In this photo, Barry the German Shepherd shares the cockpit of a 300 Squadron Wellington bomber with one of his Squadron mates.
300 Squadron, formed in Britain on July 1, 1940, was the first of four Polish bomber squadrons that flew with the RAF during the war. The Squadron initially flew Fairey Battle medium bombers, but soon converted to Vickers Wellington heavy bombers.
The Squadron flew its first combat mission on the night of September 14, 1940, at the height of the Battle of Britain — its target: German invasion barges at Boulogne on the coast of France, which were waiting only for the Luftwaffe to finish clearing the skies of the RAF and Allied planes before crossing the English Channel loaded with the German invasion force.
Nicknamed “Mazovian,” 300 Squadron’s badge was based on the coat of arms of the Mazovian Dukes, and bore the Mazovian eagle, the British lion, and the Roman numeral CCC (for 300).
In addition to the red-white-and-blue British roundel, planes of the Polish squadrons flying with the RAF also usually carried the red-and-white checkerboard emblem of the Polish Air Force (visible here in the lower left of the photo), as well as the squadron’s individual badge.
Photo courtesy Wojtek Matusiak and Robert Gretzyngier.
Check out the products in our Store featuring the 300 Squadron insignia!
Poland celebrates its Independence Day on November 11, in commemoration of the Armistice ending hostilities in World War I, which led to the rebirth of the Polish nation. In the United States, November 11 is celebrated as Veterans Day. In Britain and Commonwealth countries, November 11 is known as Remembrance Day or Poppy Day, due to the tradition of wearing a red poppy in memory of those killed in World War I.
Remembrance Poppy, image courtesy pngarts.com
Many people don’t realize that Poland literally disappeared from the map of Europe for 123 years, from the last of the Partitions in 1795—when the country was divided up by its rapacious neighbors Prussia (which became Germany after unification in the mid-19th century), Austria-Hungary, and Russia—until the end of World War I in 1918.
Despite being split among different countries and cultures, ethnic Poles never gave up the fight to regain their country. They saw World War I, when their oppressors were busy fighting each other, as a great opportunity for Poland to reemerge as an independent nation.
Thanks in large part to the influence of international superstar pianist Ignacy Jan Paderewski, a great Polish patriot, U.S. President Woodrow Wilson included creation of an independent Polish state with access to the sea, as one of the Fourteen Points he identified as conditions for ending World War I.
As a result, November 11 is considered the date of birth of the modern Polish state, and celebrated as the country’s Independence Day.
On this day, parades are held across Poland, and many houses and buildings as well as public transportation are decorated with Polish flags. There is also an annual Independence Run—a marathon hosted in several cities with a number of participants who often dress in the colors of the Polish flag.
St. Martin’s Croissants, photo courtesy babeczka.zuzka.pl
Independence Day also coincides with the feast of St. Martin, when Poles traditionally eat St. Martin’s croissants—a desert that originated in the city of Poznań and is at least 150 years old. The recipe, however, hasn’t changed much since then—the famous croissants are still made of rough puff pastry, filled with poppy seeds, glazed, and decorated with nuts.
Photo courtesy Wojtek Matusiak and Robert Gretzyngier.
Perched atop one of 317 Squadron’s Hawker Hurricane fighter planes, one Squadron pilot serenades their mascot, Lipa the dog, on the accordion, while another tries to entice him with a treat.
Below, Lipa seems as comfortable hanging out on the plane as he is snuggling with one of the pilots.
Named for the city of Wilno, 317 Squadron was a day fighter squadron. The Squadron was formed between February and April of 1941 at RAF Acklington in Britain and operated until December 1946.
Photo courtesy Wojtek Matusiak and Robert Gretzyngier.Photo courtesy Wojtek Matusiak and Robert Gretzyngier.
Its emblem, a condor on a cross, was derived from two prewar Polish Air Force fighter units originally based in Wilno. Before the war, Wilno was one of Poland’s major cities. Now known as Vilnius, it is the capital of present-day Lithuania.
Check out the products in our Store featuring the 317 Squadron insignia!
Today kicks off Polish Heritage Month in the U.S.!
In his Proclamation 5548 issued in October 1986, President Ronald Reagan declared October as Polish American Heritage Month, stating in part:
President Ronald Reagan, official portrait (1981).
