Read Rising '44: The Battle for Warsaw Online
Authors: Norman Davies
Tags: #Non-Fiction, #War, #History
On 26 October 1943, the exiled Government had sent an elaborate Instruction to the AK Commander and to the Delegate, which reviewed a series of possible variants for the future Rising. As previously, the first variant postulated a widespread general Rising pursued in conjunction with the Western powers. The second proposed scaled-down diversionary activities, in the event that a general Rising was not approved by the Western powers. The third and fourth analysed actions to be taken if the Red Army intervened. The exiled Government reserved for itself the decision about steps to be taken if diplomatic relations with the Soviets had not been resumed.
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A month later, having pondered his Government’s Instruction, Gen. Boor decided to pursue a variant of his own. His Order Nr. 1300/111 of 20 November 1943 contained a basic outline of Operation Tempest. In some aspects, it varied from the Instruction. It was influenced by the consideration that various ethnic groups in eastern Poland might react unpredictably and that a much weakened Polish community in the Borders was in no condition to underpin a general insurgency. It had also to take account of the recent break in Polish–Soviet diplomatic relations. In the circumstances, it determined to use the re-established military formations of the Underground but to do so in a manner which made Soviet
forces welcome as ‘allies of allies’ and to stress their partnership in the common fight against Nazi Germany. Much latitude was left to the judgement of local commanders. Their orders were to take the Wehrmacht in the rear whenever the Front approached their locality, to assist Soviet commanders by all means possible, then to act as genial hosts to incoming Soviet formations. Tempest was envisaged as a rash or scatter of limited local actions, as opposed to one large, coordinated insurrection. In a covering note to the C.-in-C., Boor explained how his order diverged from the Government’s advice of the previous month:
I have ordered the commanders and units which are to participate in fighting the retreating Germans to reveal themselves to incoming Russians. Their task at this stage will be to assert the existence of the Polish Republic. On this point, my order is at variance with the Government’s Instruction.
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He clarified the principles on which his decision was based:
All our war preparations are aimed at armed action against the Germans. In no circumstances can they result in armed action against the [Soviets] who are entering our territories in hot pursuit of the Germans . . . The exception is in essential acts of self-defence, which is the right of every human being.
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The Tempest plan assumed that a general Rising remained a definite possibility, particularly in the more central and westerly provinces of the country. To this end, Boor issued a three-stage procedure of readiness. The first stage foresaw a ‘state of intensified monitoring’, the second a formal ‘state of alert’, the third a ‘state of stand-by’ that would immediately precede action.
Consideration was also given to Warsaw’s role. In the event of a general Rising, Warsaw was to be excluded in favour of rural concentrations. But if Operation Tempest spread as far as the Vistula, Warsaw was to be included as one local element.
Historians have questioned the competence and even the loyalty of the Home Army leadership who put Tempest into effect. Some have drawn attention to the alleged insubordination of Gen. Boor, whose orders for Tempest drew very selectively on the Government’s guidelines. Yet few people at the time noticed the most sinister prospect – namely, that if the Underground leaders ever fell out of step with their superiors
in London, the task of successfully coordinating their plans with the Western powers could be seriously compromised.
The affair of the October Instruction revealed the conflicting positions that were developing within the exiled Government and would eventually lead to an open rift. Yet the conflict has rarely been presented accurately. In the conventional view, which largely derived from ill-informed Soviet sources, a ‘hardline’ faction, led by the Commanderin-Chief, was planning a diehard Rising whose main purpose was to prevent a Soviet takeover. Throughout 1944, the Soviets were demanding the dismissal of these ‘anti-Soviet elements’ as one of their preconditions for resuming relations. A faction led by the Premier, in contrast, was supposed to favour compromise with the Soviets, and was hence assumed to oppose precipitate action. Practically nothing in this scenario corresponded with reality. Almost everyone within the exiled Government was ‘anti-Soviet’ in the sense that they valued national independence and were strongly opposed to Stalin’s arbitrary schemes. Almost everyone favoured a Rising in principle, regarding it as a legitimate instrument for overthrowing foreign oppression and an established feature of the national tradition. The differences arose in part over the practicalities of a Rising and in particular over divergent assessments of the intentions of the ‘Big Three’. The Commanderin-Chief’s group, who might best be called the ‘sceptics’, believed firstly that Stalin was not a person to compromise willingly, and secondly that the Western powers lacked the nerve to confront him. As shown by the October Instruction, they doubted whether an isolated Rising against the Germans was likely to succeed. The Premier’s group, in contrast, who may best be characterized as the ‘optimists’, were determined to accept Western assurances as good coin. They believed the promises about Western brokerage of a deal with Stalin, and they counted, in the last resort, on active Western assistance. Paradoxically, therefore, it was the men who were thought in Whitehall and Washington to be the most ‘anti-Soviet’ who in reality were the Rising’s most outspoken opponents.
