![]() ![]() Polko crawled over to the other five guerrillas-the majority of them, like Polko and Szerynski, Jewish and in their twenties-spread out to their right. “Yes, sir,” Polko said, and touched the tips of his right index and middle fingers to his forehead, the two-finger Polish Army salute signifying Honor and Fatherland. “Pass the word for everyone to move on my command,” Szerynski ordered, “not a second sooner!” They were hiding under a loose layer of downed limbs and leaves next to the narrow gauge railroad track that wound through the dense forest of the Carpathian mountain foothills in southern Poland. Porucznik (Lieutenant) Stanislaw Polko looked like Szerynski, though was a head taller. He turned to the twenty-one-year-old guerrilla beside him. ![]() The twenty-six-year-old resistance fighter in the Armia Krajowa, the Polish Home Army, had a wiry five-foot-eight medium build, light skin, and thick bushy black hair and eyebrows. “There! It’s coming!” Kapitan Mordechaj Szerynski announced at the faint chugging sound of the small steam-powered locomotive. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |