16 September 1942

Camp life is full of diversity. Reveille, prayers, breakfast and then we are free to do as we wish. We go for walks after lunch. Hela, Stefan and Bronek came to the PSWK camp. We sit in a grove and sing. The moon shines on our grey tents; it is so beautiful all around. Yet homesickness is aroused in our souls and yearning for what we have lost; our homeland is so far away.

 

19 September 1942

Persia is very beautiful, but my heart is so heavy and sad. Though we are no longer hungry, we are, nevertheless, strangers; this is not our country. Where is our beloved fatherland? We are still in exile. The days pass by quickly. I brood over the same things, when and how will our wandering end?

Camp No. 3: Our camp looks very nice. The tents stand amongst the trees and streams flow close by. The ‘streets’ have names: Obrońców Lwowa (Defenders of Lwów), Legionów (The Legions), Plac Wolności (Freedom Square), Plac Jasnogórski, (Jasnogóra Square) and wonderful Wybrzeże Gdańskie (Gdańsk Shoreline). There is a large pond by which stand trees with their branches spreading over the water. The copper beech with its red coral beads falling into the water provides a wonderful spectacle. Around the pond there are benches to sit on. In the evening there is lively activity and chatter. Some hurry off to vespers while a scout group returns singing from town. The community hall is crowded and cheerful. Further on, there is a band of Junacy (cadets). In one word, life in the camp is ebullient.

 

20 September 1942

Another sunny and beautiful day. It is marvelous outdoors. The greenery and flowers add to the charm. In the morning, as a whole group, we go to Mass. Indeed, we do have something to thank God for: he tore us from that ‘inhuman land’. I feel such sorrow for those who remained in distant Siberia. What will become of them?

 

21 September 1942

I do not feel particularly well today. In the afternoon, I visited Hela and, in the evening, our theatre group gave us their first open air show. The army band played, folk dances were performed by members of the Lwów Theatre.

This may sound fine and ominous but there is so much real tragedy, despondency and despair in the song. Does this poor Polish nation still have to fight and suffer? Why? For what sins? God Almighty, keep us all under Thy protection.

A fragment of the life of Polish exiles on hospitable Iranian soil: Under the Iranian sky in the shade of the rustling trees, amongst the rippling streams of these southern latitudes, throbs the life of a thousand Poles. More are still arriving from afar and across the sea. The canvas of the tents is bleached by the sun; the camp is buzzing and thronging with people. There are so, so many of us. With people who were before strangers, we have created a Polish town. In a distant foreign land, we search for those who are close and dear to us. Sometimes we find them in the camp and sometimes not. During the evenings, songs echo all around. In the night air resounds a melancholy tune. Let’s listen to ’Highlander, don’t you regret leaving the mountains ...’ How strange this song sounds here in Iran. How much sadness and bitterness there is in it. Nostalgia for the highlands, the spruce forests. The deeply sentimental song rises to the sky and there to the heavens. A different melody is heard and the atmosphere changes. We forget for a short moment that we are so far from our homeland and those dearest to us. Such moments do me such good and I even feel lighthearted. We imagine, as though looking through a haze, our Polish villages and the boughs of the roadside lime trees attracting swarms of bees with their perfume. Somewhere in the distance, the church spire comes into view and everything that is cherished and close to us. The singing dies down and reality returns. This was our youthful imagination. The cold facts of life are there again. All we loved is so far, far away.

 

22 September 1942

This date brings back very sad memories; it is the fourth anniversary of the death of my beloved father. I can’t take flowers to his grave or light a candle there. My God! Perhaps the grave no longer exists. After all, it is wartime and masses of foreign armies are sweeping over our unfortunate country. I find it difficult to express my feelings on paper. The academic year started today with examinations. This morning, old and young, were at Mass together. In the afternoon, Hela, Rózia, Tadek, Janek and I started to do the homework together that our tutors had set us.

 

23 September 1942

I’m going to see the doctor today as I feel very poorly. I’m not sure what it is. The doctor could not diagnose anything; perhaps these are the effects of what I have been through. In the evening, I was shivering uncontrollably with a high temperature.

 

25 September 1942

There has not been any improvement for the last two days. Therefore, I’m going to see the doctor on duty. I have been sent to sick bay and am under observation.

