A great survivor rests in peace

I buried my grandfather two days ago in a small cemetery in Michalowice, Poland, in the suburbs of Warsaw. He had battled with weak veins and an even weaker heart for more than a year, and died suddenly while dressing himself on the morning of December 11th.

Bronek was an optimist and an extremely personable man who made friends easily and brokered peace with most people he met. He was a self-made businessman who succeeded despite living through the horrors of the Second World War, where he lost his father and brother, and later the scourge of communism which suffocated Poland for so long. He valued family above all else, and he always fought for those he loved. I usually saw him about 3 months of each year or so and we kept contact via email and Skype (if you don't believe that older people can grasp the intricacies of the internet, he'd have made a believer out of you!). I'll miss his warmth and intelligence but above all I'll remember his unquenchable thirst for life. He always joked how he felt young and full of ideas, despite being stuck in an old man's body. Truly, he was the kind of man deserving of many lifetimes, for you knew he could make every single one count.

I want to leave you with a story Bronek told me one of the last nights I saw him alive. It was during this past summer when my family flew in to visit him and grandma. It's a story he never told anyone else until that night, and I have recited it to the rest of the family since his death:

My grandfather was a teenager at the time the Second World War began. As a young adult near the war's end, he joined the underground Polish Army in an effort to resist the German occupation. Like all sworn agents of the rebel army, he carried a homemade Armia Krajowa card that would mean his death should a German officer ever find it.

One day, he was walking with several of his student friends and a few other men, 11 of them in all. They were stopped by a German convoy of trucks, and two officers jumped out. They fired a warning shot in the air and pointed their Lugers at Bronek and the others and yelled for them to climb into the open-top army truck they were driving. Bronek and the 10 others climbed in without incident, since to refuse would have meant death right there. As they sat in that truck staring at each other, every one of them knew they weren't going to survive because the truck was rolling towards the outskirts of town.

Eventually, the truck stopped at a military checkpoint and the officers got out to talk. Bronek looked around and noticed that the forest was about 150-200 metres away. He also knew that Lugers have an effective range of 100 metres, with accuracy starting to dwindle after about 50-75 metres. He figured if he could just climb out quietly and start to run directly away from the truck and get 100 metres away, he might have a chance. He gestured to the others to do the same, but they were too scared. He climbed out, making sure not to be seen, and started to run. Behind him, he heard German voices yelling "Shoot him!" "My gun is in the truck!" and such things, which bought him some time as he ran. Soon enough, he heard powerful gunshots ringing out, and even felt a few telltale whooshes barely miss his body. But he made it to the woods. He kept running for almost 10 minutes before turning around and realizing he hadn't been followed.

Decades later, he visited a cemetery for those executed by German occupation forces during the war. Sure enough, there with the exact date when it happened emblazoned on their headstones were 10 graves holding the remains of those others who had been in the truck with him that day. My grandfather was a traditional man, not the type to cry, but when he told me this story I saw the emotion welling up in his eyes. Maybe be felt some guilt about being the only one who survived, but mostly I think he felt powerless to prevent it. It was a terrible time in history that he managed to survive because of his wits and his strong will to live.

Rest in peace, kochany Dziadek. Bedzies zawsze pamietany, i zawsze kochany.