The Warsaw Uprising: 1 August - 2 October 1944 (Major Battles of World War Two)

by George Bruce

Von dem Bach had strengthened Reinefarth’s assault group to twenty battalions of infantry, so that he had altogether about 8,000 troops, supported by another 5,000 in the Citadel and in the garrison command.

  A gunboat on the Vistula, artillery in Praga, heavy multiple mortars in Gdansk station and artillery in the Citadel began shelling early in the morning, while Stukas dive-bombed Polish strongpoints in the northern streets.

  Ten infantry battalions of Reinefarth’s troops launched the main attack from a semi-circle including the Citadel in the north to the Royal Castle in the south. They were backed by two battalions of sappers, a company of nine Tiger tanks with 88-mm guns, fifty Goliath tanks, twenty 75-mm assault guns, six 150-mm guns, two 280-mm howitzers, two 380-mm howitzers, one 600-mm mortar, a platoon of aerial mine-throwers, several platoons of flame-throwers and the guns of the armoured train.

  The overall effect was appalling. The thunder of hundreds of tons of masonry crashing down, the shriek and roar of bombs, the drone of engines, the heavy crash of the howitzer shells and the whine of bullets sounded like a nightmare hurricane.

  Under the impact of this avalanche of fire the precious old medieval houses disintegrated into heaps of timber and rubble, burying hundreds of refugees alive. Then the blaze began and the ruins burnt like tinder.

  Dirlewanger’s and Schmidt’s infantry advanced behind Tiger tanks firing at the barricades fronting the main Home Army strongpoints in the more solid Town Hall, the Treasury Printing Building, the John of God Hospital, the Royal Palace and the Cathedral of St John. The Royal Palace, symbol of Polish nationhood, became for this reason, and because it dominated the route to the Kierbedz Bridge, a special target of German attacks. In 1939 the Nazis had stripped it of its collection of paintings, its sculpture, its furniture and carpets, and then practically gutted it.

  Tiger tanks burst through the barricades around it, and Goliaths detonated their way in. German infantry stormed into the main entrance hall, hurling grenades at the defenders holding the top of a broad staircase. The Poles, fighting with a cold intensity, answered with showers of their own grenades and a fusillade of automatic fire. The battle in the throne room, the ballroom and the rooms where formerly heads of state were entertained in glittering receptions was to continue furiously for days while the German ring of steel gradually closed tighter and tighter around the Old Town.

  Towards darkness the enemy bombing and shelling in the district stopped. Poles and Germans were too near each other for night bombardment. By now some Home Army units were almost paralysed by their ammunition shortage. ‘We are sitting in the ruins under the heavy fire of the enemy,’ Major Witold, of the Radosław group, reported.

  Their attacks from the Ghetto have been repelled with heavy losses. Our ammunition is very low and we do not possess a single grenade. The men are worn out. We cannot make a sortie tonight without grenades. If there is to be a sortie I beg for some ammunition; if not, then I beg to be relieved and given a day’s rest…[251]

  A never-ending anxiety was this shortage of ammunition. Having to conserve every round, soldiers could only fire at short range when the free-firing enemy had advanced dangerously close. It also necessitated costly sorties under fire to seize ammunition and grenades from killed or wounded enemy troops. Hand-to-hand fighting often followed these sorties. In the Gothic Cathedral of St John this close-quarters fighting began shortly after the assault on the Royal Palace and continued for nine days.

  Lieutenant Korwin’s platoon was holding a position in the apse and sacristy behind a barricade across the nave. Fragments of shattered marble sculpture of the saints lay here and there on the stone floor beside the bodies of the fallen. Now and then a grenade would be hurled towards the barricade from behind one of the stone columns. Through the vast hallowed space where organ music and plainsong had been heard for so long, the explosion echoed and re-echoed.

