Destination England -
Going Home
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6. Going Home
From now on I was alone and would have to travel 180 miles to reach my
home town. On my way I passed by many prisoner of war camps, but
kept at a safe distance to avoid becoming one of their inmates.
The last 30 miles I went by train, arriving at my home station,
Gniezno, the city which had been the first capital of Poland1000 years
ago.
I had visited this train station hundreds of times before, when I used
to attend school in Poznan, and now the ticket collector, who knew
me, was refusing to let me through because I couldn't produce the
travel
pass required. This was a big shock to me! I had travelled
500miles across Poland, through Russian and German Front Lines, and now
at the end of my journey I encountered this! He warned me that if he
let me go through, there was a German military patrol standing outside
the station who were checking the passes. I told him to leave
that problem to me and so he eventually allowed me through. As
soon as I left the station, the military patrol confronted me and
requested to see my pass. Since it was evening time (8 pm), I
said to them in German "Good evening, " and then "This is my town and I
am coming home". I then produced my birth certificate which was
also in German. After examining my papers and exchanging few
words, laughing they let me go on my way. A few minutes later,
with my heart beating at full speed, on 29th October 1939, I arrived
home.
I was rather disappointed because my father wasn't there, only my
stepmother and my two stepsisters. My father had arrived home a
few days before me, travelling from the Russian border, about 500 miles
away, where he was engaged as military train driver. When his
train was destroyed by bombs, he wasn't keen to be taken into Russian
hands so he went over to the German side. After the Germans had
examined his military book which he carried with him, in which the Iron
Cross was annotated, he was given a pass to get home by rail or by any
other available transport. His journey had been parallel to mine,
but about 150 miles away. On his way home he stopped by my last
aerodrome at Terespol and went to look at the freshly made graves, but
not finding one with my name on it, with little hope of me being still
alive continued his journey. After returning home he went into
his pre-war job of driving railway engines, but this time for the
Germans as he had done previously in 1918.
When my father returned from work the next morning, he was naturally
pleased to see me as a son, but he envisaged that there would be
problems ahead which were not of his making. If I stayed at home,
one problem would be that I would have to report to the
military. Since I had been born in Germany, I would be 'persuaded'
to join the German army, or else become interned as prisoner of
war. I kept going over in my mind that something even worse could
happen and, as a consequence, bring disaster on my family. As a
result I wasn't too keen to stay at home very long because any time the
Gestapo could walk in. If they found me there and I had not
reported anywhere,I would be arrested on the spot.
Another thing was worrying me too and that was my neighbour who lived
downstairs and ran a grocery shop. He was of German nationality
and very often I had engaged in political discussions with him, where I
had never had a kind word for Hitler. My stepsisters informed me
that as soon as the Germans had come to my town, this man had been
recalled to Berlin where he was given an important position while his
wife remained working in their shop.
I decided I should start making plans for my forthcoming journey.
I had no civilian clothes so my father took me to see his friend who
promised to make me a jacket by the next day but there was no time or
material to make trousers! However, while we were walking to the
tailor, my father became very curious as to why every German soldier or
airman who passed by was staring at us. When my father looked at
me, he noticed that I was wearing a military belt on my air force
overcoat. Immediately he pushed me into the nearest doorway and
told me to take it off. I did that without a murmur but it might
have been a different case if I had been ordered by somebody else!
Living in the same building as my family, one story below, I had
befriended a man who was about 10 years my senior. Until the
Germans arrived, he was a manager in large clothing store which was
owned by a Jew. For this reason he was arrested by the Gestapo
but, since he spoke fluent German, he outwitted them and was
released. Being unsure about his future under the occupation, he
decided to join me on my journey.
It was 11th November, the day celebrated by Poles every year as
Independence Day. German High Command had therefore increased
their patrols in case of any disturbances, and so we had to postpone
our start for two days.
On Sunday at midnight, my father had to go to work, and since my friend
and I were leaving the next day, as a last farewell and for the first
and the last time in my life, my father and I had a 'drink'
together. It was last time we ever saw each other.
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© Nick Bailey & Krys Bailey (nee Stendera) & Jozef Stendera
2013-2020