Thanks to all who showed interest in my poem.? Your emails have touched my heart, and am pleased that so many people were able to hear these words in groups with each other, and perhaps learn from them as?they were feeling?some emotion.?In a group it has to lead to some sort of discussion.? I know many people who are not interested in picking up a history book to read about?the Polish past....many know nothing of it.....I'm neither a ?historian, or? a writer, but if my poem can spark an interest in anyone who reads it, or hears it, then I have touched someone who will eventually pass something from this on to someone else or ask a question. Many people know nothing of the gulags.
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??The feedback I have recieved from this is just unbelievable.?I, too have made many copies at peoples' requests.? I even laminate my own artwork on the cover for them and bind them.? The Polish Combatant society here say they can use it anytime, not just for Rememberence Day.? I am proud that it can be passed on in this manner and perhaps open a new conversation amongst the younger ones who might show greater interest in the lives of their grandparents while they are still alive.???Even in the combatant societies, the members are getting older and perhaps their?reason for being here needs to be sparked up a bit.?I think for many of them just to have heard these words on Rememberence Day touched their hearts in a very special way?and gave them hope that their story will not die with them.
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I wrote these words for my Dad, but this could be anyone's father or grandfather from that time.? Perhaps someone who lost their Dad or Grandad, and never really had a chance to ask about his past can reflect on his life a little bit through my words and feel his spirit.
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For those who could not open attatchements, I am printing the poem in text form and correcting Polski to Polscy.
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For those people who do not speak Polish
Polscy Chlopcy means Polish men.
Kresowiacy means the people who inhabited the Kresylands
Swiety Boze i Matko Boska means Holy Father and Mother of God.
Archangel was a district in northern frozen Russia where gulags and forced labour camps were very common.
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It is never too late to put a poppy on and pour yourself a shot of vodka.
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Polscy Chlopcy
By Hania Kaczanowska
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"Lest We Forget" was boldly printed on the card
To honour those who died for their countries while standing guard.
They were men and boys, young and old, weak and strong,
And each one was to be remembered with patriotic song.
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As long as I can remember, Nov. 11th was your special day.
You shined up your war medals and donned your beret.
As veterans paid tribute with wreaths of poppies upon the square,
You proudly saluted the heavens to all the soldiers there.
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With old trembling hands you held your card and thought to years gone by.
And every time the trumpets roared, I saw the tears that filled your eyes.
What were you thinking that brought you such pain?
Were you remembering Polscy Chlopcy that died in vain?
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Or were you thinking of your own sorrow and how this all began
Because of greed and hatred, best expressed by man.
Were your tears for your little village and all that was once yours?
Or were your tears for the broken dreams snatched away by war.
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Germany was creating havoc and Poland knew there might be trouble in sight
But she was assured there would be help, if she needed to fight.
Great America and England promised if needed they'd rise to the plate
But instead sat silent while Poland's defeat became your fate.
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Were your tears for the broken promises made man to man?
Or for how meaningless had become the shake of one's hand?
Germans abounded from the west and the army was ready for almighty war
But as they were pushed back, from the east came something more.
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On Sept 17, 1939, the Rusks like hungry vultures awaiting their prey
Swarmed all around you with bayonets and for being Polish, you'd pay.
They occupied quickly and took Lwow, Wilno and Luck
What did a young peasant boy know of promises the Nazi's had made to the Rusks?
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In the cold of winter, they knocked on Kresyland doors ripping people from their sleep
And yelled "you have an hour to pack, don't waste the time to weep!"
Old people and children were herded like cattle into the snow
And guns blasted loudly at those who said "I won't go!"
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Sleds and wagons carried you to the nearest railway stations
Thus beginning for Kresowiacy, heartless and cruel deportations.
Crammed into frozen boxcars with little food and hardly room to lay
They prayed "Swiety Boze i Matko Boska, please show us the way!"
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After shuffling you into prison, black raven trucks and a windowless train
They said " Comrades don't cry, save your tears for future pain!"
