A Polish epic – my grandfather’s journey to Monte Cassino

As we commemorate the eightieth anniversary of 38 (Irish) Brigade’s audience with Pope Pius XII, I am grateful for the opportunity to share the perspective of my grandfather, Kapitan Stefan Seligman, representing just one of the 50,000 Polish servicemen and women, and the single bear, who served in the Polish II Corps and helped to clear the path to Rome.

My grandfather was a lieutenant in a light artillery regiment serving near Wilno (today Vilnius) at the time of the German invasion in 1939. On 17 September, the Russians entered Polish territory from the East, in alliance with Nazi Germany. Along with General Wladyslaw Anders  and many other officers, he was imprisoned in Lubyanka by the NKVD before being deported to a mining camp in the far north of Siberia.

My mother treasures one half of knitted scarf – a scarf which had been literally cut in half. It had originally belonged a fellow officer, who cut in half and gave one half to my grandfather. In a place where the prisoners frequently suffered from snow-blindedness and polar bears were common, this half a scarf potentially saved my grandfather’s life. Also treasured from this period is a piece of what we might term “trench art” – a statue of the Virgin Mary carved out of soap stone, enclosed in a small carved wooden case.

With the announcement of the Amnesty in 1941, a Polish Army on Soviet soil was formed, to incorporate the tens of thousands of Polish soldiers and volunteers now freed from captivity across the Soviet Empire. With an eye to the spiritual welfare of the men, brutalised after months in captivity, an urgent appeal was sent to the Polish chaplaincy in the West to send through prayer books, chalices and pattens. Priests from rural pre-war parishes who had been caught up in the Soviet deportations now found themselves ministering to thousands of military men.

Bishop Józef Gawlina conducts a swearing in ceremony for soldiers of the Polish II Corps in Casarano in southern Italy. (Public domain)

By the end of 1941, under the command of General Anders, the Polish Army numbered 25,000 soldiers, while the drivers were to be provided from among the many women freed from the camps, including my grandmother. At this point, the Poles were attempting to discover the whereabouts of thousands of missing officers – not until 1990 would the Russian government formally admit responsibility and regret for the Katyn Massacre.

Facing a lack of resources from the Soviet authorities, the Polish forces were transported to Pahlevi in Persia beginning in March 1942: the Persian community rallied to provide clothing and support to thousands of Polish refugees, including women and children, and worldwide appeals for clothing were issued: we have a wonderful photograph of my grandmother posing with a friend wearing American dress robes.

The Polish II Corps was formally founded in 1943. Its training took it from Persia to Iraq, Palestine and then Egypt, before embarking for Italy in February 1944. During all of this preparation for war, my grandfather still found time to woo and marry my grandmother in Jerusalem. Not, to be fair, a huge amount of time: just three weeks between their first date and their wedding, hastened the prospect of my grandfather having to set sail for Italy.

For the Poles, the prospect of marching north through Italy and then on to liberate their homeland, had a particular historical resonance. The Polish national anthem references Dabrowski’s Legions, who had fought under Napoleon:

March, march, Dabrowski,
From Italy to Poland.
Under your command
We shall rejoin the nation.

In mid-March, General Leese had proposed that, given successive failures to seize the monastery at Monte Cassino, the Polish II Corps should be given the task.

“The Germans still held firm and blocked the road to Rome,” wrote General Anders in his memoirs. “I realised that the cost in lives must be heavy, but I realised too the importance of the capture of Monte Cassino to the Allied cause, and most of all t that of Poland.”

Polish preparations were considerable: bringing up huge stocks or ammunition and equipment in secrecy, carried by mules and soldiers in the final stages; establishing a new communications systems, strengthening and widening roads, filling the Rapido valley with smoke screens, engaging in training, capturing strongly fortified mountain positions, and the use of flamethrowers.

Soliders of the Polish II Corps carry ammunition to the frontlines at Monte Cassino. (Public domain)

My grandfather, now in the 6th Lwowski Light Artillery Regiment, my grandfather went into action on 11 May. “Shoulder to shoulder with us will fight Britain, America, Canadian and New Zealand divisions, together with French, Italian and Indian troops,” wrote Anders in his Order of the Day.  On the first day, Phantom Ridge was captured; at 10:20 on 18 May, the 12th Lancers raised their flag over the ruins of Monte Cassino. More than 1,000 Poles died in the battle.

Within three weeks, Allied troops entered the city of Rome. My grandfather’s own journey took him from Cassino to Ancona – and then to the UK and a life in exile: his home town had been gifted to the USSR at Yalta.

The Polish song Czerwony Maki na Monte Cassino, “Red Poppies on Monte Cassino”, was written on the eve of the battle. It ends with the lines:

Freedom is measured in crosses.
History has that one failing.

This is the text of an address delivered by Andre Adamsonon behalf of Jenny Grant at a thanksgiving service in the Cathedral of St Michael and St George, Aldershot, to mark the eightieth anniversary of the Liberation of Rome.