In October, we celebrate Polish American Heritage Month in the United States. Our Nation owes an immeasurable debt of gratitude to the millions of freedom-loving Poles who have come to our shores to build a new land. Polish Americans can be justly proud of the vital contributions people of Polish descent have made to our Nation in the arts, the sciences, religion, scholarship, and every area of endeavor.
The military genius of Kosciuszko and Pulaski was essential in the defense of our freedoms in the Revolutionary War. Since then, millions of Poland’s sons and daughters have helped build our country’s prosperity and defend our liberty.
Mankind’s desire for liberty is universal. We are, as a country, linked with the Polish people in love for individual liberty, faith, and defense of the family. We share unstinting devotion to political and religious freedom, as expressed so courageously by Pope John Paul II and Lech Walesa.
We have supported the aspirations of Poles in recent years for a greater voice in determining their nation’s destiny. We welcome the recent general amnesty for political prisoners in Poland as a positive step. We reaffirm our solidarity with these brave Polish citizens who, at great risk to themselves, have sought to expand liberty and to promote justice in their homeland.
As Polish Americans celebrate their cultural and spiritual values across the country during Polish American Heritage Month, all Americans can express gratitude for Poland’s heroic example of faith and sacrifice through the centuries and for Polish Americans’ manifest contributions to our Nation.
The Polish American Congress explained why October was finally chosen as Polish Heritage Month, saying:
Poles in Jamestown, painted by Arthur Szyk (1939), via Wikipedia.
Why is October an important month for Polish Americans? It is the month when the first Polish settlers arrived at Jamestown, VA in 1608. Additionally, on October 11, Casimir Pulaski, a Polish nobleman, and the father of American cavalry, died.
General Kazimierz Pulaski, public domain via Wikipedia.
Another reason for changing the Polish Heritage Month from August to October was to aid participating educational institutions in organizing events during the school year.
In the United States, there are about 10 million Americans of Polish descent, making it the largest diaspora of Poles in the world.
The main objective of the Polish American Heritage Month is to highlight the contributions Poles and Polish Americans have made to the United States, celebrate our achievements and cultural heritage, and share its beauty with community at large.
We, Polish Americans, have always held onto a passion for our culture, values, Poland and our new country, the United States of America. But this month let us show our pride even more by sharing with our networks our cultural heritage, achievements and contributions Polish Americans have made to the United States.
We are ending our series of blog posts about the Warsaw Uprising — which has drawn from our award-winning book The Color of Courage, by Julian Kulski — with this post describing Kulski’s last battle, the order to surrender, and the march into captivity.
Kulski spent the next seven months as a prisoner of war in Stalag XI-A, before finally risking a dash for freedom onto an American truck in early May 1945 as the war was ending, instead of waiting for “liberation” by the Soviets.
CHAPTER 6 AGE 15: 1944 — THE WARSAW UPRISING
pp. 335–337: Friday, September 29 — The Germans are now advancing at a terrific speed. This evening they took over Saint Stanisław Kostka Church and gained ground along one side of Krasiński Street. From a window in our cellar, we could easily see the tanks rolling along the boulevard. Then, after taking positions in front of the apartment house we were holding, they began to destroy it methodically.
Because the enemy was so very near, we decided it would be better to rejoin our company, so we left the cellar under cover of darkness, crawling away over the sharp rubble on hands and knees.
Warsaw in flames. Photo from The Color of Courage.
I noticed that I was not cold anymore. The whole of Żoliborz was on fire, and the flames illuminated the streets, warming the air around us.
All this time, the Red Army waited in silence in Praga, on the opposite side of the Vistula River, promising every day to send help and telling us to keep on fighting. Not a single company crossed the river.
Goliat (German robot tank). Photo from The Color of Courage.
Then the Germans attacked with full-size tanks as well as Goliats [small robot tanks]. All communication between our units broke down, and each detachment was now completely on its own. By late afternoon, the Germans had driven deeply into the southern section of Żoliborz, toward Wilson Square and Krasiński Street. The artillery fire ceased only when night fell.
This evening we heard that General Bór-Komorowski had notified London that our situation is desperate, and that capitulation is inevitable unless large quantities of arms are received at once.
At the same time, he sent a message to Colonel ‘Żywiciel’ to keep on fighting, if only for one more day.
