Sunday 1 August 2021

A meaningful anniversary

Today marks the second 1 August without my father here in Warsaw. For the last four years of his life, he'd visit the city of his birth to commemorate the outbreak of the Uprising. Until my mother died in 2015, he'd never leave her side, and because of her claustrophobia, she could not fly. So after her death, my father was at last able to return to Warsaw - for the first time in 43 years. His last visit, in 2019, was the most poignant, not least because it was the round 75th anniversary. The City of Warsaw paid for his travel and accommodation, my daughter's fare flying out with him from London, and my fare flying back home with him - for what would be his last flight. It was such a special week, just three months before his death. 

For many people, the Warsaw Uprising remains controversial. Should it have happened? My father was clear. The people of Warsaw, who'd endured four years of German occupation, had simply had enough. He had himself personally witnessed a street execution; he had narrowly escaped a round-up, he had endured the day-to-day humiliations at the hands of the 'master race'. Like many young men of his generation, he was itching to get even with the occupier as the Eastern Front pressed ever closer to Warsaw.

Chance would have it that Colonel Antoni Chruściel - 'Monter' - gave the order to launch the Uprising from the very same building in which my father lived before and during the occupation - ulica Filtrowa 68. As a result, each 1 August would begin here, at the laying of wreathes in front of his house. My father was unaware that 'Monter' was operating from the building; he suspects it was from the flat belonging to his former scout master. Asked by the Polish media if he knew, my father replied that he didn't know that both his brothers were in the Conspiracy, and neither of them knew that he was in the Conspiracy, so deep was the secrecy.

Below: my father kneels at the grave of his brother Józef, who died during the uprising, aged 19.


These annual pilgrimages to Warsaw were extremely important for my father in his last years; a chance to reflect upon his own personal journey through life, meet family, friends and old comrades - and to see how his dear city had so vastly improved since his infrequent visits in the 1960s and '70s.

Each year, I accompanied my father, the last two years in a wheelchair it must be said, as well as the official events, we spent time visiting the places where he fought during the Uprising - from ul. Filtrowa 8, where his unit waited for the orders to commence, to the Pole Mokotowskie park where he'd made his way across to the Polish barricades by moonlight, under German machine gun fire, to the building of the architectural department of the Politechnika, where he was briefly taken ill with gastric fever, and where legendary singer Mieczysław Fogg sang to the insurgents on 15 August 1944; to the building on ul. Noakowskiego 18 where he saw out the last weeks of the Uprising, holding the line that the Germans never breached.

Each of the four visits were recorded in detail on this blog - you can see them all by starting from the 'this time last year' links below, although because 1 August falls on different days of the week, the programme of the commemorations varied from year to year. You can also click on the label 'Bohdan Dembinski' for more posts about my father.

Finally, we moved offices last year, from the 9th floor to the 4th floor - and from the new extension of the building, to its original historic heart. This is the PASTa building, which was built before WW1 by the Swedish firm that operated Warsaw's telephone network. Not only is it where our office is now located (in the south wing), it is also home to the association of Home Army veterans (in the north wing). The photo below was taken on 3 August 2016 - my father (seated) and his comrades from Batalion Odwet. 


Here's how the building looked during the Uprising. My window is just to the left of the main tower, above the dense, dark plume of smoke.


This time two years ago:
W-Hour on the Big Day

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