** POLAND  2010  -  Weeks 5~7 **

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CAMPING IN POLAND 2010 - Tatra Mountains, Pieniny, Beskid Niski, Bieszczady Hills and Ukraine border:

Leaving Kraków on the busy Route 7, forested hills graced the southern skyline, a foretaste of the alpine Tatra Mountains which form the Polish border with Slovakia. In the foothills, we paused at Chabówka, a village which grew up in the late 19th century Habsburg days around an important railway junction; the former depot is now site of the Chabówka Steam Railway Skansen (Taboru Kolejowega) which houses a large collection of Polish steam engines. Some of the express locomotives have been beautifully restored to working order with their peculiar East European smoke-deflectors, but most now stand in lines of forlornly rusting hulks. The depot supplied the engine and cattle trucks for the scenes in Spielberg's Schindler's List film showing the transportation of Jews to Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Click on 2 regions of map for details of South-eastern Poland

A minor road led through the sparsely populated Podhale foothills region of lush rolling meadows and winding valleys edged by dark pines; our reason for taking this back route was to re-visit the border village of Chochołow (pronounced Ho-ho-wov) which we had last seen 2 years ago when crossing from Slovakia. This alpine farming village's traditional log-built houses standing end-on to the road were having their wood shingle roofs re-creosoted and their walls repaired, and elderly gents led cows in ones and twos back from the meadows for afternoon milking. Such traditional wooden houses lined the road leading through alpine meadows to the mountain resort of Zakopane which was to be the base for our 4 day stay in the Western Tatra Mountains. We eventually found Ustup Camping in the northern outskirts of Zakopane, next to a well-stocked supermarket, and were welcomed in truly friendly manner at this small and delightful family-run campsite; hospitality does not come better than this. The views of the distant craggy Tatras skyline from Zakopane, lit by the setting sun on the evening of our arrival were magnificent (Photo 1 - Tatra Mountains skyline from Zakpane); little did we know at this stage that with 4 days of continuous rain, this would be our only such view.

The following morning, a heavy cloud layer totally obscured the Tatras peaks, but packing full mountain rain gear, we caught the minibus into Zakopane with plans to explore one of the alpine dolinas. The so-called bus station was utter chaos and all the buses seemed destined for Chochołowska Dolina; the decision on our day's walking was made for us by where the buses were going. The bus gained height rapidly through a succession of attractive alpine wooden settlements, eventually turning into the Chochołowska valley to drop us at the peaceful alpine meadows of Siwa Polana where our walk began and where alpine cattle were being hand-milked. A long and tedious walk through pine woods with occasional tantalising glimpses of the high Tatras ridges above the dark trees, brought us out eventually into the open alpine meadows of Chochołowska Polana where tethered cattle grazed by the wooden cabins. It was a delightful scene with the high craggy Tatras peaks skyline appearing above the gloomy pines (Photo 2 - Alpine meadow of Chochołowska Polana). The path led eventually to the steeply-roofed wooden alpine hut where Pope John-Paul II held a clandestine meeting in 1983 with the then Solidarity leader Lech Walęsa. We had just about escaped the rain for our first day in the hills, but by the time we were back at camp at Ustup that evening, the air temperature was down to 15°C, less than half that of a week ago.

Then the rain did arrive, wretchedly miserable rain, totally obscuring even the pine-covered hillside above Ustup Camping and frustratingly keeping us in camp next day, but giving opportunity to perfect our recipe for bigos, the warming traditional Polish smoked sausage and shredded cabbage stew. Next day despite the still low rain cloud, we had to brave another venture into the hills, the exact destination being determined by whatever bus we could catch from Zakopane. This time, Kuźnice seemed the easiest of venues, starting point for the walking route up to the peak of Giemont, and although this was out of the question in such poor conditions, it did at least get us out of the valley. In full rain gear, we felt distinctly over-dressed compared with most of the Poles who were protected against the driving mountain rain by little more than plastic capes. The path led up past a mountain hut onto the open alpine meadows of Polana Kalatówki; what should have been a magnificent mountain panorama was totally obscured by dismal misty cloud swirling among the pines (Photo 3 - Alpine meadows of Polana Kalatówki in pouring rain). Despite the driving, soaking mist, we took our photos and pressed on upwards on a well-defined path through the pine woods, leading to the upper hut of Kondratowej Hali, a classic wooden alpine chata (Photo 4 - Alpine refuge of Kondratowej Hali in rain cloud) where we were glad to seek shelter before descending through the eerily dark pines (Photo 5 - Forested mountain path above Polana Kalatówki in rain). Back at camp, we had the long job of shedding and stowing wet kit to await drying whenever fine weather would eventually return. We seemed fated never to enjoy fine weather in the Tatra Mountains, our days on the Slovak side 2 years ago frustrated by continuous rain.