During the night, I joined my friends, and helped them to defend our building against strong attacks by the enemy. I stood behind the window in the cellar bunker, so weak that I was hardly able to stand on my feet—let along to continue firing—but now and then I would climb the ruins of the staircase and throw grenades upon the attacking Germans.
pp. 342–344: Saturday, September 30 — Night — The news came through, striking like lightning. The message was starkly brief. Surrender! The word itself brought forth a furious barrage of oaths from all sides: “Lies!” “Impossible!” Still, all the companies were ordered to line up. We did so, not yet able to believe what was happening.
Lieutenant ‘Szeliga’ stood before our company. I had to struggle to stand to attention and to concentrate as he took a paper from his breast pocket and began to read aloud the order from Colonel ‘Żywiciel’:
Soldiers!
I thank you, my dear comrades, for everything you have accomplished during these two months of fighting with the enemy, for your efforts, pain, and courage.
I am proud that I had the honor to command such soldiers as you.
Remain such in the future and show the world what a Polish soldier is, he who will sacrifice everything for his country.
Soldiers!
An hour ago, as ordered by the Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces, General Bór-Komorowski, I signed the surrender document of our group…
We are surrendering to the Wehrmacht as a regular army, and we will be treated according to the Geneva Convention.
I thank you once more for everything.
God be with you!
Saturday, September 30 — Midnight — After that, everything went like a nightmarish dream. Hardly realizing it, we began to fall into military formation. It was nearly midnight as we started our slow march uphill from the Glass House along Mickiewicz Street toward Wilson Square.
We all made one last effort and marched in an even measured step, as on parade, our rifles on our shoulders. We had to remind the Germans what kind of soldiers they had been fighting during the last two months.
The march to captivity. Photo from The Color of Courage.
With officers at our flanks, we advanced toward Wilson Square, solidly lined with tanks, where the Germans were waiting for us. When we were about thirty feet from a gate leading into the courtyard of a large building, the command came: “Kompania stój!” (Company halt!). Our commander exchanged words in German with the officer in charge. Then we entered the courtyard.
A thrill of terror shook me as I saw the faces and uniforms of the hated enemy at such close range. The Germans at once surrounded us and confiscated our short arms, field glasses, and so on. Then we marched in company formation through the courtyard; passing the tanks standing at the entrance to Słowacki Street, we found ourselves in the middle of Wilson Square, illuminated by the flames of burning Żoliborz. Here, we had to lay down the rest of our weapons.
Continuing Rulka Langer’s account of the early days of World War II from the point of view of a young working mother in Warsaw, from her book The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
Beginning Monday, September 25, 1939, the Germans launched an all-out bombing campaign that would either obliterate Warsaw from the face of the earth, or force its surrender. For two days, the city was subjected to a constant barrage of bombs.
But on the morning of Wednesday, September 27, 1939, the city woke to silence:
CHAPTER 23 September 27: Warsaw Surrenders
(pp. 300, 306, 308)
Rulka Langer with her children Ania and George, passport photo, 1940. Photo from The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
The next morning we woke up conscious of an unusual silence. No bombs, no planes, no artillery fire. The stillness was uncanny. But it was a relief. The Germans at last were giving us a respite.
The house at once began to bustle with activity. People were leaving the shelter, children were allowed to go out and play in the courtyard….
…Zosia was standing in the middle of the room swinging her hat in one hand. She talked breathlessly, and seemed beside herself with excitement.
“Yes, good news!” she shouted. “The colonel told me himself. The British have landed at Gdynia. And General Bortnowski’s army has broken through at Radom, and is marching to the rescue of Warsaw. They are only thirty miles away. They’ll be here day after tomorrow. Yes, it’s good news, tell it to everyone you meet!”
She was almost hysterical….
Suddenly an officer stepped out from the crowd. His face was contorted with grief and rage.
“You crazy women!” he shouted. “How can you go around repeating such monstrous lies? Don’t you know Warsaw has surrendered?”
CHAPTER 24 Bitter Days
(pp. 310–313)
Warsaw Mayor Stefan Starzynski (third from left) surrenders the city to the Germans. Photo from The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
Oh the bitterness of those days…
So it had all been for nothing! The thousands of victims, the gallant effort, the supreme sacrifice, the destruction, all for nothing.
In the streets people wept. Others went around with stony faces. Through the devastated city the wind blew gusts of dust and ashes. The smell of smoke still hung in the air…
For nothing!