We will send you Polscy Chlopcy to Archangel and Siberia
If hunger doesn't kill you, therell be scurvy, typhoid and diptheria
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Oh God they were right when they said
that God created heaven
and the devil created Archangel.
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Temperatures so cold, you couldn't bear your skin,
And if you dared spit, it froze in the wind.
Newspapers and rags gently wrapped around your feet
But be damned if you'd let your spirit be beat.
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With backbreaking labour you crushed rocks for their roads
Swinging axes and shovels load after load.
For a grueling day's work they fed you 700 grams of bread
Anything less and you'da soon been dead.
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At night, with barely enough clothing to warm your bones
You fell fast asleep only to dream of more stones.
And who'da thought in this land of Godforsaken ice
Millions of bedbugs? and those bastardly lice.
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On barges and boats they shuffled you around
Then rumours of freedom started to abound.
Dirty ol' Stalin had found himself in a fix,
As his good buddy Hitler pulled out a few more tricks.
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Stalin said "Polscy Chlopcy, try to understand,
This wasn't about you, I just wanted your land.
We'll toast to freedom, and with a new Polish Army we'll work side by side.
Forget about all those men who died!"
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So with release cards and empty stomachs he set you free
You headed south where the army was supposed to be.
Sikorski and Anders waited for the Polish Army to regroup
As thousands of you half starved and sick arrived for bread and soup.
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Were your tears for all the women and children you passed on the road
Each one beyond their years, showing scars of their merciless load?
Did you cry for the corpses they callously threw into the wind?
Or ask if this was punishment for man who had sinned?
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The Brits gave you uniforms and a white Polish eagle to wear on your shoulder
General Anders restored your faith and put things in order.
Stalin held back your bread and insisted that Polscy Chlopcy be sent to the front.
Anders refused because he knew on Stalin he could no longer count.
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Anders moved his army to Persia in order for Polscy Chlopcy to survive.
The Caspian Sea carried you to Pahlevi, some barely alive.
With wounded souls and bodies frail
Thousands were left behind and missed the last sail.
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Were you thinking of this when you choked back the tears?
Knowing how much they continued to suffer for many more years.
You became a proud soldier in Polish 2nd Corps
And fought in Monte Cassino with much determined force.
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Pulled from rags in Russia, Polscy Chlopcy passed the test
They became a great army and certainly one of the best.
Polish blood soaked the soil from your countrymen that laid dead
Amongst the shattered poppies that were already red.
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Polscy Chlopcy stood proud and still
As they placed their country's flag upon the captured hill.
The white eagle soared with victorious delight
For all the exiled soldiers who had won their fight.
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The world celebrated with victory parades and promised fences to mend
But Polscy Chlopcy? were not invited to attend.
Great America and England let Stalin take your land
So what exactly you had fought for, was hard to understand.
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To appease the Communists you were again deported and pushed aside
With spirits crushed and broken hearts, valiant soldiers cried.
Instead of paying you tribute they made you search for home in a new place
While they demobilized your army just to save face.
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Did you weep for your family for whom you would never again see?
Or the loss of their freedoms, while you were in a new land and free?
Were your tears for Polscy Chlopcy as they were being called D.P.'s
Or for the suggestions that you change your Polish name and drop the "ski"?
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You remained proud to your heritage and kept your name.
This was all you had left and it bore you no shame.
On Remembrance Day, you stood alone as you remembered those who died
Because there were no Polscy Chlopcy to share your memories, at your side.
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There was no one here that had shared your footsteps from the past.
And many of the young never cared to ask.
They had never been to war, and they didn't understand
What it really meant to lose one's land.
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Today I stand alone, holding your polished medals at your grave,
And I thank you with all my heart for being so brave.
I thank you for the Polish heritage that you passed on to me
And for raising me in a country, where I am blessed to be free.
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For Polscy Chlopcy, I will scatter red poppies in the wind, just for you
And I will do my best to my heritage be true.
And when the trumpets roar, I too, will salute the skies
For now I finally understand the tears in your eyes.
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Written in memory of my father
Kazimierz Kaczanowski
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