We moved on through the Spicz region, traditional home of the Górale people and annexed by the newly independent Poland from the similarly new state of Czechoslovakia in 1920. This was clearly still an economically backward region, heavily dependent on tourist income as was clear from the numbers of people squatting on stools by the roadside under umbrellas in pouring rain with their placards promoting Wolne Pokojy (Rooms free). Beyond the dreary town of Nowy Targ, our first stop was to visit the beautiful 15th century wooden Gothic church in the village of Dębno. The church's interior murals dating from 1500 are made up of 77 different folk-art geometric motifs in 33 colours covering walls and ceiling. The paintings have survived for 500 years keeping their original soft tones without need for restoration (Photo 6 - 15th century Catholic wooden church at Dębno). The kindly priest was impressed that we had come all the way from Wielka Brytania to visit his church. Outside in the village, a stork stood forlornly on its nest in the pouring rain, urging its youngster to hurry and learn to fly so that they could get away to Africa to escape this foul weather.

Our campsite that night, Polana Sosny, was set just below the Czorsztyn dam which as a controversial hydroelectric scheme had created the Czorsztyn reservoir flooding several Dunajec villages. Set in a flat, well-drained meadow alongside the Dunajec River opposite the traditional Pieniny Hills farming settlement of Sromowce Wyżne, this was a commendably welcoming and good value campsite, well-appointed in such wretched weather. Their free wi-fi link, the first in Poland, enabled us to collect emails and upload our new web edition. After more than a week of constant rain, the air was filled with the savage roaring sound of the River Dunajec in surging spate; this did not augur well for our anticipated river rafting trip along the Dunajec Gorge which formed the border with Slovakia where we had camped 2 years ago at Ĉervanę Kláŝtor. The following morning remarkably dawned fine, but inevitably all rafting was cancelled; with the river in spate, it was simply too dangerous and all the rafts were piled on the embankment. A walk up to the dam showed just how fearsomely the river was running in spate with the overflow from the sluices creating a turbulent maelstrom   (Photo 7 - River Dunajec in spate at Czorszyn Dam after heavy rain). In stead we crossed the nearby border to the Slovak side for a walk along the limestone Dunajec Gorge. Even from the riverside path, the surging Dunajec felt threateningly fast-running, but our eyes were drawn upwards to the magnificent limestone pinnacles of the Three Crowns (Trzy Korony) towering overhead on the Polish side, part of the Pieniny National Park (Photo 8 - Trzy Korony (Three Crowns) limestone peaks). The path wound alongside the swirling muddy river which surged into vicious rapids at the narrowing turns; a few hardy canoeists braved these rapids, crashing through the snarling waters. The high, craggy tree-covered cliffs of the gorge were lit by bright sunshine making for a spectacular walk (Photo 9 - Dunajec River Gorge from Slovak shore). Since we were there 2 years ago, Slovakia has adopted the Euro, but just across the border, our Polish złotys were readily accepted for us to enjoy nostalgic glasses of Žlaty Bažant Slovak beers on our return to Ĉervanę Kláŝtor.

Leaving Polana Sosny, we crossed the Pieniny Hills where strip-farming and hay-cutting by hand are still the tradition and horse-drawn carts very much the norm. The views of the distant outline of the Tatra peaks and dark pine forests across the rolling hillsides were truly magnificent. Our onward road ran along the Dunajec valley, at times uncomfortably close to the brink of the embankment with the river still running in high spate. After a pause at the unassuming but delightful town of Stary Sącz, we crossed the Poprad River to the modern industrial town of Nowy Sącz. The large skansen set in the town's suburbs was said to house one of Poland's finest collection of Carpathian wooden rural architecture, but on a dull, rainy day, superlatives were in short supply. Braving the efforts of pipe-laying contractors to deny us access and a crucial bridge washed away by recent rains, we appreciated the help of a local man to guide us by an alternative route to reach the skansen. Similarly braving more rain, we toured the collection of early 20th century farmstead wooden buildings and village school, and photographed the wooden Catholic and Orthodox churches (Photo 10 - Catholic and Orthodox wooden churches at Nowy Sącz Skansen), before the rain finally forced us to seek shelter under the dripping thatch eaves of one of the farmsteads; 2 forlorn figures squatting on a wooden threshold in the pouring rain. Nowy Sącz campsite that evening provided modest shelter and even more welcome beer as the storms continued on a dark and gloomy evening.

