Wladyslaw Ciechomski (1927-2021): Hero of the Polish Resistance - Part One

This blog is a departure from the usual theme. My partner’s dad, Wladyslaw Ciechomski, known to friends and family as Val, passed away on 18th December 2021. He was quite possibly the most remarkable man that I have met and I want to use this space to pay tribute to him. I will do so in three parts, with the second and third parts telling the story of his time both in the Polish Underground and in Nazi prison camps.

There was nothing Val could not turn his hand to, including planning and building an extension to his house, completely by himself. He rewired the house, did the plumbing, fixed his own car, and made beautiful costumes and toys for his children. At one point he even had ambition to build a boat. He carried the scars of his difficult early years but was always stable, capable, and very, very clever. My partner's nickname for him was 'Mr Fix-It'.

Val was born just outside Warsaw in 1927 and never knew his mother. Instead, he was raised first by his father and later, after his father’s death, by an aunt. He served in the Polish Resistance, was shot more than once, and spent time in a Nazi Prison Camp. Following periods spent in France and Italy, he arrived as a refugee in England, where he met and married his wife, Lily. They had two children, Paul and Suzanne. He was naturalised as a British citizen in 1966. Val was a furrier by trade and owned a shop in Ilford. He was the most capable and practical person I have ever come across.

Val in 2018

Val was not the sort of man who would have someone else speak for him. For that reason, I will let him tell the story, in his own words, as he wrote them for his children in the 1990s. ‘I am trying,’ he wrote, ‘in my simple way, to leave something to posterity and to my children.’ It would, he believed, ‘give them something to think about’.

‘My first memories are of a large place, completely dilapidated. Barns without roofs, nettles growing around them. The actual house I cannot recollect. In the grounds around the buildings and barns, chickens were running free, eggs everywhere. I played detective. Hearing one of them squawk, I would follow in the direction of the sound and collect eggs. I ran free like the chickens. There seemed to be no one to tell me what to do or not. There was no one to play with. Up to this day I still wonder why I do not remember anybody being there besides my father. Somebody must have fed me and put me to bed. I do not recollect any of it. One day all that freedom ended very sharply. A cart rolled in front of the house and some furniture was piled into it. I was put on top of the furniture and we left the house behind.’

Val and his father arrived in a village and moved into an old farmhouse with a dirt floor. A strict stepmother arrived on the scene. Val made a new friend, a boy slightly older than him, called Tom.

‘For a short time things ran smoothly until one day my father went out for supplies and came home later, ever so slightly under the influence. From then on things were strained. It affected me very little; most of the time I was out playing with Tom. However, one day while on the beach, I was very anxious to be on time for lunch. Tom suggested we make a sun dial to tell the time. We were so sure of our sundial but the obvious happened and we were late for lunch. As soon as I walked in the door I knew I was in trouble. I was grabbed by the collar and spanked on the bottom. While I was being spanked, my father walked in. A row ensued. The outcome was that my father took me by my hand and we walked out.’

Val’s father took him to new lodgings.

‘Arriving at my father’s new place was a shock to say the least. It was a wooden shack built only a metre from the road. It could not have been more than twelve feet by twelve. In the middle of the shack stood a traditional iron stove. On one side was an opening to put fuel in and on the other side an iron pipe travelling from the stove to the highest point on the wall. In the winter that pipe would be red hot and anybody careless would have a nasty shock. In the far corner was my small bed, in the other corner a large mattress where my father slept. Close to the window was my father’s bench with all the tools on it. Every Sunday afternoon father’s bench would be covered up with a board and father’s friends would roll in with cards and bottles of vodka. They would play cards and drink late into the night. Sometimes fights would develop but the next day all would be forgotten and ready for next Sunday.’

Val eventually became old enough to be enrolled at school.

‘The school year did not start good. I had no previous knowledge of reading or writing. No one before had showed me a book or talked to me of letters or numbers. The first year was difficult. And the second. Not only did I have difficulty learning but I had nowhere to do my homework. There was only one oil lamp which my father needed for his work. At weekends, father’s enjoyment came first.’

By the time he was nine years old, Val was struggling greatly with academics.

‘One must have some luck in life. A message came to my father – would he take me to the retired old teachers’ convent? My father did not go, but he sent me to find out what was this about. A very small lady met me and took me to her room. It was a tiny place with only essentials but very clean and tidy. The lady gave me tea and biscuits. We talked about school and how I was doing. I don’t know what impression I made, but she asked me would I like to come to her room to do my homework. When I left, she handed me a letter to give to my father. After my father read the letter, he asked me did I want to go, and I said yes. Next day I went to see the lady. We had tea and biscuits and it became a routine. We opened my books and we talked about what I did that day. She would look at my work and ask how I arrived at the answer. While I was answering she would listen and gently suggest another way of looking at it. She was a great teacher. Her name was Maria Kaminska. She did not receive any payment. Besides our schoolwork, she introduced me to the French language. We would take walks in the vast gardens of the convent. What I liked most was the two huge ponds with carp.’

The village where Val and his father lived was full of interesting characters.