 

26 September 1942

The doctor started his round early in the morning. It appears that I have bronchitis and malaria to boot. My head aches awfully, I’m shivering terribly with a high temperature and have no appetite.

 

27-8 September 1942

I am still in sick bay. There has been no improvement and I feel weak. The weather is wonderful, but I must lie here. The evenings are worse as the fever increases; I cannot even recognise the friends who visit me. Considering the conditions, the medical care is good. The doctors and the rest of the staff try to do what they can.

 

29-30 September 1942

At times I feel better but then I have new attacks. The worst is the shivering brought on by malaria which weakens me so much. This is expected to last a couple of days. I am given quinine, which is horribly bitter. When will happier times return?

 

1 October 1942

During his rounds, the doctor increased my dose of quinine. I feel worse in the evening. On top of it all, mother was taken to the Polish Red Cross hospital. My little sister is alone in the tent; although the people are very kind, they are still strangers.

 

2 October 1942

Feeling slightly better today. I must recover because I must visit my sick mother. My temperature has dropped and I feel weak. It is difficult for a body to fight disease when it has been emaciated. During his round, the doctor told me that there is a marked improvement. My heart is sad and heavy. In the evening, I was visited by Hela, Stasia, Danka and Zosia. They are good and affectionate friends.

​

3 October 1942

While more patients are being admitted, I am feeling significantly better. The doctor has discharged me. I have to continue taking quinine and then Atabrine (mepacrine).

 

4 October 1942

A beautiful sunny day. It has been marvelously warm since the morning. Bishop Gawlina arrived as it is an important day. After High Mass, we received the sacrament of Confirmation. The sermon raised our spirits and fortified us in our struggle with our fate. I spent the evening with Mrs. Sułkowska, who is my mentor and consoler.

 

5 October 1942

I still feel weak and so troubled about mother’s health. Not enough strength can be summoned to enable me to travel to the hospital. Stanisław Kot, the ambassador, is visiting our camp. The stage is decked in flags and flowers. He and his retinue are greeted by a large crowd. A few heartfelt words were said to the onlookers. The speech was followed by a show put on by schoolchildren and the girl guides of the Women’s Army Auxiliary Service. There was another speech by Tadeusz Romer, who is to travel to Russia to negotiate the further evacuation of our poor compatriots. So many of them have remained in that ‘paradise’. The ceremony took place in a solemn and contemplative mood. In the evening, as usual, I went with all my friends to the community centre. As youngsters, we still want to live our lives.

 

6-7 October 1942

My health continues to improve quickly. One thought keeps me awake at night – mother’s condition. My sister goes to the school in the camp. The older children try to catch up on their education. Matters are in a state of flux as we are again about to be transferred to other camps.

 

8 October 1942

Today, I shall travel to the hospital to see Mummy. I go to the bus stop and wait. We buy the tickets, get into the bus and off we go. After quite a short journey, we descend and find ourselves on Ferdosi Street. Teheran is a large and beautiful town. The streets, with their attractive shop fronts, are busy and crowded. I remembered past times. Our fine cities are just a memory. We spent quite a long time visiting the town before going to the hospital at the appointed hour. It is an arduous trek as we must walk over stones all the way. I stand by the bed of my beloved mother. She is not feeling particularly well. I sat by her for several hours and it was so difficult to take my leave. There is no-one I can share my worries and pain with. Since I missed the bus, I must walk back to the tent. It was awfully tiring especially after contracting malaria and not having recovered my full strength.

 

12 October 1942

The day is delightful with the sun shining wonderfully as if it wanted to cheer up our life in the camp. The first contingent is being transported to Africa. Some people from my tent are getting ready for the departure. We accompany them to the gate. It is so sad; we got to know each other so well and again we must travel into the unknown.

 

15 October 1942

I am so unhappy and my heart is heavy. It is my name-day. My friends greet and wish me good health and endurance. I managed to get a pass and am preparing to go to town. My dear mother was transferred from the Red Cross hospital to the private clinic of Dr Zapłatyński. He has offered his clinic and services to the Polish exiles. I found mother in quite a serious condition. God! God! What next? I returned from town so dispirited that it is hard for me to write any more.

 

18 October 1942

After Mass, most of the youngsters go to town. I hasten to the clinic to see my sick mother. There is an uncomfortable atmosphere as operation after operation is being performed. After such tribulations, people are so enfeebled that their physical constitution is not strong enough to fight disease. Mother’s condition has not changed. I wonder what will happen. What will be our fate?