Continuing eastward over the rolling Beskid Niski Hills, we paused briefly at Grybow, a small market town so typical of this region which must have suffered such devastation in both WW1 and WW2, as its modern church showed (Photo 11 - Post-WW1 church at Grybow in Beskid Niski). The next town, Gorlice, was scene of crucial WW1 Eastern Front battles in 1915 when the Tsarist Russian advance was halted and pushed back on a 150 mile front by combined Austro-Hungarian and German forces. During 3 days of fighting in May 1915, 20,000 men were killed and 90% of Gorlice left in ruins. The war dead, including Russians, Germans and all the nationalities of the Habsburg Empire, were buried in a number of war cemeteries around the town. Modern Gorlice is an unassuming little town with no great sights to attract visitors, but its central Rynek is full of charm with a Carillion which plays Auld Lang Syne at 1-00pm. Our experience suggests an inverse correlation between a place's popularity with tourists and the attitude of its TIC staff; the ladies at Gorlice TIC were a credit to their town, showing commendable attention to duty in helping us to find the largest of Gorlice's WW1 war cemeteries. At this hilltop site above the town, 913 soldiers killed in the 1915 fighting from all 3 armies are buried (Photo 12 - WW1 war cemetery at Gorlice from 1915 battles). Unlike CWGC cemeteries, this was a dark and gloomy place, and the plaque on the central memorial cross, erected in 1928 after Poland had regained her independence, recorded the tragedy of WW1 for Poland with Poles being conscripted into the armies of the 3 Partitioning Powers (Prussia and Austria in conflict with Tsarist Russia) and forced in foreign uniforms to kill fellow Poles.

Just beyond the small town of Biecz, which had grown wealthy from its medieval trade monopoly on Hungarian wines as its huge parish church and recently renovated sgraffito-decorated Renaissance town hall tower showed, we turned off to find the Catholic wooden church at Binarova village. Built in 1500 in late Gothic style, the church's interior was decorated with floral folk-art designs similar in style to Dębno (Photo 13 - 15th century Catholic wooden church at Binarowa).

Further east, we passed Krosno which, since the earliest distillation of crude oil in the mid-19th century, had become the petroleum capital of Poland, the heart of the country's richest oil reserves, and today is a large industrial city. Our experience also suggests a positive correlation between a town's modern day prosperity and the standards of its driving; judging by the unpleasantly aggressive driving standards around Krosno, it must be a prosperous city, and we were glad to get past safely. Turning south on Route 9 towards the Dukla Pass which leads over the Carpathians into Slovakia, we took a narrow lane to Bóbrka past an area of modern commercially worked oil wells to find the Muzeum Przemysłu Naftowega (Museum of the Oil and Gas Industry) named in honour of Ignacy Łukasiewicz, the 19th century father of the Polish oil industry. Born of wealthy Galician parents, Łukasiewicz trained as a pharmacist and developed an interest in the potential of naturally occurring 'seep oil' which gathered in surface hollows in the sub-Carpathian valley near to Bóbrka and was used by farmers to grease cart axles and treat sick animals. In 1853, using his pharmaceutical skills, Łukasiewicz distilled kerosene from seep oil as an alternative fuel for oil lamps than more expensive whale oil, and invented the kerosene lamp. This was the world's first successful refining of crude oil. In 1854 he began commercial gathering of seep oil at Bóbrka, firstly in trenches then by drilling deeper wells, and in 1856 he opened an 'oil distillery', the world's first oil refinery. Drilling technologies improved and although demand for kerosene was limited to oil lamp lighting, the later invention of the internal combustion engine prompted a whole new industry of oil production which blossomed into what it is today, all thanks to an obscure Galician-Polish pharmacist whom no one had heard of - until now.

