War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 154

Chapter 9

D

espite the unfriendly reception by his former friend Jozef, now called Marek, Peter didn’t doubt for a single moment that he’d made the correct decision coming to Warsaw. Early in the morning, they visited the Home Army headquarters in the basement of a building in the Old Town.

About a dozen men in their forties filled the room, all veterans of the Polish Army who’d fought in 1939, judging by the uniforms they wore.

“Who’s this?” A skinny man with a distinctive mustache and the insignia of a general asked Marek.

Marek introduced Peter. “He’s Antek. Used to be in the Polish Army but fled to England after the invasion.” The disapproval of Peter’s actions was prominent in his voice.

“General Bór. I’m the commander of the Home Army,” the man said and extended his hand.

“It’s pleasure to meet you, General Bór,” Peter said, careful to use the codename of the man he’d recognized as Count Tadeusz Komorowski, a veteran from the Austro-Hungarian Army in the previous war.

“What’s your rank?” a man asked, identifying himself as Colonel Mituk, Bór’s right hand.

“

Podporucznik

in the Polish Army. After the invasion I joined the British Army and got later promoted from Second-Lieutenant to Captain.”

“What’s your battle experience?” Mituk asked, and Peter responded with detailed explanations about the short fighting during the invasion and his subsequent experiences with the BEF in France.

“Not bad, since we’re in dire need of experienced men,” another officer said.

Marek cast Peter a dark stare and murmured, “He’s mostly experienced in running from danger.” If Mituk heard the snide remark, he didn’t reveal it, and instead proceeded to ask Peter questions about his whereabouts after the evacuation from Dunkirk.

“Did you bring a gun?” someone asked.

“A Mauser P08,” Peter answered. Apparently, his contact in Berlin had been right and the Home Army was desperate for weapons.

“A P08? That’s a fucking pistol! We’re not going to win a war with a pistol,” Marek said.

Mituk growled, “We have less than three thousand weapons to equip thirty thousand men. I’d take a P08 over nothing every day.”

Marek drew his eyebrows together but gave a nod. Mituk turned to face Peter again saying, “Since you come recommended by two of ours and have battle experience, I’m awarding you the rank of Captain and assigning you to command the

Zoska

battalion. Radoslaw will show you.” A murmur passed through the room, but nobody dared to oppose him, not even Marek.

“Come with me.” A haggard man with the insignia of a Colonel, who must be Radoslaw, stepped forward. Peter later found out that Radoslaw was one of the main commanders in the uprising and his battalion was one of the best armed and best trained insurrectionist units.

“Good to have you on board. We need every able-bodied man to drive the Germans out,” Radoslaw said. Since it wasn’t safe to walk the street in uniform, he asked Peter to wait for him while he changed into civilian clothes.

Forty-five minutes later Peter stood in another basement, inspecting his

troops

—although they didn’t deserve that name. Half of the

men

were below age, members of the Grey Ranks, the underground paramilitary Polish Scouting Association, and much to Peter’s dismay, there were also a few women, or actually girls, among his troops.

“Have you ever had a weapon in your hands?” he asked them.

One fresh-faced boy with rosy cheeks raised his hand and explained, “We’ve practiced pulling apart, cleaning and putting back together several Russian, English and German weapons. We could do it wearing blindfolds.”

“And we have learned everything about lobbing grenades and which way to throw them. Never upstairs,” another equally young boy said.

“I see.” Peter cast a desperate glance toward Radoslaw, who shrugged.

“How many of you have a gun?”

Nobody raised a hand.

“Any weapon?”

“I have my grandfather’s hunting rifle,” a slightly older boy admitted. “But the lever gets stuck most of the time.”

“What about uniforms? Helmets? Boots?”

This time, a few hands rose. About a dozen of the men were veterans of the Polish Army and had kept their uniforms hidden throughout the occupation, while some of the younger boys had inherited pieces from fathers or older brothers.

“May I say something, sir?” a man with short black hair said.

“You may.”

“We’re planning to raid a shoe factory tomorrow morning, which should take care of the boots.”

Peter forced himself to give a nod of approval. “Well, then. Await your orders.”

On the way back to Home Army headquarters he didn’t speak a word. Never in his life had he seen more badly trained and badly equipped troops. If this was the general state of the insurgents, they didn’t have much hope of winning the uprising.

“What about the lack of weaponry?” he finally asked Radoslaw when they reached the headquarters.

“Very unfortunate. Most of the weaponry has been shipped to Eastern Poland in support of Operation Tempest. But we’re confident we can capture enough German arms in the first day to equip three soldiers each to share one weapon.” Peter shook his head, looking in Radoslaw’s face for signs he was joking, but the other man was dead serious.

Later that same day, Peter met up with Colonel Mituk again.

“Have you inspected your battalion?” Mituk asked.

“Yes…but there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. I’m concerned...”

“About?”

“Everything…” Peter said, doubt filling his voice. “They are untrained in regimented fighting, lack the basic weaponry needed to be effective, and I’m not sure how we can be expected to take on the Germans in this crippled state.”

Mituk nodded his head and took a deep breath, before explaining, “I know all of this, believe me. But we simply cannot wait for better times. We have a very short window of time to secure Poland for ourselves, and that window will open soon. Once we start the surprise attack on the Germans, the fighting won’t take long. Several days, a week at most.”

“I don’t see how that is possible. We’re severely outgunned. Even with the element of surprise on our side…”

“We are not acting from a position of strength – nobody knows this better than I do – but we’re in contact with London and Radio Moscow. In fact, we picked up a radio broadcast just today asking us to fight the Germans. The Red Army is approaching Warsaw with unprecedented speed, making good time day after day. As soon as we make our first strike to rid our beloved country of the Hitlerite vermin, they will come to our aid. Together we will win this battle.”

A few other officers, including Marek, joined the discussion. “We should attack at the same time the Red Army does to maximize our advantage,” someone said.

“No, they’ll just claim the victory for themselves and take Warsaw out of our hands, the same way they’ve done with other towns.”

“But we lose our advantage if we act too soon. We don’t have the equipment necessary to mount a full-scale attack,” Peter objected.

“So, you’re saying we should hide?” Marek asked derisively. “You’re very good at that, aren’t you?”

Peter’s anger at his former friend exploded, quick and fierce. “What are you implying?” He clenched his fists, tired of the innuendoes Marek constantly threw his way.

But before the situation could spiral out of control, an authoritative voice said, “The two of you need to stop this nonsense. Remember who the real enemy is and that you are on the same side. If we are to be successful, we must all work together.”

Peter held Marek’s gaze until the other man shook his head in disgust and walked away. When he turned to look at the rest of the group, he felt like he should say something to defend himself. He opened his mouth to do so, but one of the colonels stopped him with a gesture of his hand.

“Let the past go. We all made our choices. Neither way was better or worse. Marek is hurting, but he’ll come around in time. As our commander said, we need every able-bodied fighter we can get. For Poland!”

“For Poland,” Peter agreed, heeding the truth of the colonel’s sage words. Now wasn’t the time for petty quarrels. They had plenty of time for that after driving the Nazis out.