  ‘In the Old Town from morning till 19.00 hours this was our worst day of air bombing, artillery and mortar bombardment,’ Komorowski reported to London on 19 August.[252]

  Only an insignificant number of houses have remained undamaged. There is an enormous number of wounded. Enemy infantry attacks following a fierce barrage have everywhere been repulsed, but owing to systematic and mass bombing, shelling and the use of Goliath tanks, the enemy is infiltrating into our resistance points. In the centre of the city there are desperate struggles at the barricades with intense fire from heavy mortars. Our previous hold has been maintained. In the Zoliborz area the enemy has brought up detachments of the 608th infantry regiment. The failure to carry out the bombings we asked for is making it possible for the Germans to exploit their technical superiority with complete impunity.

  The bombardment continued on 20 August and all day the Old Town suffered destruction by bombs, shell and fire, interspersed by infantry attacks which followed each other with great rapidity. The Mostowski Palace came under attack from two sides at 11 o’clock by infantry supported by tanks. The Poles destroyed one tank by Piat fire and repelled the infantry, but in the afternoon shell-fire caused one of the palace walls to cave in. The Germans stormed it and fighting inside went on until 7 o’clock. The Poles then withdrew with their wounded, surrendering the ruined building to the enemy.

  In the south the Germans captured Tlomackie Street and entrenched themselves between the Bank of Poland and the Radziwill Palace. Defending the Bank building, the Poles by the evening had five grenades and five rounds of ammunition to each rifle. In the northern sector they were house by house forced back from their defences. Their situation was becoming hourly more desperate.

  The next day a battle began for Dluga Street, which ran from near Stawki in the north along the western verges of the Old Town towards the Ghetto. After the day’s first attacks by Stukas and heavy artillery Reinefarth’s troops attacked from the north with flame-throwers, burst over the shattered barricades and with great energy fought their way towards Krasinski Square.

  Dirlewanger’s depleted band of criminals tried to force their way up from the southern end, but were unable to break the Polish resistance in the area of the Town Hall and inside the Cathedral, both of which commanded the southern entrances. Schmidt was tied down along the northern Old Town by attacks on his rear by the Zoliborz forces.

  Main bastion of Polish defence in Dluga Street was the old Arsenal building, already badly wrecked. Unable to take it from their positions around the Radziwill Palace, the Germans first rained incendiary bombs on it, then bombarded its walls with 75-mm assault guns. The fire got out of control. The Poles withdrew eastwards into the centre area of the district, leaving one company to hold on as long as possible.

  The Germans had so far not been able to mount concurrent attacks from all sides. Consequently their attacks on individual points allowed the Poles, manning an interior defence, to strengthen them in turn as the attacks developed. So great was their fanatic courage that despite Reinefarth’s huge resources in men and fire-power, his efforts at the end of two days to storm this district where the heart of Warsaw beat strongest, had met with only moderate success. ‘The Polish bandits are fighting fanatically and desperately,’ reported the German Middle Army Group war diarist.[253] ‘The advantages gained by our detachments during these three weeks of fighting are miserable, despite our use of the most modern war equipment.’

  Nevertheless, although morale was still high the military situation for the Home Army in the Old Town was catastrophic. The soldiers were worn out, so tired from lack of sleep and of nourishing food on top of the unremitting physical and nervous strain that they literally could hardly keep awake. An almost superhuman determination drove them on. Abnormally bright and glittering eyes stared out of haggard, smoke-blackened faces marked by blank and stony looks which told that they were nearly at breaking-point. Meantime Mr Churchill, who had not ceased his efforts to help Warsaw, proposed to President Roosevelt on 18 August that they should together send a personal message to Stalin. He wrote:[254]

  A
n episode of profound and far-reaching gravity is created by the Russian refusal to permit American aircraft to bring succour to the heroic insurgents in Warsaw, aggravated by their own complete neglect to provide supplies by air when only a few score miles away. If, as is almost certain, a wholesale massacre follows the German triumph in that capital no measure can be put upon the full consequences that will arise.

  On 20 August President Roosevelt and the Prime Minister sent their joint appeal to Marshal Stalin. ‘We are thinking of world opinion if the anti-Nazis in Warsaw are in effect abandoned,’ the message said:

  We believe that all three of us should do the utmost to save as many of the patriots there as possible. We hope that you will drop immediate supplies and munitions to the patriot Poles in Warsaw, or will you agree to help our planes in doing it very quickly? We hope you will approve. The time element is of extreme importance.[255]

  Stalin answered on 22 August:[256]

  Sooner or later the truth about the group of criminals who have embarked on the Warsaw adventure in order to seize power will become known to everybody. These people have exploited the good faith of the inhabitants of Warsaw, throwing many almost unarmed people against the German guns, tanks and aircraft. A situation has arisen in which each new day serves, not the Poles for the liberation of Warsaw, but the Hitlerites who are inhumanly shooting down the inhabitants of Warsaw.