The Oil Skansen at Bóbrka was established in the 1960s to commemorate Łukasiewicz's pioneering work at the place where crude oil naturally seeped to the surface and was first 'mined'. The displays included modern oil rigs and drilling technology, but the more interesting were the earliest hand-dug wells from which crude oil was lifted in barrels. Peering down into the trough, crude oil could still be seen bubbling up and the air was heavy with the smell of oil (Photo 14 - 1854 hand-dug oil well at Bóbrka Oil Skansen). An exhibition showed displays of Łukasiewicz's kerosene lamps, his first crude oil distilling apparatus, and geological maps showing the extent of Bóbrka's oilfield and increasing depth of its wells. This was a skansen with a difference, devoted to the life and work of a remarkable man of vision and enterprise, who saw the potential of oil exploitation in the Carpathian foothills long before the demands for oil created by the internal combustion engine.

The small town of Dukla leading up to the Pass must have been totally destroyed in August 1944 as the Red Army drove back the German occupiers in the costly campaign to recapture the route into Czechoslovakia. We had passed this way 2 years ago crossing from Slovakia to stay at the delightfully straightforward farm campsite at Tylawa; we were again welcomed hospitably. Further storms threatened but the thunder-head clouds trailed by westwards, leaving us to enjoy a nostalgic nights camp at Tylawa in peace with candles twinkling on our supper table as dusk seemed to settle earlier.

Over breakfast the following morning, as the cloud at last broke for a fine day, buzzards circled and mewed overhead. We travelled eastwards through the isolated Beskid Niski foothills with not a sign of human habitation in sight. The road eventually led down to the large village of Komańcza, where the religious diversity of the Carpathian foothills region is illustrated by the village's 3 wooden churches, Eastern Orthodox, Uniate (Greek-Catholic) and Roman Catholic, all in active use. The oldest church, the Orthodox, built in 1802 was burnt to the ground in 2006 leaving just the separate bell-tower. The community had pledged to rebuild their church, the Forestry Department had donated timber, and on a hillock at the village edge building work was already well advanced. Here was a building site with a difference with wood stacks and cuttings (Photo 15 - Orthodox wooden church at Komańcza). The structure was complete, leaving the internal fitting-out and refurnishing of the re-emerging church.

At the far end of Komańcza, a side turning led to the Covent of the Nazarene Sisters where in the 1950s Cardinal Wynszyński, Catholic Primate of Poland, was detained under house arrest for his opposition to the communist regime. Nearby the in the village of Turzańsk, the Greek-Catholic wooden church of St Michael the Archangel stood on a hillock, topped with 5 graceful onion-shaped domes (Photo 16 - Greek-Catholic wooden church at Turzańsk). A service was taking place and we stood in the church porch to admire the elaborate iconostasis and listen to the sweetly sounding harmonies of the Orthodox chanting. A little further, a side valley led to the wooden Uniate church at Rzepedz, nestled into a hillside and surrounded by trees, seeming to blend into the landscape (Photo 17 - Greek-Catholic wooden church at Rzepedź). The Uniate churches we did manage to see inside showed the twin heritage of that faith with Catholic trappings such as Madonnas combined with Eastern Orthodox icons.

The onward road wound steeply over hilly country to reach the town of Lesko. As with so many other Eastern Polish towns, Lesko's pre-WW2 Jewish community made up a large part of the population. The sturdy Renaissance former synagogue, with its beautifully sculpted façade decorated with a quotation from the Torah, was badly damaged in WW2 but is now restored as a gallery. In the entrance hall, lists detailed all the Jewish communities of SE Poland destroyed by German barbarism in death camps like Bełżec and Sobibór. Set on a shady hillside nearby, we found the now sadly neglected Jewish cemetery; there are simply no survivors to look after it. The cemetery contains over 2,000 graves dating back to the 16th century, and many of those murdered at Bełżec were re-interred here. Many of the randomly scattered graves were worn and eroded with time, but the peaceful setting was a powerful and moving testimony to the 1000s of human beings systematically murdered by German genocide (Photo 18 - Jewish Cemetery at Lesko).