None of the leading ‘optimists’ had any personal knowledge of Russia. The Premier came from western Poland, where the traditional stance was to fear the Germans and hence, reluctantly, to look for help from the east. In any case, as leader of the Peasant Party, he felt less at home with international relations than with domestic affairs. Interestingly, all the
leading commanders of the Underground to whom the Government would ultimately delegate responsibility for the Rising – Boor, Sable, Monter, and Bear Cub – had originally been trained as Austrian officers or had served under Austrian command. The leading ‘cynics’, on the other hand, were all men very familiar with Russian ways. The Commanderin-Chief, born a subject of the Tsar, had served in 1920 as Pilsudski’s right-hand man in the defeat of the Red Army. His colleague, Gen. Anders, had been both a Tsarist officer and a prisoner of the Lubyanka. There were obvious exceptions. Gen. Tabor, a former Russian officer, probably wished to launch the Rising at all costs simply because the C-in-C opposed it. Even so, it does seem that those who were most sceptical about the Rising and about the prospects of Soviet and Western aid were often those whose scepticism had Russian roots.
Time and again Polish representatives appealed to the British and the Americans for help. All the British told them was that the logistical problems of intervening in the east were enormous. The Americans repeatedly emphasized that the Eastern Front had been designated as the theatre of Soviet operations and that the Poles must somehow make a deal with the Soviet Command.
The exiled Government, knowing the dilemmas to be faced and the imminence of Tempest, made repeated requests to the Western powers to send a military mission to the Home Army to observe the Underground at first hand. The first was made by Premier Mick to Winston Churchill on 22 February 1944. It was followed by a similar proposal to the American chargé d’affaires in London on the 23rd. The idea would have been mutually advantageous. The Western powers would have gained their own channel of reliable information, and Poland would have been relieved of the suspicion that its officials were spreading biased or alarmist stories. But neither the British nor the Americans were in any hurry to oblige. They did not say yes, and they did not say no. Despite regular reminders, the weeks and months were allowed to pass. Nothing was arranged.
Such was the situation in mid-July 1944, when Rokossovsky’s advance began to impinge on Warsaw itself. At a council of war held on 21 July, the Home Army’s top brass unanimously agreed that the rout of the Wehrmacht’s Army Group Centre was creating the preconditions for a successful rising in the Capital. Notice was given for a ‘state of alert’ to
start on the 25th. Urgent radio calls were sent to London requesting a final decision at the highest level.
Given the tremendous strain, it was only to be expected that Polish Government circles in London were deeply divided. But it is greatly to their credit that decisions were quickly made on the two most burning issues of the day – policy towards the Soviet Union and on the Home Army’s advice to unleash the long-awaited Rising. (It may have helped that the Commanderin-Chief was absent on a tour of the troops in Italy.) The crucial Cabinet meeting was convened on 25 July.
