in-Exile and the Soviet Union were never resumed.
The government's isolation was intensified by the tragic death of General Sikorski on 4 July 1943. The aircraft bringing him back to London crashed on take-off in Gibraltar.”
*
Marisha italicised the words she felt the Ambassador would most appreciate in formulating a response to the Hochuth affair:
“Sikorski’s death has been the subject of much debate and, in the absence of strong evidence to the contrary, foul play will continue to be a possibility which is given consideration. The matter is of sufficient notoriety to call for some comment here on the charge that the British were responsible for Sikorski's death. Stalin for one seemed to believe it. Despite attempts to implicate Churchill in the affair the British prime minister's position is unassailable. On personal and political grounds he had a real interest in Sikorski's welfare. He admired Sikorski as much as he came to dislike his successors, none of whom perished by order of the prime minister. That is not to say that assassination as a possible solution to Polish problems was never considered in British policy-making circles. Kot, who was always regarded by the Foreign Office as much more troublesome than Sikorski, is referred to in a letter dated 30 July 1940 from Savery to Roberts in these terms: 'I think that all parties are now united in their desire to reduce K's [Kot's] powers. I hope they will succeed but I am afraid we shall never have any peace until we have him bumped off.'
Though no such reference is found regarding Sikorski, threats to his life were discussed at the Foreign Office. He certainly had enemies amongst his compatriots who would have wished to see him dead. In October 1942 a Foreign Office minute records a conversation between Tytus Filipowicz and Savery in which the Polish ex-ambassador to Washington spoke of the growing unpopularity of Sikorski amongst Polish émigrés and warned of a possible threat to his life. This view was discussed as being over-emotional.
Yet the man who had come to symbolize the spirit of the Polish nation during the war was suddenly lost. Sikorski's death was a disastrous blow to the London Poles. He had given substance to the Government-in-Exile, which some had regarded as an 'ephemeral fiction'. Within the international community he was an irreplaceable Polish asset. As regards his successor Stanislaw Mikolajczyk, Churchill 'showed little s
ympathy for his feelings or understanding of his lack of international experience. . . . He felt he owed nothing to Mikolajczyk. The words he had uttered to General Sikorski in 1940 did not seem to apply to his relationship with the General's successor.'
Sikorski displayed a sense of realism which was rare in Polish politics. His emergence as a Polish statesman of mark is significant in the history of the Polish government during the Second World War. The impression gained from the earlier part of this period is of a posturing figure whose sense of Poland's importance in the Allied cause was out of all proportion to her worth as an ally, though his demands to be treated as an equal partner in the struggle against Germany could be seen as justifiable attempts directed at maintaining Polish dignity. Throughout late 1939 and into 1941 Sikorski could have been seen as just another Pole with a grandiloquent turn of phrase, but this would not be a fair assessment. He was at his best when he talked in broad terms of major issues and in so long doing served the same purpose as Churchill did for Britain and de Gaulle for France, emerging as Poland's Man of Destiny. This went against the advice of both critics and admirers. Yet it is difficult to see how this equation between Sikorski and his country could have been avoided. In a most dark and tragic hour of his nation's history, he held tenaciously to his belief in the strength and rightness of the Polish cause and in the eventual deliverance of his country from the defeat and humiliation it had suffered at the hands of its two historical enemies. Sikorski's indestructible patriotism was inspiring. He also had the good sense to see that concrete evidence of the will to contribute to the allied cause needed to be provided, not only for prestige purposes vis-a-vis other partners in the alliance, but also for the sake of the morale of the Poles themselves. To this end he worked with persistent diligence and he was, above all, successful in his energetic pursuit of aid from his allies for the building-up of the Polish forces. In doing this he made a thorough nuisance of himself, particularly over the question of aid in recruiting an army in Canada. In short, in the period from the formation of the Polish government in France to Hitler's attack on Russia, one's general assessment of the Polish Government-in-Exile changes. The early scenes of comic opera change under Sikorski's direction to a serious representation of the Polish case. The true test of his statesmanship, however, came when the British government invited the Soviet Union on to the Allied side.