We needed provisions, and winding over forested hills, we descended to the scattered village of Średnia Wieś. Here we found a real treasure trove of a village general store where not only could we re-stock our food supplies (albeit more expensively than at Tesco), we could also have bought, had we needed them, Kilner preserving jars and their tops. Just beyond we joined the road to Cisna in the Bieszczady Hills. This was a truly delightful valley lined with pine-covered hills, and in each village we passed through, storks' nests topped the power poles. In the village of Zahoczewie, we counted 3 occupied nests (Photo 19 - Storks' nest at Zahoczewie near to Baligród)

The valley had not always been so peaceful. The next town of Baligród had been HQ of the Polish communist army during the 1945~7 fighting with the anti-communist Ukrainian Resistance Army (UPA) guerrillas who had been forced out of western Ukraine by the Red Army. The UPA had taken refuge in the forested Bieszczady Hills of SE Poland, and like so many anti-communists groups of that period, assumed that worsening relations between the Soviet Bloc and the West in the early days of the Cold War would ultimately lead to US-British intervention on their behalf. Sustained by this forlorn hope, the Ukrainian guerrillas fought on for some 2 years against the Soviet-armed Polish forces. The UPA were based at Cisna and the valley had been scene of some of the bloodiest fighting of this vicious war. A short distance further south, we passed the Soviet-style monolithic memorial to General Karol Świerczewski, regional commander of the Polish Army, whose assassination by the UPA in 1947 gave the newly established Polish communist government the pretext to launch Operation Vistula, one of the most pointlessly vindictive pieces of genocide which ranks with German destruction of the Jews.

The Carpathian valleys of SE Poland had long been the traditional heartland of the Boyks and Lemkos, both cultural groups descended from nomadic shepherds and cattle-herders who had settled in the Bieszczady and Beskid Niski Hills from the 15th century. Speaking dialects similar to modern Ukrainian, they led a separate life from that of lowland Poles, both groups belonging to the Orthodox or Uniate faiths. For centuries, these farming communities lived peacefully and despite their linguistic and cultural affinities with Ukrainians, they showed no interest in Ukrainian nationalistic aspirations. Their troubles began however with the UPA's assassination of General Świerczewski. Alleging that the UPA was being given support by Boyk and Lemko communities in the Bieszczady Hills, the Polish communist authorities launched an all-out attack on both the UPA and the local civilian population, and under Operation Vistula, the entire population of the region was deported, either eastwards to Soviet gulags or to former German territories in the west. Entire villages were cleared of their inhabitants and although some were repopulated by the communists with Polish settlers, many villages forcibly evacuated in 1947 have disappeared leaving the region seriously depopulated. Many former Orthodox and Uniate churches were either abandoned or handed over to the incoming Catholic Polish settlers. The results of this little known example of communist genocide can still be seen today in the depopulated region of the Bieszczady Hills where we now headed. If the image of General Świerczewski on his memorial is true to life, the war against the UPA would have been conducted with ruthless brutality. At Baligród, a war cemetery holds the remains of Polish soldiers killed in the fighting and an unsavoury inscription there reads Passer by, look at this cross - Polish soldiers raised it up, chasing fascists through forests, over mountains and rocks, for you Poland and for your glory. This was one war cemetery we could shed no tears over.

Beyond Cisna which clearly was now a busy tourist centre, the road led over a low pass into the upper Osława valley, and here at the remote village of Nowy Łupków we found the site of another notorious piece of history from the later days of the communist era: here an internment labour camp was sited in which many prominent Solidarity activists were imprisoned during the period of martial law in the early 1980s, General Jarulzelski's only answer to the Polish people's demands for social justice. We knew there was no memorial to this further example of communist repression, but turning off into the hamlet, we could see a suspicious overgrown area bristling with concrete posts topped with derelict lights; this was clearly the abandoned remains of the internment camp. Returning to Cisna, we found Camping Tramp just round from the centre, and were welcomed affably by the elderly couple who kept the campsite. She had been born in London of Polish refugee parents and her father had fought with the RAF during WW2. That evening we were invited to join others for a sing-song of traditional Polish songs around the camp-fire with roast kiełbasas (smokey sausages) (Photo 20 - Evening camp-fire at Camping Tramp, Cisna). The straightforward Camping Tramp was simply delightful.