Translation of the adjacent Kurjer Warszawski from September 28, 1939. Both images from The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
That afternoon all over town posters appeared on the battered walls, announcing the capitulation of Warsaw…. In sober terms they stated the reason for surrender—the destruction of the water supply. Gave the terms—soldiers would be disarmed and allowed to return to their homes, only officers were to be taken prisoner—and appealed for peace and order. Twenty-four prominent citizens had gone to the Germans as hostages.
Lack of water, of course. A town of over a million inhabitants could not go on defending itself without an adequate supply of water.
But if so, some people said, why didn’t we surrender on Sunday, when the filters were already destroyed? Why didn’t Warsaw spare itself those last two days of inhuman slaughter and destruction? Think how many lives, how many buildings would have been saved…
Nowy Swiat, Warsaw’s most fashionable shopping street, and a multitude of other Warsaw streets lie in ruins when Warsaw surrenders. Photo from The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
Yes, that was true. But if Warsaw had surrendered on Sunday, Warsaw would not have been Warsaw, the gallant city of the Mermaid.
Cities, like nations, like human beings, have to remain true to their own natures. Warsaw had pledged itself to fight to the bitter end, and to the bitter end it had fought. It had done its duty. Perhaps, some day, history would acknowledge the fact, repay for all the death and destruction.
Eighty-five years ago today, the Germans launched their most relentless two-day bombing campaign against Warsaw, Poland’s capital — a bombing campaign so devastating that September 25, 1939 has become known as “Black Monday” — and resulted in the city
In her award-winning book The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt, Rulka Langer, a young working mother of an 8-year-old son George and a 3-year-old daughter Ania, who had been educated at Vassar College in the U.S., describes what it was like to be a civilian in Warsaw on Black Monday.
CHAPTER 22 September 25: Black Monday
(pp. 272–285)
September Twenty-Fifth, 1939. No one in Warsaw will ever forget that day.
Eight o’clock found us already on the back stairs landing, suitcases, gas masks, coats and all. I can still see myself leaning against the wall, trying to shield the children with my body….
Fires consumed hundreds of buildings in Warsaw during this day. Photo from The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
Wave after wave of German bombers swept overhead. They flew so low that at times it seems impossible that they should miss the roof. What on earth was our anti-aircraft artillery doing? Not a shot, not a bark….
And then a little before eleven the bell in the courtyard began to ring.
Fire!
There was a patter of running feet. Someone shouted from downstairs: “Quick! The back of the house is on fire. Bring all the water you have. Quick!”
I told Leosia [the maid] to remain with the children on the landing, and ran back to the apartment. Mother and Cook followed me. We grabbed buckets and filled them in the bathtub. No time now to spare the last of our water….
I was just returning to the bathroom with two empty pails when I heard someone knocking at the front door…. Krysia Malachowska, panting and hatless, was standing on the threshold.
“Look here, Rulka,” she was talking very fast, trying at the same time to catch her breath, “do you know that all your side of the street is on fire? You better bring your mother and your children and come at once to our shelter. We will be glad to have you.”
I gasped.
“Do you mean to tell me that you’ve run all this way through a burning street and under bombs just to invite us to your shelter?” I could hardly believe it.
“Yes, of course. Come as soon as you can. I’ve got to run now, I am needed at the house.”
She was already descending the stairs.
“Thanks!” I cried after her….
I collected my little party. Leosia was to carry her suitcase and mine, and keep an eye on George. I took the children’s big suitcase in my left hand, threw the children’s bedding over my right arm and with my free hand grabbed Ania’s little paw.
“Let’s start. Keep close to my heels.”
I did not glance back at the house….
A raging sea of flames engulfed the city long into the night. Photo from The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
How the house on the left burned! Huge flames leaped from every window from top floor to ground floor. Running, we crossed the street. Faster, faster. If only we could reach Krysia’s house before the planes returned….
If only… Oh God! If only… But no. Even before we reached the corner, the bombers were upon us again….
Polish Army officer Captain Witold Pilecki volunteered for an almost certainly suicidal undercover mission for the Polish Underground: get himself arrested by the Germans and sent to Auschwitz, where his mission was to smuggle out intelligence about this new German concentration camp, and build a resistance organization among the prisoners.
