Jerzy Wilkowski
Parczew, 16 June 1946
My wartime experiences
When the war broke out in 1939, I was seven years old. I remember one of the most horrible days I experienced. My dad was no longer with us because he had left Warsaw with all the men, as there was a rumor that when the Germans came in, they would murder all the men. So I stayed with my mom and my little brother.
Then, I remember, [came] that day of hell. With the impact at 8:00 a.m., enemy planes arrived and began to throw bombs on all military facilities and private homes. We were in a giant building where people gathered, not only locals but also refugees from the west who were fleeing the German invaders.
And then there was such a noise and confusion everyone started running away on the stairs because everyone thought it would be safer downstairs. Meanwhile, after the surrender of Warsaw, I saw how some tenements were ripped apart to the basements where people didn’t survive.
In the building where we stayed there was also a Red Cross medical station, where they often brought new wounded people. There was a boy who was about 16 years old wounded in the head. The doctors couldn’t help him, so he immediately died.
We sat like this until 6 p.m. When the roar of the planes stopped, dusk soon fell, and we saw that all of Warsaw was on fire. It was a terrible sight. We had several more such days in Warsaw.