‘Some excitement came to the village – the corner flat was rented to four prostitutes. They were very nice women, good looking, with hearts of gold to all the children. One of the ladies presented me with a long yellow fruit. As I had never seen one, I did not know what to do with it. Everyone had a good laugh. Only the lady did not laugh; she gently explained to me what it was and what to do with it. The taste of it I can still remember to this day.’

In 1939, Val and his friends began to hear rumours about the German invasion. 'Great,' thought the children, 'there won't be any more school.' Soon, however, shops began to close, and food became scarce. Then Val's father died unexpectedly, and he was on the move once more, this time to his aunt in Warsaw. Though illiterate, his aunt had become reasonably successful by opening a string of laundries in the city. Val was not the first child that this aunt had taken in - she had also adopted a girl, named Elgenia.

'My auntie had taken Elgenia in for the sole purpose of grooming her as help in her business. From my aunt's point of view, the experiment had worked very well. While auntie looked after the work and workers, Elgenia looked after the accounts, letters, and, most importantly, the taxman. Auntie was generous with Elgenia's education; she had private tutors and university. Auntie had ambitions to enter society; Elgenia was the way. Her ambition was for Elgenia to marry a duke or a lord. What could my aunt not foresee? While at university, Elgenia met a caretaker's son with whom she fell in love. Auntie issues an ultimatum - if she marries the caretaker's son then she walks away without a penny. To the disappointment of my auntie, and to me, Elgenia walked out and we never saw her again. After Elgenia left, Auntie could not cope with the accounts, so she employed accountants. They soon discovered that Auntie not only did not understand accounting, but that she also could not read or write - she could hardly sign her name. They robbed her blind. This reduced her possessions to one laundry and one shop. This is the time I came into her life. Having incurred devastating losses and the shop front full of holes, she still accepted responsibility for taking her brother's son into her care.'

Val's aunt put him to work in her shop but he was desperate to go back to school. For a short time, his aunt employed an elderly Jewish professor to give him private lessons - this was illegal and would have been extremely dangerous. After a while, he was sent to be an apprentice for a cousin who was a dentist.

'On arrival, I saw a well-built man of more than average height and very good looking. He greeted me warmly and said he had to go out. When he left me I went all around the flat. I searched high and low but there wasn't a crust to be found anywhere. I resigned myself and waited for him to come back. He arrived with a loaf of bread, pounds of tomatoes, and butter. As I did not eat tomatoes the situation was grim. I had the choice to starve to death and learn technical dentistry, or give up. I decided to stick it out.'

This situation did not go on for long.

'Not feeding me properly could have been deliberate. Looking at it today, Auntie had probably pushed him to take me in and he assumed that auntie was shifting her responsibility onto him. By not feeding me properly he was solving the problem. He probably had a good meal while he was out on business. Anyway, the problem resolved itself. I was so hungry that I ate a few tomatoes. During the night I was very sick and before I could reach the balcony I was sick all over this beautiful Persian carpet. Fear gripped me and I ran out into the middle of the night back to auntie. This was very dangerous because the Germans had a curfew. Anybody found on the streets after eleven o'clock could be shot and would certainly be arrested. I skulked from one doorway to another; it took me until morning to arrive back to auntie. I explained to her what happened. I thought she would be very mad but she did not say anything.'

Next, Val trained as a furrier.

'One day the owner caught a rat, that's what I thought. But it was not a rat, it was a water vole. He skinned the creature and put the skin in brine. Then he informed me that one could eat the meat. After a couple of days, he took the skin out. It was all soggy and fatty. Next, he produced a low stool with a large blade in front of it. He sat down and proceeded to scrape the fat. I stayed with the furrier for about six months. The Germans called in all the fur people to work in German factories producing flying jackets. As I was only a boy, I wasn't wanted. Auntie made me go and find a job. I was lucky; a boy was wanted in a photographic studio. This was a fascinating place and some of the photos brought in by the Germans were outrageous. In one instance, their photographs showed some naked nuns being poked with sticks. All the Germans were laughing hysterically and treating it as a joke. Some were far more serious - executions, bodies on the ground, all bloodied. People hanging from balconies and beaten with sticks. Today I can't imagine how arrogant one can get so that one does not care who sees those deeds.

'I used to get money for the tram but would jump from one tram to another without paying the fare. This was my little secret from my auntie. She took all my wages, saying that they did not pay even my food, which was probably true. One day a man bought a picture and wanted it to be delivered to his home. As the picture was large, I went in a taxi. On delivering the picture I received a large tip. It amounted to a month's wages! As I never had that much money before I held onto it. After long consideration, I decided to get a wallet which I longed to possess.'

Unfortunately for Val, his aunt discovered his purchase while he was out one day.

'As I came through the door, my auntie started hitting me. "You've been stealing from the till! Where did you get the money for expensive trinkets?" I ran back out into the cold night. It was close to curfew, so I went into the fields close by. I spent a cold and sleepless night, half-dozing and half-asleep.'

The next day, Val encountered a friend and went to stay with him. He never returned to live with his aunt.

You can read part two here.