Barely surviving nearly three years of brutality, starvation and disease, Pilecki accomplished his mission before escaping in April 1943. We translated and published Pilecki’s most comprehensive report to his Polish Army superiors on his Auschwitz mission under the title The Auschwitz Volunteer: Beyond Bravery.
Below is an excerpt from the book, describing the beginning of his mission (pp. 11–12):
Captain Witold Pilecki. Photo from The Auschwitz Volunteer.
The 19th of September 1940—the second street round-up in Warsaw.
There are a few people still alive who saw me go alone at 6:00 a.m. to the corner of Aleja Wojska and Felińskiego Street and join the “fives” of captured men drawn up by the SS.
On Plac Wilsona we were then loaded into trucks and taken to the Light Horse Guards Barracks.
After having our particulars taken down in the temporary office there, being relieved of sharp objects and threatened with being shot if so much as a razor was later found on us, we were led out into the riding school arena where we remained throughout the 19th and the 20th.
During those two days some of us made the acquaintance of a rubber truncheon on the head. However, this was more or less within acceptable bounds for those accustomed to guardians of the peace using such methods to keep order.
Meanwhile, some families were buying their loved ones’ freedom, paying the SS huge sums of money.
At night, we all slept side by side on the ground.
The arena was lit by a huge spotlight set up right next to the entrance.
SS men with automatic weapons were stationed on all four sides.
There were about one thousand eight hundred or so of us.
What really annoyed me the most was the passivity of this group of Poles. All those picked up were already showing signs of crowd psychology, the result being that our whole crowd behaved like a herd of passive sheep.
A simple thought kept nagging me: stir up everyone and get this mass of people moving.
I suggested to my comrade, Sławek Szpakowski (who I know was living in Warsaw up to the Uprising), a joint operation during the night: take over the crowd, attack the sentry posts while I, on my way to the lavatory, would “bump” into the spotlight and smash it.
However, I had a different reason for being there.
This would have been a much less important objective.
249 Squadron mascot Wilfred the Goose with Polish fighter ace Michał Maciejowski. Photo courtesy Wojtek Matusiak & Robert Gretzyngier.
Polish fighter ace Michał Maciejowski poses with one of 249 Squadron’s mascots: a goose. While dogs and cats were the most common mascots in military units, they were by no means the only animals adopted to help lighten and build morale amidst the strains of battle and the constant risk of death.
During the Battle of Britain, Maciejowski flew with 249 Squadron, which was a British squadron. More than 70 Polish fighter pilots took to the skies in British squadrons during that battle, in addition to those who flew with the all-Polish 302 or 303 Squadrons.
Overall, the Poles were the largest contingent of non-British Commonwealth pilots who flew in defense of Britain during that desperate summer of 1940. Polish pilots outnumbered French pilots by more than 10 to 1, and were almost twice as numerous as the next largest contingent, which were the Czechs.
249 Squadron mascot Pipsqueak with Polish fighter ace Michał Maciejowski. Photo courtesy Wojtek Matusiak & Robert Gretzyngier.
The 249 Squadron mascots — a dog and the goose — were named after characters in a popular British comic strip “Pip, Squeak and Wilfred,” which chronicled the adventures of an orphaned family of animals. The 249 Squadron goose was named Wilfred, while the dog was named Pipsqueak.
Because their British colleagues often found Polish names unpronounceable, many Polish pilots who flew in British units were dubbed by their squadron mates with English “handles” — to his British mates, Maciejowski was variously known as Michael “Mickey” Manson and “Mickey Mouse.”
Maciejowski racked up a score of 9.5 enemy kills, 1 probable and 1 damaged during World War II. After the Battle of Britain, he was transferred to Polish squadrons and flew with 317, 316 and 309 Squadrons. In August 1943, Maciejowski ended up in a German POW camp after bailing out over France when his plane was damaged in a mid-air collision during a mission. After the war, he returned to Britain and eventually emigrated to Canada rather than repatriate to a postwar communist Poland.
Maciejowski was awarded the Polish Silver Cross of the Virtuti Militari, the Polish Cross of Valor (three times), the British Distinguished Flying Medal and British Distinguished Flying Cross.
Wilfred and Pipsqueak atop one of the 249 Squadron fighter planes. Photo courtesy Witold Matusiak & Robert Gretzyngier.