 

19-21 October 1942

The days go by quickly without anything of note to tell. Many have already left for Africa. What awaits those who have remained? Only God knows.

 

22 October 1942

In the morning, as usual, I go to see Mummy. The journey time passes imperceptibly, and I am standing in front of the clinic. Mother is feeling better. However, I have a strange sense of apprehension. I am so sad and downhearted. For quite a while, I sat by mother’s bedside. It was difficult to leave; I wanted to stay longer but my sister would be waiting for me at the gates of the camp.

 

23-24 October 1942

The days go by without much happening. It is hard to concentrate on anything because I am constantly thinking about my sick mother. I walked over to Camp 2; perhaps I would find somebody from my region. Indeed, I met a girl from my former school, and this cheered me up a great deal.

 

25 October 1942

I hurry off with my sister to the clinic in the early morning. There is a strange sense of foreboding. After we arrived, I learned that mother was feeling worse and has become so weak. She asks us to stay by her throughout the day. We receive various pieces of advice and instructions from her which will persist in my memory for the rest of my life. ‘Remember that you are the elder sister. I beg you to look after Wandzia. You two will remain alone in this alien world. May the Good Lord protect you.’ We say goodbye to Mummy because the evening has already drawn in. There are no close friends waiting for us in the tent. I cried throughout the night over my fate.

 

26 October 1942

Early in the morning, I am troubled by a strange feeling after waking from a nightmare. What can this mean? As I was finishing lunch, a liaison officer ran up to me saying I had to go to the records office. When I arrived, they told me that there had been a telephone call from the clinic informing them that my mother was dying and calling for me. My legs buckle beneath me. Mietek immediately gave me a pass, and I raced with Mrs. Kala Szymańska to the bus stop. Pain and despair nearly burst my heart. The bus is in motion, and, after a short journey, we stand before the doors of the clinic. I am standing at my beloved mother’s bedside. The situation is very grave. Mother does not open her eyes. She just took my hand and held it tight. Why has destiny brought me so many trials? I no longer have a father and now the dearest treasure, which is one’s mother, is to be lost. I stand and look. The agony tears my heart apart. I stayed for quite a long time and mother does not waken from her sleep. We return to the camp. What lies in store tomorrow? I stayed awake all night.

 

27 October 1942

I hurry with my sister and Mrs. Kala to the clinic early in the morning. What lies in wait for us? We go onto the ward and there is no change. Mother is still asleep. These are probably her last moments. I must be prepared for the worst. Apparently, this is the will of God. In a short while, an ambulance arrived to take mother to the civilian hospital. She looks so debilitated and my heart goes out to her. The ambulance drove off and with that my last hope. Intuition tells me that this was the last farewell. Beloved mother, why are you leaving us? Who will comfort and embrace us? Why has this been my fate? Jesus, my whole hope is in Thee! I believe God will not abandon an orphan.

 

29-30 October 1942

I am so near a breakdown that I did not have the strength to go to the hospital yesterday. What is happening to my beloved mother? Instead, Mrs. Smoleńska is going, and I ask her to make enquiries. The day drags on awfully and I cannot pull myself together. I tried to draw up a list of clothing for the inhabitants of our tent. Mrs. Smoleńska returned and from the expression in her eyes I could tell that something was wrong. What’s the matter? Answer: Your mother died last night. God! Is this possible? What can I do? No, I don’t believe it. What, I no longer have a mother? Will she no longer return to us? I am an orphan with a little sister in a foreign land among strangers. Deep despair enveloped me. The ladies in our tent try to comfort me as much as they can. I cannot come to terms with this. And leave mother in a distant country when she so yearned to return to the fatherland? I feel particularly bitter towards the hospital administration who, without informing me, had mother buried. I couldn’t accompany her on her final journey. I know it is wartime but how can people act in such a way? For me, it was difficult to understand. What do others care about one’s pain?

 

1 November 1942 All Saints Day

There is hardly any difference between one day and the next in the camp routine. Some people travel to other places; others depart this earth for ever. The sun is shining but it is so hard and sad for me. I go to Holy Mass where the tone is solemn, and I cried all the tears I had. If only I could go somewhere and not return so that I can forget, even for a moment, about everything. Irka, Stacha, Wacek and Tadek, dear friends, visited me in the evening and tried to buck up my spirits.

