Senior Rifleman Teofil Ryba, aged 42, tailor, married.
On 18 September 1939 in the town of Kozowa near Brzeżany, I was attacked by about 30 Ukrainians armed with rifles, revolvers, digging forks and axes. I was disarmed and deprived of all personal possessions, as well as beaten and kicked. They also said some very nasty things about Poles, Poland and senior Polish dignitaries. They wanted to execute me. Aware of the death threat, I started to beg for my life. I managed to convince one of them, who told the others to release me. I got up from the ground [angry?] and took the shortest way to the town of Brzeżany, where I went to the State Police station and reported the incident I’d had. But the police could not intervene in this case, as they were expecting the arrival of the Soviet army. I went out onto the street, where I met a large group of Polish soldiers. I asked: “Where to go from here?” They replied that they would go to Romania in order to get through to France, and I joined that group. We embarked on the journey on 18 September before noon, walked for the whole night, but on 19 September before noon we encountered the Soviet army. They took us into captivity in the town of Sarnki Górne.
I was urged onward to Kamieniec Podolski for five days, I didn’t get anything to eat on the way from early morning till late at night. I was beaten with rifle butts and shoved. They used nasty words to talk about our commanders.
We stayed in Kamieniec Podolski for six days. They gave us 400 grams of bread and, twice a day, water with several beet chunks. After six days, I was loaded onto a railcar and after four days of traveling hungry – since we only got 400 grams of bread and boiled water – we arrived at the Żytyń camp. The Border Protection Corps had been there a few days before. There were residential buildings, uniform and food warehouses. It was out of these barracks that the Soviets took out a dozen or so cars loaded with uniforms, shoes and food, and drove them to Soviet Russia every day for several days.
My stay in the camps went in the following order: Żytyń, Sosenki, Korzec. I was forced to labor on the Korzec – Równe road construction. I mostly lived in single tents. It was impossible to sleep during the winter season, with temperatures of minus 20 degrees Celsius. It was too cold under a single coat, the one brought from Poland. There were mostly Poles in those camps, but also some Belarusians, Ukrainians and Jews. Every Pole felt morally down in the camp, seeing the misfortune we had suffered. However, none of us lost hope, everybody was saying that Poland existed and would exist. My worst experience was when a political commissar came one evening, after a day of hard work, and made us go to the spot where Polish politics was talked about. A few minutes into the speech, we heard insults concerning the Polish leaders, and we heard that Poland would be no more. Everyone made a noise in order not to listen to the insulting words about our own Fatherland. We walked out onto the yard with clenched teeth and fists, as we couldn’t strike back harder – any word would get us arrested or taken away to Siberia.
In terms of social relations, life in the camp was very friendly, we consoled one another and shared our last piece of bread. There was a brigade comprising 25 people – it included those less and more capable of work. The stronger ones worked together with the weaker ones, so that the latter wouldn’t have to suffer from hunger, since the amount of food we received depended on the amount of work we had completed.
The medical assistance in the camp was close to none, as it depended on the head of the camp, who gave orders to the doctor, stating how many sick people could be exempt from work. The rest beyond that number, the sick and the limping ones, would be forced by the NKVD to go to work. Those who were going to work were told to hold their hands behind their back and they were not allowed to talk until they had reached their workplace. I once had the following incident: I lit a cigarette at work. An NKVD man approached me, asking why I wasn’t working. Tensed up, I answered that working was for the stupid. He took me away and sat me down in the snow, at the temperature of minus 20 degrees Celsius, for half an hour.
I had contact with my family, however, letters could only be received if the addressee fulfilled high quotas. When he didn’t meet the quotas, he would be notified by a political commissar that there was a letter for him but he wouldn’t get it, because he hadn’t worked hard enough.
I was released from the camp in Starobilsk on 3 September 1941. Under the direction of the Polish authorities I reached the town of Totskoye, where the Polish Army was being organized. That’s where I was enlisted.