One visualization of the new Warsaw Metro underground library. Image courtesy TVP World.
As publishers, we love books and libraries. So when I saw a notice about a new super-modern subterranean library for Warsaw Metro passengers, I just had to share with you all. What an innovative idea! It’s scheduled to open this fall at the Kondratowicza Metro Station in Warsaw’s eastern Targówek district.
In addition to books, the sleek new space will feature a gallery and space for meetings with authors, and will be softened with hydroponic plants. There will be a kids’ zone housing books for younger readers as well as a host of multimedia attractions.
Lending will be via an electronic self-service system using special chips for borrowers to take and return books, and its multimedia facilities will also provide interactive cultural and educational services.
Today is the 85th anniversary of the beginning of World War II on September 1, 1939, when Germany invaded Poland.
In her award-winning book The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt, Rulka Langer, a young working mother of two educated at Vassar College in the U.S., writes about the first day of war in Warsaw. She begins the book in August 1939, when she is on a long-delayed vacation in the country. Everyone seems to know that war is imminent — the Polish government has been preparing its citizens for months, with civil defense activities and mobilization orders.
On September 1, Rulka is late to her job in the Economic Research Department of the Bank of Poland because the buses were no longer running: they had been commandeered for the army. When finally she gets to work:
CHAPTER 6 September 1: WAR!
(pp. 75–76)
A strange silence hung over the office. Yet, I could see through a door left ajar that there were people in the boss’s room. Curiosity getting the better of my embarrassment at being late, I walked in.
September 1, 1939: “Germany Has Treacherously Attacked Poland.” Image from The Mermaid and the Messerschmitt.
All that was left of the Economic Research Department sat there in a wide circle, still and silent. All eyes turned towards me as I entered, but no one smiled. All faces had a solemn, strained look.
And the head of the department said in a level voice: “The German army has crossed our frontiers at almost every point early this morning.”
So it had come. War was on. I was conscious of a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something like a contraction….
Continuing our series of blog posts about the Warsaw Uprising, drawing from our award-winning book The Color of Courage, by Julian Kulski:
CHAPTER 6 AGE 15: 1944 — THE WARSAW UPRISING
pp. 314–316: Friday, September 1 — We hear that the Home Army Command has decided that it is no longer possible to hold the Old City, owing to lack of food and ammunition, and to enormous losses. Yesterday alone, three hundred soldiers of ‘Chrobry I’ Battalion died in a single sector of the Old City. So, the thin remnants of the Home Army garrison decided to escape through the sewers to the Center City. Their plan was as ambitious as it was radical.
It seems that at dawn the enemy attempted a surprise attack. This was repulsed, and some one hundred of the enemy were killed or wounded. However, at noon there came a simultaneous pincer attack—Ukrainian SS units from the Royal Castle Square and Germans from the north headed toward Krasiński Square. The famished and exhausted troops counterattacked with their last reserves of ammunition. Their devastating fire succeeded in keeping the attackers from entering Krasiński Square, where the manhole to freedom was located.
A Home Army soldier, with his machine gun, is pulled from the sewers by the Germans. Photo from The Color of Courage.
Leaving only token guards on the barricades, platoon after platoon, company after company, formed a long line. Then, with perfect discipline, the armed men descended one by one into the stinking, swift-flowing sewer.
The trip took four hours through waist-deep sludge and poisonous fumes. The human chain, each link holding tightly to the next one, snaked its way underground. Everyone had to move slowly, in total darkness and in silence. Those who slipped and fell in the deeper parts of the channels and had no strength to get up were drowned. The others could not spare precious time or reserves of energy to search for them, and without lights it was a hopeless task anyway.
The Old City in ruins. Photo from The Color of Courage.
Saturday, September 2 — As soon as the first rays of morning light fell upon the smoking ruins of the Old City, the Stukas began to dive-bomb Krasiński Square. Then, during the day, the enemy moved into the Old City, capturing some thirty-five thousand civilians and seven thousand seriously wounded. Many of the wounded, lying in makeshift hospitals set up in the cellars below the ruins, were burned alive with flamethrowers. The old, disabled, sick and all others unable to walk were lined up and shot, and the remainder were taken off to concentration camps.
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In this photo, Barry the German Shepherd shares the cockpit of a 300 Squadron Wellington bomber with one of his Squadron mates.
