My grandfather Łukasz Graca
Unfortunately, I never met my grandfather, as he passed away before I was born.
The oldest photograph in our family collection belonged to my grandfather Łukasz (born October 18, 1911; died October 24, 1982).
It shows my grandfather with a colleague, both in military uniforms. My grandfather, Łukasz Graca, likely served in the Border Protection Corps.
Scan of the original; on the left, Feliks Mużacz; on the right, my grandfather, Łukasz Graca.
photo after processing in a graphics program
The photograph was taken on July 20, 1937, in the town of Sarny—formerly part of the Second Polish Republic, now in Ukraine.
We do not know exactly when my grandfather joined the army. As I mentioned earlier, he was certainly already serving in the KOP (Border Protection Corps) by July 1937.
They were stationed primarily in the towns of Sarny and Kowel, where thousands of Polish soldiers were deployed.
In September 1939, they fought first against the German occupiers and then, after September 17, against the Soviet ones. My grandfather told my father that they were initially winning against the Germans. However, they were completely taken by surprise when the Soviets invaded Poland on September 17.
My grandfather recounted that, despite the large number of Polish troops stationed there, they were unable to fight on two fronts—against both the Germans and the Soviets.
The Soviets disarmed them and gathered them all in one place.
They ordered the men to show their hands; this was how they distinguished between lower and higher ranks. Sometimes, high-ranking officers would swap uniforms with lower-ranking soldiers, which is why the Soviets inspected their hands. Generals and high-ranking officers were taken away to Katyń.
My grandfather was an ordinary private (I believe), so they sent him home. They told them, “Go wherever you want,” so he and a few others headed west—back home to the Zamość region. Before setting out on foot, however, they discarded all their documents right there on the spot. Walking alongside my grandfather was a good friend of his—Feliks Mużacz from Dąbrowa Krynicka, who appears in the photograph. They were heading toward Hrubieszów and Rawa Ruska. They spent the nights in forests or barns. People along the way would give them something to eat.
After returning to Pańków, my grandfather never spoke to anyone about what had happened in September 1939, as doing so carried the risk of death or deportation.
It was only shortly before his death that he mentioned a few of the details I have described here to my father (who was an adult by then).
And so, the greater part of my grandfather’s story has been lost forever.
Such were the times.