 

2 November 1942 All Soul’s Day

A marvellous autumn day that can only be experienced in this kingdom with its ‘roses and nightingales’. Hundreds and thousands of the Polish displaced make their way along the road strewn with sharp stones past civilian camps 1 and 2 to the now unfortunately ever spreading ‘camp’ of our dear departed. The grey colourless desert is in contrast against the blue sky with the setting sun and the Elbrus mountain chain. Beyond them lies Pahlevi, Samarkand, Kermine, Guzar, Kitab, the Altai and Ural Mountains and that land of Anelli (translator’s note: a reference to Słowacki’s poem about Siberia) where ‘tears freeze’. Hundreds of thousands are still alive there and tens of thousands have remained there forever.

The mood is solemn and contemplative even amongst the youngest cubs and scouts who have come to pay their respects to the deceased. Let’s not awaken the dead with our sobbing. Let them sleep and rest after their suffering and remain fortunate in the bosom of the Lord where they have found refuge from the sorrows they encountered. There are rows of white crosses with the names of the departed by the newly dug graves. An armed guard of honour is in attendance together with the military, religious and civilian dignitaries. The clergy perform the exequies below a tall white cross flanked by national banners and emblems. It is illuminated by torchlight and spotlights. This is followed by a procession around the graves. Then, the most senior member of the clergy, Father Słapa, gave a beautiful and moving sermon. Loud sobbing can be heard. And is it any wonder? There we can see our compatriot from Poznań who, after being deported to a Siberian settlement with his family, is emaciated with disease. He lost his wife, two sons, his daughters and two sisters. He is now alone like many, many others. Here is a young lady standing by me who, a few months ago, buried her only brother in the USSR and now, like me, has lost her mother. There are many such people, so many! We understand each other so well; our fate has been the same.

The roll of the dead is read out and the names of those who were killed in action or serving the country are called out. The mournful ceremony nears its end. Candles and lamps on the graves light up the darkness. One can hear sighs and whispered prayers for those who are now at rest in the cemetery and for all those whose graves are now scattered around the world, those ‘brothers of the trodden path’ which is soaked in blood like no other by those who were martyred in distant Poland and beyond. From the sands of Libya in the south to Narvik, the Arctic Archipelago of Novaya Zemlya, the Taiga region of the Ural Mountains and the tundra of Yakutia in the north. Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord. Finally, we make our way back to our temporary abodes, to our tents infused with hope, believing strongly that our prayers for the dear departed will make the foreign, heavy and crushing earth of their graves perhaps become lighter. We youngsters, above all, believe that when God shall finally show His mercy, which we have begged for in our prayers after so much toil and bloodshed, we will return to our holy land, our ‘free fatherland’. We shall not go back alone but, in our minds and hearts, we shall be accompanied by those who died, our dearest, whom we now grieve over. ‘So help us God!’

We cannot visit the graves of those closest to us as their tombs are scattered around the world. My father and my brother are at rest far yonder in our homeland. Nobody will bring flowers or light a candle. How grim, painful and despondent it is. Mother is lying here in Teheran after all the toils in her life. What can I do? In the silence of my afflicted heart, I say ‘Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord’. My beloved parents, hear the weeping and imploring of your daughters and beseech God to grant us a better destiny. I already know the spot and the number of my dear mother’s grave and shall take flowers there after lunch with friends. It is a vast cemetery, and new graves are being dug all the time. One can find the tombs of friends with whom I shared those hard days exiled in that ‘inhuman land’. They were so young! Their wandering finished at the ages of 18, 19 ... We had so much hope and so many ambitious plans for the future, but fate decided otherwise. There will be no reunion in a free fatherland which is always in our thoughts and which we so miss. In Camp 3, we all gather in the evening. The whole camp is bathed in lamplight. I attend vespers with Irka, Stasia, Jurek and Wacek. There is a modest plaque by which stand white and red flags, and on which is inscribed in large letters: 1939-1942 Grant eternal rest to those who fell in these battles: Westerplatte, Hel, Kutno, Warsaw, Lwów, Narwik, France, the Atlantic Ocean, London, Tobruk. Prisons and concentration camps.