  From the military point of view, the situation which has arisen, by increasingly directing the attention of the Germans to Warsaw, is just as unprofitable for the Red Army as for the Poles.

  Meanwhile the Soviet troops, which have recently encountered new and notable efforts by the Germans to go over to the counter-attack, are doing everything possible to smash these counter-attacks of the Hitlerites and to go over to the new wide-scale attack in the region of Warsaw.

  There can be no doubt that the Red Army is not sparing its efforts to break the Germans round Warsaw and to free Warsaw for the Poles. That will be the best and most effective help for the Poles who are anti-Nazis.

  Mr Churchill then proposed to President Roosevelt[257] on 25 August that together they should inform Stalin that they intended to order their aircraft to land on Soviet airfields unless Stalin directly forbade it, but Roosevelt declined. He said that he had ‘taken into consideration Uncle J’s present attitude towards the relief of the Underground forces in Warsaw, as indicated in his message to you and to me, his definite refusal to allow the use by us of Russian airfields for that purpose, and the current American conversations on the subject of the subsequent use of other Russian bases’.[258] These were those needed, of course, for the war against Japan.

  Roosevelt’s attitude now was that he did not see what further steps which promised results could be taken.

  The agony of Warsaw’s Old Town approached its zenith. Medical supplies had run out, including anaesthetics for operations for the removal of bullets. There was no bread, very little food of any kind, water only from wells or springs beneath the city and dysentery was rife. Ironically, while its defenders had by now seized from the Germans almost as many weapons as they needed they had nearly run out of ammunition. The German onslaught continued, the area held by the Home Army growing ever smaller under the impact of salvoes of fire from incendiary mortars and artillery. By 21 August, the third day of the attack, some 700 of the 1,100 houses in Polish hands had been destroyed.

  In a desperate attempt to save the situation, General Pelczynski in Zoliborz and Colonel Ziemski in the Old Town planned another do-or-die attack to link the two districts so as to create the through route from Kampinos for reinforcements. Ziemski chose the most experienced and reliable officers and men from his reserve detachments to strengthen the less experienced Kampinos detachments. About nine-hundred-and-fifty men were to take part in this attempt, which included a diversionary attack on the Citadel garrison, covering fire towards the Gdansk station and destruction of the rail track to stop movement of the armoured train.

  But somehow German Intelligence must have heard of the plan, for at about 10 o’clock flares shot up in front of the area where the Poles were massing. When they were deployed and ready a murderous fire was put down on them. Some battalions withdrew, others went forward. One got as far as Muranow on the northern outskirts of the Old Town, but was then caught in machine-gun fire and had to withdraw. Major Witold’s men moved forward and destroyed a German bunker, but he was killed, their position was exposed and they too withdrew. Nor was the attack from the Old Town any more successful. Coming under heavy fire from all sides the troops there retreated with heavy losses.

  Not only had the attempt failed, but about five hundred men were lost. Home Army morale, already tested by the setbacks of the past three days, was seriously lowered. Knowing the bleak future that awaited them, General Pelczynski nevertheless returned to the Old Town through the sewer with a party of volunteers and all the ammunition they could carry.

  Home Army GHQ tried to cheer itself with the thought that while bombs and guns were the Germans’ chief source of strength men and women were the Poles’. Colonel Chrusciel observed: ‘All reports are showing that the enemy’s attacks are weak, and where they are successful it is entirely due to the shelling and the fires. The enemy’s morale is falling rapidly… They cannot stand up to our counter-attacks. Thus, attack is our only possible form of fighting.’

  But the melancholy truth was that about half of these soldiers in the Old Town were out of action, wounded, or dead and buried in the graves that filled squares and courtyards to capacity. The fanatical courage of the Polish troops, the total disregard for personal safety that ammunition shortage forced on them, as well as the German blanket bombardment, had taken a heavy toll.