Majdan 3kms from Cisna is home to the restored narrow gauge Bieszczadaka Kolejka Lesna (Forest Railway), built originally in 1898 to transport timber from the Bieszczady forests to the sawmills at Majdan and onward to the main line to Sanok. The railway suffered much damage in both World Wars, and re-opened in 1950 to provide timber and local passenger transport given that the remote valleys were so badly served by roads. The timber trade declined but the line is now a major tourist attraction, running east along the valley to Przystup. Such was the demand that the following day, the only seats available were for the branch running west up to the isolated halt at Balnica on the Slovak border. The line wound along the valley and began the steady climb up through the forests whose timber had formed the railway's origins. There was plenty of opportunity for photographs from the open-sided carriages as the rounded sharp bends (Photo 21 - Bieszczady Forest Railway in Osława valley).

But the following day the rain returned with heavy cloud totally obscuring the surrounding hills. In driving rain, we moved over the Wyznia Pass and down to the tiny settlement of Ustrzyki Górne, isolated in the ultimate salient of SE Poland which projects into Ukraine with an end-of-world feeling surrounded by the highest of the Bieszczady Hills. The only campsite there, operated by Polish state-run tourist organisation the PTTK, was not only water-logged after bad weather but staffed by the surliest and rudest folk ever encountered. We sat out the afternoon, and as the rain at last stopped we settled in for the gloomiest night of the trip hoping the weather would ease tomorrow. When we woke, the cloud was beginning to break; this was perhaps our one chance for a fine day on the Bieszczady Hills. Packing full rain gear, we set off from Ustrzyki Górne to climb the ridge of Połonina Caryska, one of the Bieszczady's classic high alpine pastures, forest-covered on its lower slopes but once above the tree line, opening out onto grass-covered meadows along the ridges. The route rose steeply through the trees on a well-marked and well-used path. After some 2 hours of unremitting height gain, we emerged onto the open połonina ridge with panoramic views stretching away eastwards over the totally unpopulated puszcza towards the Ukraine (Photo 22 - Połonina Caryńska alpine meadows in Bieszczady Hills). A further half hour brought us up to the ridge's high point to join other walkers gathered around the marker board (see right). From here we were able to drop down the southern side, pausing to pick bilberries, to the road at the top of the Wynzianska Pass and catch a minibus saving us a 5 km road walk back to Ustrzyki Górne. Back at camp, we shared experiences with a young Polish couple from Gdansk, Kate and Sławek, who were camped nearby; we send them our greetings and thank them for their company and help with weather forecasts at Camping Ustrzyki Górne. Dusk seemed to fall earlier now even though it was only August, and by 9-00pm it was fully dark.

Wet and fine days now seemed to alternate and the following day we were caught in a mountain storm, getting a total soaking despite gortex and over-trousers, which meant a day in camp to dry all our sodden kit (Photo 23 - Drying wet kit at Ustrzyki Górne after mountain rain). Fortunately our final day in the Bieszczady dawned fine to give us another day in the hills, walking from Wołosate, the ultimate isolated village and very last in SE Poland. No vehicles were allowed beyond the village but we hoped to take a path shown on the map leading up to a col on the Ukraine border. We set off but signs forbade both vehicular and pedestrian access on this route, a prohibition enforced by the presence of mounted border police with very business-like side arms. Another lane continued ahead which seemed open with no such restrictions, leading ultimately to the Prsel Bukowsa pass also on the Ukraine border. We took this and after 3 hours of steady and tedious height gain up through woods, the path petered out at the sign 'Granica Państwa - Przekraczanie Zabronione' (National Border - do not cross). 2 coloured posts marked the border, blue-yellow on the Ukrainian side and red-white at the Polish line, and with no border guards to deter us, we stood with one foot in each country to take our photographs, a suitable climax for this phase of the trip (Photo 24 - Polish~Ukraine border in Bieszczady Hills).

This had been a richly rewarding 2 weeks despite less good weather; we had achieved much and learned even more about this remote corner of Poland and its sad history, its people suffering both from German barbarism in WW2 and even more tragically from vicious persecution during the early communist era. Over the next two weeks, we move north along Poland's eastern border with Ukraine to see the direct evidence of this tragic recent history in the form of the surviving wooden churches left behind by the forcibly evacuated Boyk and Lemko people and visit the extermination camps of Bełżec and Sobibór, operated by the Germans from 1941~43 in their fanatical attempt to eliminate the entire Jewish population of eastern Poland; we shall conclude at Lublin, the principal city of eastern Poland. Join us again shortly.

   Sheila and Paul

   Published: 20 August 2010   

Next edition to be published in 2 weeks


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