Kostrzyn nad Odrą, 1 August 2001
Committee for the Remembrance
of Poles Who Saved Jews
Warsaw
In connection with the call made by prof. Tomasz Strzembosz, Ph.D., published in “Rzeczpospolita” on 28 June, below I present the story of the Baliński family from the village of Ulaski in the (prewar) municipality of Obryte, Pułtusk district. This story was repeatedly told to me by my mother, Magdalena Seroka, b. 1925 in the village of Obryte, currently residing in Trzebień [...].
Mr. and Mrs. Baliński (my mother did not know their first names), who lived at the edge of the Ulaski village, in the outermost property by the road from Obryte to Sokołów [Włościański], took care of a Jewess and a girl of a few years, likely her daughter. When they first came to them, they were extremely emaciated, louse-ridden, and hungry. The wretchedness of the newcomers must have been shocking since Mrs. Balińska, in a Christian spirit, shared her shirts with the woman, and then they hastily sewed something from the hostess’s old garments. In the barn’s grain bin, Mr. Baliński prepared a clever hiding place for the women, where they were staying during the day. At night, walking around the premises, they would enjoy some much-needed activity in the open air. The childless hosts very quickly grew fond of the girl, who, now fed and clothed, and most importantly feeling safe, turned out to be a bright and pleasant child. After a while, the girl could no longer force herself to sit in the hiding place for days at a time: she needed light and she started to come out to the yard during the day. If the weather was good, she liked best to spend her time in the yard, playing in her own way, like children do. Because Mr. and Mrs. Baliński lived at the edge of the village, and evidently trusted their immediate neighbors, they had no problem with that. In a sense, they were happy watching the girl play in a carefree manner.
One disastrous day, riding down the road by the Baliński property was the commandant of the German gendarmerie, traveling with his entourage from his station in Obryte to the village administrator in Sokołów, one R., to attend a customary revelry. Most likely, the child, engrossed in her play in the yard, was caught by surprise by the sudden danger, and, terrified, acting on an impulse as taught by the adults, started to run in panic – but, to everybody’s misfortune, not toward the house but to the hiding place in the barn.
This reaction, untypical of a rural child, did not go unnoticed by the gendarmes. They stopped. They burst into the courtyard. They dragged the terrified owners to the front of the house. Asked sharply who they were sheltering in the barn, despite brutal blows disfiguring their faces, and despite being knocked down with rifle butts hitting them in the underbelly and then forced back up with kicks into an upright position, they stubbornly replied that there was nobody, that they had no idea what they meant.
Having failed to get satisfactory answers from the victims, who had been beaten unconscious, the gendarmes proceeded to the barn. Screaming at the top of their lungs and firing shots in the sky, they ordered whoever was hiding inside to come out. Nothing happened. Therefore, they threatened to burn the barn down and shoot anybody who would try to escape the flames instead of coming out voluntarily. After a long while, and after the threat was repeated a few more times, the woman and the girl stepped out to the front of the barn. They were shot point blank, no questions asked. Speechless from agony and fear, Mr. and Mrs. Baliński were scooped from the yard right away and taken in an unknown direction. Nobody has ever heard from them again, there has been nothing to suggest they were still alive after this. The commandant ordered that their property be knocked down and taken to the station to be used as firewood, that the fruit trees and bushes be cleared and burned, and that the stone foundations be dismantled and used for paving the local roads. Then, the local peasants were forced to do corvée and plough the empty land so that it would turn into bare soil, without a single trace of the former residents who used to shelter Jews there. All this was supposed to serve as a caution, so that everybody would remember what the consequences were for helping the Jews.
My mother was told this terrible story by Mrs. Balińska’s sister, a Mrs. Białoszewska, the wife of a landless farmhand, who served the organist in Obryte. Mrs. Balińska, though not too affluent herself, owned land and had given financial support to her sister from Obryte, who was poorer than she was. It is, therefore, hardly surprising that Mrs. Białoszewska would visit Mr. and Mrs. Balińśki quite often, and after they were deported, she lost not only her immediate family but also the financial support she had relied on greatly. From time to time, most often on Sundays, she would go to the site where Mr. and Mrs. Baliński used to live to mourn them and pray for them. One Sunday afternoon, as she was on her way back from Ulaski, crying, my mother, who was breeding geese, asked her about the reason for her sorrow. Tearfully, she then told her this tragic story.
I have been greatly moved by the cruel fates of Mr. and Mrs. Baliński for a long time, ever since I heard it for the first time when I was a child. I have always felt morally obliged to keep it from falling into oblivion. I am afraid that there may be nobody else alive who would feel the need to tell this story and be able to do it. The discussion concerning Jedwabne, which is located not too far off the place where this story took place, has reignited in me the memory of Mr. and Mrs. Baliński’s sacrifice, and I have felt the need to memorialize it. It is with relief that I submit this story to the best repository possible, that is, to the Committee for the Remembrance of the Poles who Saved the Jews.
Sincerely yours,
Stanisław Seroka, Ph.D., Eng.
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