LITMIR.BIZ

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cooperation on Mikołajczyk’s ill-fated visit to Moscow, and ultimately on Stalin’s good will. To rely on a dictator who had repeatedly proved his animosity towards the AK was illogical, and a measure of the desperate situation the Home Army found itself in at the end of July 1944.

      At 9 o’clock on the morning of 31 August the regular AK meeting took place at Pańska Street, and Osmecki was called on to give a detailed account of the situation on the German–Soviet front. His conclusion was simple: ‘The [Soviet] attack on Warsaw will not start for four or five days, and therefore to begin the uprising now would be wrong.’ Osmecki left the meeting with the impression that everyone had been convinced by his report. Bór had clearly said: ‘Under these conditions the fight will not start on 1 or 2 August.’ The next meeting was scheduled for 5 o’clock the same afternoon, but Osmecki genuinely believed that Bór had decided to postpone the uprising until the situation was more clear.

      Later that day Osmecki left his flat on Napoleon Square, bound for the 5 o’clock meeting. The Germans had staged a round-up near Marszałkowska Street, and it took him half an hour to cover the few hundred metres to Pańska Street. ‘I had just received information that the German counter-attack would start shortly, but I was calm as I didn’t think any decision would be taken.’ He made his way into the building, fully expecting to report to the AK about developments along the front.

      To his surprise, Bór was in the hallway getting ready to leave. There was nobody else there, and Osmecki asked if anyone else had even come.

      ‘The meeting has ended,’ Bór said. And then, as if as an afterthought: ‘I gave the order to start the uprising.’

      Osmecki was shocked. When he asked why, Bór said simply: ‘Monter brought information that Soviet tanks made the breakthrough in the German bridgehead in Praga. He said if we don’t start immediately we will be late. Therefore I gave the order.’

      Osmecki later found out what had happened. The meeting had started earlier than planned, with only Bór, Pełczyński, Okulicki and Major Karasiówna in attendance. The atmosphere was relaxed, and they discussed Mikołajczyk’s visit to Moscow. Then Monter appeared. He had ‘information that Soviet Panzer units had entered the German bridgehead and that Radość, Miłosna, Okuniew, Wołomin and Radzymin are in Russian hands’. Monter insisted on the immediate launch of the uprising, otherwise ‘it might be too late’. Bór, who had rejected the idea only hours before, suddenly changed his mind. ‘After a short discussion I came to the conclusion that it was the right moment to begin the fight. The Russian attack could be expected from one hour to the next,’ he said. Jankowski was summoned, and Bór demanded that the operations begin in Warsaw immediately. This would ‘transform the German defeat in Praga into a complete rout, make reinforcement of the German troops fighting on the eastern bank of the Vistula impossible, and in this way would speed up Soviet encircling movements which had started to the east, north-east and north of Warsaw’. Jankowski asked a few questions, and then said, ‘Very well, begin.’ Bór turned to Monter. ‘Tomorrow at 1700 hours precisely you will start Operation “Burza” in Warsaw.’

      The problem was that Monter’s information had been wrong. The Soviets were not in Warsaw at all.

      Osmecki approached Bór in the hallway. ‘General, you have made a mistake,’ he said. ‘Monter’s information is imprecise. I have the latest dispatches from my people on the ground. There is no doubt that the Praga bridgehead has not been broken. Conversely, they confirm everything I said in the morning. The Germans are preparing a counter-attack.’

      In reality, the Germans had started the first counter-offensive of the summer, which stopped Bagration in its tracks. The Soviet offensive had finally been halted, at the very edge of Warsaw.

      Bór collapsed on a chair, wiping his forehead. ‘Are you absolutely sure that Monter’s information is incorrect?’ he asked.

      Osmecki told him that a few Russian tanks may have moved into Praga, but that the German bridgehead had not been broken.

      Bór asked what he should do. Osmecki suggested he send a courier to Monter immediately to revoke the order.

      ‘Do we have to revoke it again? Revoke the order?’ Bór asked.

      ‘Yes. You have chosen the exact wrong moment. You have to revoke the order.’ Bór looked at his watch.

      ‘At that moment Szostak came in. He looked at both of us, Bór in his hat and coat and me standing. When he heard what had happened he was furious that neither he nor Osmecki had been consulted. “This is madness,” he said. “We will let ourselves all be massacred. You have to immediately revoke that order.”’

      Bór said only, ‘Too late. We cannot do anything.’ He sat helplessly, exhausted, with a pitiful look on his bloodless face. ‘We cannot do anything more,’ he said for the third time, with what appeared a combination of relief and tiredness. Then he stood up and left.

      A few moments later Pluta-Czachowski arrived, and ran into Bór on the stairs. ‘He knew immediately, and looked at us with silent questions and fears. I said: “It’s done, we cannot do anything. Let’s do all we can to reduce the losses. From this moment on every moment counts.” I went to the door and Pluta said in a matter-of-fact voice: “Apropos – the German counter-attack has just begun.”’

      Most Poles who had been listening to the sounds of artillery approaching Warsaw believed that they meant certain and imminent Soviet victory over the Germans. But, for the first time since the launch of Bagration, the opposite was true. The Germans were fighting back. General Walter Model had just begun Army Group Centre’s only major counter-offensive of the summer of 1944. The Battle of Wołomin is virtually unknown in World War II history, but it was hugely significant, as it halted Bagration and ended the rout of the Germans in Byelorussia and Poland. It was the largest tank battle on Polish soil in the entire war, with 450 German Panther and Tiger tanks wading into over seven hundred Soviet T-34s. The Germans had air superiority, but still the region between Wołomin and Radzymin was caught in a seesaw of attacks and counter-thrusts; the villages in the area were reduced to rubble, and the Soviets lost over two hundred tanks. The battle also helped determine the fate of the Warsaw Uprising. The German counter-attack made it impossible for the Red Army to take Warsaw in the first days of August; later it would provide Stalin with an excuse not to help the beleaguered city when he could easily have done so. The battle was therefore a pivotal moment in the history of the Second World War.

      It is often said the AK leadership’s lack of understanding of Stalin was their biggest mistake, but equally important was their ignorance of the German position at this crucial moment. Bór could not conceive that the Nazis would be able to turn around and fight back. He did not understand that the Germans on the Eastern Front were not going to lay down their arms with the Soviets rolling towards Berlin. In fact surrender was not an option for the average German soldier, and even those who now doubted Hitler fervently believed that the Red Army had to be stopped at any cost. Many German soldiers secretly believed that they would soon be joining forces with the Western Allies to wage war against the Russians.⁴⁸ But for now the feverish desire to protect Germany from the ravages of the Red Army would see the prolongation of the war in Europe for another nine bloody months.

      The decision to start the uprising under such circumstances has long been a source of controversy, not least because of post-war politics. Even before the end of the war the Soviets began arresting, imprisoning and murdering thousands of members of the AK, and anyone else who might hinder Stalin’s plan to rule Poland. After the war, mention of the Warsaw Uprising and the AK was forbidden. Former AK members and combatants were arrested and killed, and the official line was that a group of irresponsible bandits had started an ‘adventure’ in Warsaw which had been brutally suppressed by the Nazis. Decades later, after the collapse of Communism, the pendulum would swing the other way, and the AK would be bathed in a heroic light in which these valiant fighters for freedom could do no wrong. The truth, as ever, lies somewhere in between.

      The Poles were in an impossible situation in August 1944, caught between two of the most brutal and murderous regimes in history. Despite having been stalwart

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