In front of  the plaque, there is a symbolic coffin draped in the national flag. There are masses of candles and lights. Soldiers, scouts and female volunteers form a guard of honour. Young people and the inhabitants of Camp 3 crowd all around. Everyone is gazing at this new and terse chapter of Polish history written on this mournful plaque in the lifeblood of those nearest and dearest to them. Prayers for the dead commence, and then an uplifting sermon from the military chaplain punctuated by sobbing from the highly charged mass of people. A bell sounds, a moment’s silence, a moment of great reflection in which everyone yearns to see their most beloved again. Another bell sounds. This time it is a signal to return to reality. All around, weeping and deep sighing is heard. Will these visits to cemeteries never end? When will the tears dry from our eyes? When will former times return? The tombs of Poles are sown throughout the world. ‘Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord’. To those of us still alive, give us the strength to endure so that we can return to our beloved fatherland. The end of the solemn ceremony nears its conclusion. ‘Anioł Pański’ (The Angel of the Lord), ‘Rota’ (The Oath) and, finally, the national anthem ‘Poland will not be Defeated while We are still Alive’ resound powerfully. Although the rites have come to an end, the crowd remain deep in contemplation. Each person is afraid to break the silence. However, we must come to terms with this truth.

 

3 November 1942

Constant bustling about and chatter in the camp. They are preparing to move us to Camp 1. The present one is only temporary; we are living in tents. Camp 2 still exists and so does Military Camp 4. I shall move to Camp 1 with Mrs. Smoleńska.

I spent the evening with Irka and Zosia in the community centre. We were joined by Wacek and Leszek from Military Camp 4. They tell us about Tobruk. Shortly afterwards, a liaison officer calls me to the records office. I have been appointed group leader and am to help in the move to Camp 1. As youngsters, we have, perhaps, the advantage of being able to adapt quicker to new situations.

 

4 November 1942

Reveille at four in the morning. We are ready for the transfer, and, after breakfast, we walk to the gate. I am in group five, and the trucks have already arrived. Group after group gets into the vehicles. I shall miss Camp 3 somewhat; there was so much greenery with colourful shrubs and streams flowing between them. Our journey lasts 15 minutes; the liaison officer leads us to hut number 81. What will life be like here?

Camp 1 Oh! I don’t like it here at all. I miss Camp 3 and the setting here is ugly. There are two large brick buildings surrounded by huts. We are given boards to sleep on together with two blankets and that is all. The different sections of the camp are named Warszawa, Wilno, Lwów, Krakow, and Kresy (the Borderlands). My hut is in the last section. There are no trees or greenery, only sand. How long are we going to be here?

 

6 November 1942

I am on duty today in the hut. After making a list of everybody’s names, we are due to go to the kitchen for a meal. It is a good thing I have something to occupy myself with. In the evening, I visited Maryla Wypijewska with Ada Smoleńska.

 

8 November 1942

A beautiful sunny day. I go with Ada and Maryla to Holy Mass. People crowd before a large building to listen to the sermon. The altar is covered with flowers. At least, here abroad, we are fortunate to be able to hear the word of God. From a thousand breasts resounds ‘Boże coś Polskę (‘God, Thou who has shielded Poland ...’). Sighs can be heard throughout and tears seen in people’s eyes. In the evening, I set off with Ada, Lusia and Irka to Camp 2 to visit our friends.

 

9 November 1942

An overcast day with the wind bringing up clouds of dust. From early in the morning, they have started on transforming our hut into a brick building. The youngsters give a hand by carrying the bricks. There are many military personnel present to supervise the proceedings. I look around to see if I can recognize anyone and there is Leszek Rozbicki. We had become acquainted on the road from the USSR. He is now in uniform and tries to persuade me to join the Women’s Auxiliary Service.

 

10 November 1942

We are still carrying bricks. After this work, we are quite tired and the more so because sleeping on boards covered by one blanket is so uncomfortable. Wacek and Staszek have come to bid us farewell because their detachment is leaving Military Camp 4. Now, they do not know where they are going.

 

15 November 1942

It is raining and so the weather does not create a feeling of well being. The morning service and then someone will come for a chat. In the evening, Ada Smoleńska and Bronek talked me into going to the community center. There was a good lecture on the current state of world affairs followed by a program of entertainment.

