S. Łysiak
Class 7
Jastków, 11 June 1946
My wartime experiences
A January evening was slowly falling. Five men – my three uncles, father and grandfather, gathered around the newspapers sent by the post office. One of the uncles lit a lamp and began to read. Wanting to hear, we all gathered around the reader, listening diligently. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out in the backyard. We all sprang to our feet because a gunshot during the occupation only caused fear and trepidation. At the sight of the men surrounding the house, we turned as white as chalk. A moment later, three Ukrainians entered. They gave a short command: “Hands up”.
Everyone trembled with fear. Only we children and mum raised our hands, while the men stood as if frozen. The Germans got angry that these “Polish pigs” would not follow orders. So one of the Germans grabbed a gun and pointed it straight at the men. We started crying. The German, despite everything, shot several times at the ceiling to increase our fear even more. There was a commotion in the house. Finally, under pressure from the Ukrainians, the men put their hands up. Meanwhile, other Ukrainians were already looking through documents. Fear gripped one of the uncles because he had left his identity card at home. Luckily, he had a firefighter’s card and when he showed it, they considered it as an identity card. After checking the credentials, they began to ask about various things, but we answered that no one knew anything about anything. They walked around the house a bit and went further into the village. We hadn’t yet had time to calm down and they returned with two neighbors. They rushed into a house as if they were a rabble. They shouted and looked through the credentials once more. Several began searching the house, cellar, and attic, shining their electric torches. During such a horrible search, we were all held at rifle- point with our hands raised. Standing like this without moving for half an hour, our hands eventually fell. Finally, the Ukrainians returned. As they had found nothing, they shouted again a little more and went. That was my scariest experience, although the bombing and the front were also terrible.