Evening Star Newspaper, January 25, 1942, Page 80

FAREWELL IN POLAND by William L. Shirer DG Ce———— “The Noblest Act I Witnessed in the War’”’ — the fourth in a series of articles by famous authors and war correspondents ROBABLY not many of them are Pahve today. The Nazis would not give them enough food, and the two winters — especially the first, which was the coldest Europe had seen for a century — must have killed off a great many of them. “Died of ex- posure” would be the technical term for those who did not starve to death. For what most of them lacked was shelter after the Nazis drove them from their homes. In that blizzardy winter of 193940 in Poland you had to have a roof over your head and a fire in the stove once in a while to keep alive. But they were very brave while they lived. They were very brave, the Polish women of Gdynia, on the day I saw them — September 19, 1939, it was — while the battle raged on the ridge two miles north of the town. It is difficult to describe. It was a peculiar battle. It was one of the few you really saw in this war. In a way, that was the ugly part about it. Nat for us, but for the women of Gdynia. They saw it too, saw their own men- folk fighting it, their hard Slavic faces frozen in bitter fascination as they watched. You have to grasp the geog- raphy of Gdynia and environs. You have to see the ridge just north of the port which runs for seven miles inland from the sea, and which can be seen from any place in the streets of the town. Hopeless Stand You have to remember that Gdynia itself already was in German hands and that on this chilly September day the remnants of the Polish Army of the North (reinforced by the men of Gdynia who had not already been called up) were making a last stand on the heights against an overwhelming force of the German army. Their posi- tion was hopeless. Their backs were against the sea. They had no artillery, no tanks, no planes. But all day long they fought on, with rifles and ma- chine guns. And down in the town their women, with whom they had seen Gdynia grow from a tiny fishing village to the leading port on the Baltic, a port of hope for Poland, watched them. The women did not cheer as, say. American college women do at a foot- ball game. Neither did they whine or weep. All day long they stood in the streets as if their feet had been glued to the pavement, their heads up- stretched, their eyes concentrated on the heights. They would disdain to look at you when you passed them. They were bitter, but they were also proud. As they gazed at the smoke the German bombs and shells made, did they hope for the sight of the white flag that would mean that some at least of their men would survive, liv- ing still? If so, they made no sign to show it. Revenge Was Only Hope P ROBABLY in the brief period of the war, which had come so suddenly three weeks before, they had become too numbed by what had happened to hope for anything beyond the sight of dead Germans. For the killing that they saw going on up on the ridge, the slaughtering of their men, was only part of what was happening. A few days before, the Germans had swept into Gdynia and had evicted these women from their homes, the modern, American-like homes which had been built in Gdynia — almost the only ones like them in the whole impoverished country. They had been ordered to leave the furniture just as it was, including the radio and bed- sheets and silver, so that the new Ger- man masters who were being brought into the town should not be incon- venienced. From their belongings of a lifetime they could take 22 pounds — in one small suitcase. And down at the freight yards, these women knew, the Ger- mans were assembling the boxcars that, as soon as the railroad had been repaired, would take them to the wasteland of Eastern Poland. Frost was in the air, and it would be a cold ride, they knew, and without their men, and where would the food come from, and the shelter? And with winter almost on them. I passed them for the last time that afternoon. They stood in the streets, still, their faces uplifted, proud, defiant, bitter. I'll wager they were that way to the end, full of a noble dignity until the last hunger that Hitler forced on them came, and the killing cold. The End S THING SO DELIaons S ANy BRINES CENG 6090 FOR Yo" YOU: M-m-m! That was swell! You know, it never * “regular” is ALL-BRAN’S main purpose in life. occurred to me to combine crisp, nutty ALL-BRAN with California prunes. It’s luscious! Thanks for suggesting it. WE: Do youmind if we also mention that KELLOGG'S ALL-BRAN is awfully good for people? Helps so many to keep “regular,” by supplying more “bulk” in their diets. YOU: Sounds mighty fine! Do go on. WE: Look! Many folks who suffer from constipa- tion have the common kind that’s due to lack of “bulk” in the diet. Purgatives can’t give anything but temporary relief. 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