WWII: Siberia came first in long war journey

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Millions of people have stories of great tragedy and suffering from the years of the Second World War. Helena Wislocka, now aged 90 and living in Newton Solney, is no different. But the story of this Polish-born woman’s struggle to survive those dreadful years, told here, is also a truly uplifting tale of triumphing over tragedy.

Polish-born Helena Wislocka (left), who now lives in Newton Solney, suffered great hardship during the Second World War

Map showing how Germany and Russia carved up Poland at the start of the Second World WAr

A contingent of Russian soldiers crossing Poland’s eastern border in 1939

German soldiers cross the border into Poland in 1939

The poorly equipped Polish artillery set off on horseback to do battle with the heavily armed Germans in 1939

During my 58 years in England, I have been asked many times how it came about that I remained here, and why, after the end of the war, many Polish people did not return to their country.

My grandchildren, and I have eight, asked me recently the same question. And a few years ago, my eldest grandson asked me to write down my life story.

I was born in Southern Poland in 1915 in the city of Lwow, which belonged to Austria at that time.

For 130 years up until the end of the First World War, Poland had, at various times, been occupied by Germany, Russia and Austria.

And, throughout all of this period, Poles had fought for their freedom. There were uprisings, arrests and shootings.

Many Polish people were sent to Siberia in Russia. After the First World War, Poles had the opportunity to regain their freedom and, in 1918, we had our first president, Marshal J Pilsudski.

My childhood was spent living with my parents in the west of the country (Silesia), in the town of Katowice, and later in Bielsko. It was here that I started my married life with Stanislaw Wislocki, an engineer whom I had met in Katowice. We married in 1937. At the time I was employed in the post office and my husband worked installing automatic telephone exchanges.

Just over 20 years of peace followed the end of the First World War until the start of the Second World War in 1939. The Germans invaded Poland and all civil servants, like myself and my husband, were evacuated by the Government towards the eastern parts of Poland.

I was six months pregnant when we travelled for two weeks, by train and on foot, while being bombarded by the invading German forces.

Our destination was Lwow, which was now occupied by the Russians, who had attacked Poland from the east. We stayed with relatives and lived from the two months’ salary paid to us by the Polish Government.

My first daughter, Barbara, was born in Lwow in December 1939. One morning in June 1940 at 5am Russian soldiers arrived; we were given 15 minutes to pack our belongings.

I remembered how we spread a blanket on the floor and threw our belongings into the middle, among which were books, bread and shoes. We were to be transported to Siberia.

My elder sister, Zofia, with my parents were also deported to Russia on the same day that we were, but on a different train. They were left in a camp 1,000 miles north of Moscow.

We were taken by train in cattle trucks to our destination.

It was a dreadful journey lasting three weeks. Shelves were put up on either side of the trucks and covered in hay for us to sleep on. Primitive sanitation consisted of a hole in the bottom of the floor.

Once a day, the door was opened and we were handed a piece of bread or thin soup. Our destination was the tundra region of Siberia called Soswa – an open camp enclosed by wire, which consisted of small buildings without doors or windows.

We had to fell the trees ourselves and make our homes.

We numbered 100, among whom were my husband, our six-month-old daughter, my husband’s parents, Josef and Anna, and their youngest daughter, Felicja.

We were made to work by cutting down and sawing trees. My husband, with all the other men, was sent away deep into the forests to cut down the trees and separate them as they were pushed down the river. They spent all week doing this, often in temperatures of -50 degrees.

He would return completely frozen like an ice block. It was hard manual work which we were not used to. We survived by buying bread with what they paid us and selling any belongings we had such as towels, clothing and jewellery to the Russians who lived in a nearby village.

We had to bribe the Russian soldiers so that we could escape to the village to sell our goods.

Once, I remember being caught while walking through the forest with a friend who wanted to buy a goat with her watch. Returning at night we saw the Russians in the forest playing cards by a bonfire they had made.

Unfortunately, the goat made a noise and we were caught. My friend managed to bribe the guards and they let her go with the goat.

I was not so lucky because, after buying some flour, I was penniless.

They locked me up in a dark cellar. To keep up my spirits, as I was very frightened, I sang very loudly. The more they shouted at me the louder I sang, annoying the guard so much that he, eventually, let me go.

I ran home as fast as I could.

In the summer we collected bilberries and redcurrants which we dried for the winter, made tea from the leaves off the raspberry bushes, soup from nettles and mushrooms were our substitute for meat.

When times got more desperate we stole onions and the tiny potatoes that had been left from the main crop by the Russians, to keep our families alive.

In 1941 the Germans invaded Russia, the Ribentrop-Stalin pact was broken and Russia joined the Allies.

The British Government with the Polish Government in exile arranged an amnesty for all Poles on Russian territory.

This freed all Poles in camps and jails, and the recruitment of Poles to the Polish Army, which was being set up in the south of Russia was started.

One and a half years were spent in the Siberian camp before we were finally allowed to leave.

We decided to head south to a warmer climate. For two months we travelled on foot and by train. It was a terrible journey and people started to die of diphtheria and typhoid.

The Russians came every day looking for people that may be infected. When I became ill, it was my husband’s mother who hid me from the soldiers and nursed me back to health.

Sadly, my daughter, Barbara, then caught diphtheria and was one of 60 children to die on that train journey.

My husband and I rushed out when the train stopped, with her body wrapped in a white sheet, and buried her quickly in a cemetery by ourselves, before hurrying to get back onto the train so that we weren’t separated from the rest of the family. She was nearly two years old.

We were never able to return to find her grave.

Then, one day, during the journey, a Russian arrived on horseback and told us that the Polish Army was gathering with the Allies further to the south. My husband and father-in-law left us as they thought that this would be an opportunity to help get us out of Russia.

I was left with my mother-in-law and sister-in-law, Felicja, who was 13.

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