Polish attitudes to the USSR had crystallized into three distinct positions. One group, typified by Gen. Berling, held the view that Stalin’s every wish must be accommodated. Their stance was mirrored in that of the reviving Communist movement, whose long-despised subservience was now becoming more comprehensible. A second group, typified by the Commanderin-Chief, took the line that any attempt to negotiate with the Soviets would end in humiliation. The best course of action was to do nothing rash, to watch developments, to keep one’s powder dry, and, if Rokossovsky entered Warsaw, to hold the Home Army in concealment. The dominant group, typified by the Peasant Party and Premier, however, held that these counsels of despair were self-defeating and that, with the help of the Western powers, some sort of modus vivendi was both desirable and possible. They knew that Poland’s hand was weak and was growing weaker. But they also knew that Stalin was receiving vast quantities of Western aid; and they couldn’t contemplate the possibility that Churchill and Roosevelt would throw them to the wolves. In consequence, they found little difficulty in trusting Roosevelt’s promises, in acquiescing to Churchill’s demands, and in agreeing to send Premier Mick to Moscow for a face-to-face encounter with Stalin.
The other decision was not so straightforward. Everyone could see from the map that Rokossovsky’s offensive was heading in a direct line for Warsaw, where all the command posts of the Home Army and Secret State were concentrated. So there was no time to be lost. On the other hand, the German occupation forces in central Poland did not appear on the point of collapse. Hence, it was impossible in London to gauge the optimum moment to strike; and it was important to balance the countervalent demands both for action and for caution. Three points were agreed. The Home Army’s advice to unleash a Rising should be accepted; the Rising should be limited to the Capital in the form of a localized action to be described as ‘the Battle for Warsaw’; and third, since the pace of events could not be foreseen, the
exact timing of the final order would be left to the Government’s representatives on the spot. The Premier in London signalled the Delegate in Warsaw on the morning of 26 July: ‘The Government of the Republic has unanimously resolved to empower you to pronounce the Rising at a time to be determined by you. If possible, advise us beforehand. Copy through army channels to the Commander of the Home Army.’
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That same day, Premier Mick left London en route for Moscow via Gibraltar, Cairo, and Teheran. He was not due to arrive in Russia for four or five days. His bid to placate Stalin, to win approval for the Rising, and to lay the most practical conditions for the Soviets’ entry into Warsaw, were complementary elements of the same strategy.
Poland’s Commanderin-Chief was deeply perturbed by the turn of events in June and July. A firm disciple of the ‘Doctrine of Two Enemies’, he was as committed as anyone to the war against Germany. But, unlike the Premier’s British and American patrons, he was sorely troubled by the Red Army’s rapid advance and, above all, by what he took to be Allied complacency regarding Soviet realities. He was particularly incensed by the Premier’s plans to travel to Moscow without clear proposals and with no concrete guarantees of Western support. And he suspected worse. He suspected that Britain and America had secretly endorsed Stalin’s ambitions and that the Premier would be forced to capitulate.
On 3 July, the Minister for War arranged for the Commanderin-Chief and the Premier to meet over dinner in London, and to discuss their differences. All three diners realized that the Underground leaders would soon be calling on them for guidance. None was thinking of an imminent insurrection in Warsaw. Premier Mick’s position had been bolstered by his recent talks with Roosevelt. He accepted the Western view that the Soviet annexation of Poland was not a foregone conclusion, and that Stalin, who was dependent on Western aid, was not bent on spreading communism or on endangering his relations with the West.
The Commanderin-Chief did not share his optimism either about Stalin’s restraint or about Western benevolence. His advice may be summarized under four headings: 1. that the war against Germany be continued: 2. that armed resistance against the Soviets be forbidden: 3. that in the event of the Soviets refusing to recognize representatives of the exiled Government, the Home Army should transfer its cadres into the German-occupied zone; and 4. that barring a Soviet–Polish agreement a
general insurrection against the Germans be excluded. This last point deserves to be underlined with a direct quotation. ‘Insurrection without a fair understanding with the USSR and honest and real cooperation with the Red Army would be politically unjustified and militarily nothing more than an act of despair.’
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Nothing could be more categorical. Anyone who believes that the Commanderin-Chief can be counted among the instigators of the Rising is plain wrong.
At the end of the dinner, the Commanderin-Chief confirmed his intention of leaving shortly for an extended tour of the troops in Italy. The Premier and the Minister protested in vain. He left on 11 July, and played no further part in the decisions that were made that month.
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