  So after three weeks’ fighting in the Old Town too few men opposed the Germans. The loads of arms dragged through the sewers from Zoliborz now only served to delay its fall. Meanwhile, Komorowski’s radio links with the outside world became more and more uncertain. Three out of the four sets had been damaged or buried by falling rubble, leaving only one working, and on 23 August his Signals Officer reported that the last was on the verge of breakdown.

  Komorowski took the view that a stoppage in radio communication with the outside world would be disastrous. And since the defence of the Old Town would clearly end soon he decided to move GHQ to the City Centre, where radio sets were still operating. He, his Staff and Deputy Premier Jankowski arranged to leave by the sewers two nights later.

  The next day, 24 August, the Germans staged their strongest attack yet. Squadrons of Stuka dive-bombers screamed down over the defences every fifteen minutes. A barrage from mortars, mine-throwers, heavy and field artillery lasted one and a half hours. Infantry then attacked in great numbers, taking the Hospital of John the Pious after a battle which raged inside for three hours. More than a hundred insurgents were killed or wounded. At one stage the Germans captured the Radziwill Palace, but a determined Polish counter-attack drove them out. Yet the enemy had seized and held on to three footholds in the north and the west. These they held despite numerous counter-attacks, marking further erosion of the weakening Polish defences.

  Komorowski ascended to the observation post to look for the last time at what had been the fabulous Old Town, unique relic of medieval Europe. All he saw now was a vista of rubble, undulating like the desert, with here and there shells of buildings not fully demolished, or a solitary chimney reaching to the sky like a forlorn cry for help. Ten days’ fighting with modern weapons had smashed to pieces a treasury of domestic architecture which previous generations had conserved through six centuries. ‘The ancient houses of Stare Miasto had collapsed across streets, forming gigantic barriers of hundreds of thousands of bricks,’ he wrote later.

  I saw our stronghold which for ten days had resisted repeated onslaughts — the ruins of the John of God Hospital and the smashed concrete colossus of the Treasury Printing Building. Nothing but ruins now remained of Warsaw’s oldest buildings: the Church of our L
ady, the charred cupola of the Blessed Sacrament Convent, the shell-furrowed roof of St James’s Church in Freta Street and the remnants of the Cathedral Tower. The destruction of the Old Town was the heavy price which Warsaw had paid to be able to hold on.[259]

  Before Komorowski left the Old Town for the City Centre he gave Colonel Ziemski orders to hold on to the last so as to enable other districts to continue fighting until Soviet help arrived. At about 11 PM on 27 August he descended into the sewers with his staff officers.

  These dark and noisome passages had become a lifeline for the beleaguered Old Town troops though still a fearsome death-trap. A platoon of sixty men set out from Zoliborz with three hundred grenades, two machine-guns and several sub-machine-guns, the first such trip. Six hours later they arrived at the manhole in the Krasinski Square, so weakened by the poisonous air and their exertions that they had to be lifted out. But there were only thirty-six of them. Twenty-four had fallen and died on the way.

  Except in the largest four-feet-high collector-sewer travellers progressed by bending forward until almost doubled up, holding two short sticks as supports and making short kangaroo-jumps forward. It was slow, painful and exhausting. To fall meant a likely cut from the broken glass with which the pipes were strewn, and possibly septicaemia. Lack of oxygen made the soldiers’ hearts pound, while the fumes in the atmosphere dried their mouths and nasal passages, causing their eyes to burn and water as if from tear gas. Even the bravest men were often terror-stricken when they found it almost impossible to breathe in this pitch-black evil-smelling darkness.

  Panic sometimes occurred for the most unlikely reasons. Once a nurse broke a bottle of ether she was carrying in a box of medical supplies. The smell at once caused shouts of ‘Gas!’ and a rush backwards in which the less fortunate were knocked down and trampled on in the thick rush of sewage.[260] One soldier, who had lost his wife during the fighting in Czerniakow, went mad and ran back. His howls were magnified a thousandfold in eerie echoes from one sewer’s end to the other.