 

18 November 1942

I must collect my mother’s death certificate at Military Camp 4 where there are temporary offices. Leszek appeared again trying to persuade me to join the Women’s Auxiliary Service. Some of my friends have already volunteered. I must decide about whether to study, join the army, or go to work. It is a difficult one as I am also looking after my sister. I returned from the camp without having settled much. In the evening, a large group of us went to Camp 2. Some of my friends are already working.

 

21 November 1942

Once again, I am going to Military Camp 4 for my mother’s death certificate, this time accompanied by some friends. I’m also going to enlist in the Women’s Auxiliary Service in the army. In the parish chancery, I have finally obtained the certificate after they had to search extensively for it. Later, I will have to go before the medical commission before joining as a volunteer. I have made it clear that I shall enlist only under the condition that my sister be accepted as a member of the Young Women’s Labour Brigade.

On our return, we stopped in town for a while. There is a lot of commotion and activity. These people are in their own country not like us who are constantly on the move, and to where? We can only rely on our memories.

 

4 December 1942

I had the medical examination today and was accepted into the Women’s Auxiliary Service. However, my joy was short lived as my sister is too weak to join the Young Women’s Labour Brigade. The head of the medical commission, a colonel, told me, ‘My dear child, do not leave your sister in the childcare center. There are only two of you left. There is also a lot of work for people like you to do in the camp.’ I followed his advice and did not join.

 

6-23 December 1942

I work as deputy commandant of our sector. There is much work to be done since mine is a large area – distributing clothes, making out a duty roster, checking that everything is in order in the huts. It is not easy dealing with people as everyone is impatient and their nerves are strained. Homelessness has had its effect. In the evenings, we go to the community center where there are various lectures and discussions.

 

24 December 1942

A day which fills us in a special way with nostalgia and sorrow. Around the huts, it is grim. Our hearts and souls are burdened with sadness. Did we ever imagine, even for a moment, what was waiting for us in the future? How I miss past times in my homeland, my happy childhood. My life has been ruined by an enemy. The only saving grace of the day was Midnight Mass and the singing of carols.

 

24-26 December 1942 - CHRISTMAS

The evening of the 24th, like the rest of the festivities, is one of joy and harmony. At the table, there can be no disputes or anger. On this joyful day, we should open up our hearts, shake hands and leave behind all previous rancor. These are all beautiful, uplifting words. In our hearts, there is so much pain and sorrow that this Christmas seems different. We are reminded of High Mass and carols in Poland.

 

31 December 1942 – NEW YEAR’s EVE

Today the old year will come to an end – what will the New Year bring? In the camp, life is still grey and monotonous. The youngsters look hopefully and with belief to a better future. Various acquaintances and friendships are made. Sometimes the feelings develop even deeper. I go with my sister, Ada and Leszek to visit my mother’s grave. It brings some relief to my heart when I stand before the grave and tell her silently about my sorrows and cares.

In the evening, a large group of us gathered in the community center. We young people, filled with trust in better times to come, greeted the New Year in our own way.

​

January-February 1943

We are still in the same camp. The days follow on monotonously. I have started work in camp security. It is more interesting; the tasks and functions are varied. Opposite us, there is a British airmen’s camp. We sometimes invite them to our community center and they also invite us to their mess hall. Many of my acquaintances have already left the camp. Sometimes we go Camp 4 to attend various events. My friendship with Leszek has gone deeper. I realize that it is wartime and he will be transferred. We shall see what destiny decides.

 

March-April 1943

Life goes on, apparently normally, in the camp. The conditions are primitive but we are not hungry. We youngsters have our plans and our indecision. I met someone on my path who disturbed my peace of mind. However, my heart says otherwise. All this seems unreal and it is wartime. I got to know Leszek during our evacuation from Siberia but only for a short time as we went in different directions. It was fate that decided we would meet in the hospitable land of Iran. Our friendship was revived and, with it, deeper emotions. I don’t know what the outcome will be. Time will tell. He is serious about our future. Soon he will have to travel further.

 

May 1943

Heartache and grief again. Leszek came to say farewell; he has been ordered to depart. He asks me to be faithful and wait for him. It is difficult to foresee what is in store for us. He has gone and I am left with great longing.

All experiences give birth to memories which, in turn, bring pain and sorrow because of what has passed and disappeared. I very often think that, for my tender years, there have been too many of these experiences.

