Rifleman Józef Babiarz, a farmer by occupation, unmarried, born in 1909, village of Brzegi in the district of Tarnobrzeg, Kraków voivodeship.
On 19 September 1939, I was disarmed by the Soviets in the settlement of Żarki. They took me to Kamianets-Podilskyi, where I was detained for five days. The food was very poor, only 150 grams of bread per day and some watery soup. Next, they transferred us to Równe. Throughout the entire journey, which lasted three days, we were given absolutely nothing to eat. They took us to the border post of the Border Protection Corps in Żytyń, where we were imprisoned from 3 October until 7 November. I worked at the station, loading and unloading stones from wagons, all the time receiving food as per the pathetic Soviet norm. On 16 May 1940, they transported us beyond Lwów, to Zimna Woda, where we were forced to build a road, under appalling conditions.
Many of us fell ill, while the food was barely edible; those who didn’t carry out the norm went starving. A friend of mine, Franciszek Marszałek from Jasło, was amongst those who succumbed to the hunger.
After three months of this ordeal they sent us – some 300 to 350 in all – to Gródek Jagielloński. The conditions there were somewhat improved, and we had medical care. But alas, after only a short while they drove us on foot, organized into two brigades, to Mościska. I remained there until 1 March 1941. In March, they transported us deep into Russia, to the township Dzieleńce in the Ukraine. I lived there in an unheated barrack, suffering hunger and cold. We cleared roads of enormous snowdrifts; it was backbreaking toil. Using every last ounce of strength, you could earn 600 grams of bread. The working day lasted twelve hours. Only in May 1941 did they send me to the township of Teofipol, in the Kiev Oblast, where I worked as a carpenter. Toiling the sweat of my brow, I earned my bloodied slice of bread working on the renovation of an airfield. This took two months, and in July 1941 the NKVD drove us on foot for 19 days, right to the other bank of the Dnieper, with nearly no food or water. We were allowed to pause for no more than two to three hours a day, while the places that they chose for such rests were invariably muddy and waterlogged. When during this trek – in itself difficult to describe – any civilians attempted to give us a slice of bread, both their fate and ours would be unenviable. The first part of this odyssey finally came to an end in Zlotonosha. There they loaded us onto railcars and we set off for Starobilsk, where I remained for some time. I then fell ill and was taken to hospital. While there, I learned of the miraculous and wonderful Polish-Soviet agreement. From then on, the conditions started to improve right until our release. We were finally let go on 3 August 1941. I immediately enlisted in the Polish Army.
Official stamp, 5 March 1943