Brother Janek - with whom we were akin to 2 twins - met in Wisla, walking a limp-bow on a makeshift pontoon bridge (old, iron, shattered by raids, lay in the river). He was on duty! I didn't want to believe my eyes! He went to check us in to his defender commander, who saw us from afar covering the crossing.
- Citizen Commander! He's my brother! He's coming back from camp!
- This 1 said hello to me. - Go, Janek, walk him out! I can see he's barely walking, but, remember, come back! At home you'll talk enough!
I got frightened erstwhile I saw my old beautiful Grudziądz... turned into a pestilence and rubble! *)
That beautiful spring day, I was yet given a look at my mother's faithful eyes... The face is most dear, dirty, very old in war years... parent was born on October 30, 1880, and was then sixty - 5 years old. At the minute of our meeting, she lit up with angelic joy.
- I'm sorry. You're back! The Virgin Mary has allowed me to await your return!
- Yes, Mom...
- I'm sorry. Do you know you have grey hair on your temples and chin?
- I know, Mom. The most beautiful years have passed. I've had quite a few wellness taken from me by the Nazis... but most importantly, I'm watching you, Mom, safe and sound!
- I'm sorry. But why are you talking about bullets?!
In the winter of the Way of Death, as under SS escort, we fled the camp from the Red Army, a number of people died... And then something happened to my right leg. I couldn't decision it without pain... If it wasn't for the sacrifice of an elder of my colleague, the holy memory of Peter Pietkiewicz, I would have stayed besides somewhere in the field between Stutthof and the Carthus...
That's how we talk, laughter and cry, exchange messages about ourselves and our loved ones...
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*) The demolition of an old war almost a 1000 years old Grudziądz was estimated to be 60% urban substance. For six full weeks - from January to March 6, 1945 - artillery and Red Army bombers stormed the heavy defended city by the Germans.