 

June –July 1943

It’s summertime but life follows the same routine in the camp. I go to work; it’s quite tiring because there are three different shifts. Everything would be fine if it weren’t for the malaria whose symptoms manifest themselves from time to time. I have had to go to sick bay for treatment several times. The social life of the youngsters takes place in the community center.

 

August 1943

Now, I’m working in the records office. We are very busy sorting out various detailed statements. Gradually, preparations are being made for the next transfer of people. Some are to travel to India, some to Africa and others even to Mexico. I wonder where else fate will scatter us. Here, in the camp, morale is quite good. We correspond with friends who departed with the army. Some of them come here on leave. A soldier from the Carpathian Brigade came to our hut to visit his mother. I don’t know why but he invited me to tea in the mess hall. He is quite pleasant and attractive.

 

September 1943

It is autumn but there have been no changes. There is a lot of work to do and we are very busy. In my free time, I go to the cemetery with my friends. More graves are being dug. So many of these poor deported people will remain in a foreign country far from the fatherland. I bade farewell to Ziutka Sulisz, Stasia Maksymowicz and Irka Rojna who left with the army as volunteers.

 

October 1943

A year has passed since I lost my mother. It is hard for me on my own with a little sister. But what can be done? There are some kind older ladies who sometimes give me advice and comfort. However, mother was my best friend. I have returned to guard duty. I correspond frequently with Mietek. Some of my friends have got married.

 

1 November 1943 - All Saints Day

A sunny day. I was on duty in the kitchen between 6 and 10 in the morning. After that, I went to the cemetery and placed flowers on mother’s grave. I asked the commandant to be relieved of my duties in the evening and then went with Jasia and Pola to vespers.

 

2 November 1943 - All Souls Day

From early morning, people make their way along the stony road to the cemetery to pay their respects at the graves of those dearest to them, those who have chosen their resting places far yonder from the beloved fatherland. The cemetery is full of visitors. At each grave there is a modest plaque just saying who lies there. That is where so many have laid their heads; they could not persevere any longer and fate has overcome them. They perished on the long way back to the homeland. The mood is solemn and reflective. White, golden and lilac chrysanthemums adorn the graves. Beside them, candles are burning. People are kneeling in prayer. Sorrow grasps our hearts; tears flow from our eyes. Here a mother weeps for her son, further on children are crying for their mother or father. The departed have been relieved of their everyday worries and are sleeping till eternity. I stand with my little sister. If it were possible, I would remove all this earth, Mummy, and bring you back to life. But this is just dreaming. So, sleep in peace dear mother. May the foreign soil to which you have been banished lie lightly upon you. Oh God! What destiny has befallen us! Mother is buried here in Persia and father so far away in our homeland. Perhaps they have destroyed his grave? Only God knows. Lord, do not punish us anymore, put an end to our homelessness and if it is to go on much longer, give us the strength to endure it. We return to the camp so heavy hearted and sad.

 

4 November 1943

I’m still on guard duty at post number 20, which is in the kitchen, from 6 till 10 in the morning. The army is moving into our camp, and we must transfer very soon to Camp 2. There has been a lot of bustling about since early morning. The army has taken over half the kitchen. Ada came to visit me in the evening. Later, guard duty again. And so, it goes on.

 

6 November 1943

Again, guard duty in the kitchen from 6 till 10. Time flies by quickly. I went with Ziutka to the army mess hall. The evening was spent pleasantly and leisurely.

 

7-10 November 1943

There aren’t many changes in my life. I must perform guard duty at various times. Now, I’m at the main gate checking passes. I spend my free time going to the mess hall, playing various games and reading the books which we have been provided with.

 

11 November 1943

There is tremendous activity while our camp is being closed. The people in the ‘Wilno’ section are departing. It is very sad as there will now be fewer of us. We had got to know each other so well including the newly enlisted.

 

12 November 1943

There are very few of us now. Only the ‘Warszawa’ section remains. Some of the huts have been taken over by the army, others remain empty. It is quiet all around. From time to time, only soldiers’ songs can be heard. I’m not sure what is going to happen next

 

13 November 1943

(Here the diary breaks off. Tadeusz found out from her marriage certificate that she got married about a month later in Teheran. He doesn’t know how long she remained in Persia after this and when she went to England.)​