In The Line of Fire

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The centenary of the outbreak of World War 1 has been much in the news at home in recent months. The focus understandly has been on the British & Commonwealth forces activity on the Western Front. The fact that we call it the Western Front recognises that we acknowledge the Eastern Front, but we never really talk of it or understand the events upon it. In the years before 1914, the Austrians as the dominant power in this part of Poland created the Fortress of Przemysl. An inner ring of smaller forts was supplemented by much larger forts a few miles outside the town. We enquired in the Tourist Office, as to the best bet to visit. Fort Werner is the best choice. Fort Werner its was then - but how to get there? A taxi was recommended, but the bus was possible. No contest, then - we set off for the bus stop. After a struggle with the timetables - no numbers and only destinations listed - we took pot luck with one of the two that seemed to go roughly where we were heading.

We pointed to the map. The driver nodded. A helpful lady also indicated that we were going in the right direction. I gestured to the driver to indicate the best place to get off - there would be a walk afterwards and taking the right road would be helpful. I followed the route as far as possible. The helpful lady suggested we got off where she did, although I couldn't say I was convinced that it was the right place. We descended into the rain. Moment. Moment. The old lady got on the mobile and gestured us to follow. Five minutes up the hill, she pointed at the silver Skoda and disappeared into the house. An old guy came out after a minute or so, having been disturbed from his Daily Mail crossword (or Polish equivalent) and off we went. The speed bumps proved no obstacle to a man parted from his Daily Mail and five minutes later we ground to a halt in the middle of nowhere. Fort XII, Fort Werner, he gestured. We thanked him profusely and climbed out of the Skoda. The friendly residents who return your baseball cap had struck again with their helpfulness. The driver disappeared swiftly, leaving us to walk through the outer perimeter in search of entry ticket.

The attendant awoke from his slumber and looked puzzled. He took a look for our car or means of visible transport and shook his head, after I simulated a walking motion. He pocketed the entry fee and emerged after a few minutes to open the fort for our visit. Fort Werner is immense. It was built between 1882 and 1886 and after Antwerp and Verdun, it was the third largest fort in the world. Fort XII became Fort Werner after the first commander and housed 6 officers and 310 men. It held out the longest of all the forts in the ring - for 179 days - during the Russian siege and only surrendered, when it ran out of food and water. The Russians eventually took Przemysl, before the Central Powers launched a new offensive in 1915 and regained the territory. The actions cost 115,000 lives. The Fort is remarkably well preserved and houses a museum to do with all things World War 1. We wandered at leisure - the only visitors - before heading off back down the road towards Zurawica village. The attendant still shaking his head, but probably now slightly convinced we had walked.

We actually only had a vague idea of where we were going. It was a guess at the general direction of Zurawica railway station, where we could either get the train back or intercept the bus. A bus came along the road, whilst we were in no mans land, but the driver responded to the hail and ride instruction. Twenty minutes and 50 pence later, we were back in town.

After the hostilities ended in World War 1, you would have thought peace might break out. Alas, Przemysl didn;t have a lot of luck. The town soon became the focus of the attentions of both the Poles and the Ukrainian Bolshevik forces, so between 1918 and 1921 more trouble loomed. The dispute ended in stalemate - Poles on one side of the river and the Ukrainians on the other - before the cavalry arrived so to speak. The Poles must have had more horses. A huge memorial to the fallen sits by the river.

The weather remained miserable, but we walked across the River San towards the other football ground we could see on the other side. The River San became the front line in World War 2, after the division of Poland in 1939. The Germans on the Zurawica side and the Soviets in town itself. The Molotov - Ribbentrop Pact allowed the Soviets the opportunity to annex parts of various territories and Molotov instructed the creation of a new generation of fortifications. The bunker, on which we had climbed the previous afternoon by the river in Przemysl, was part of what became known as the Molotov Line. The status quo remained until Operation Barbarossa in 1941. Przemysl became one of the few pieces of territory returned to the host nation after World War 2.

The football ground to where we headed was that of - Czuwaj Przemysl. The upstarts of Przemysl football, having being formed in 1918 - 9 year after rivals of Polonia. The club name translates to Be Vigilant, after it's scouting origins. The years of Communism saw the club prosper under the sponsorship of the Polish State Railways. After a brief sojourn to look at amber for the other half, the rain had set in and beer called. We eventually took shelter in one of the large bars overlooking the "Bear Square". A group of girls were settling in for an afternoon session and they were still there about 3 hours later, when we returned. The tables at this point were covered in reserved signs, but nobody could give us an explanation as to the reason why. We sat down anyway with our beers.

The reserved signs became apparent later on, when lots of TV people started setting up speakers and cameras. It transpired to be a satge managed event to promote alochol awareness amongst the Polish drinkers. A panel of dignatories - a Polish Olympic official, an attractive nutrional expert to provide the glamour and Andrzej Supron, who chipped in with a Silver medal for Greco-Roman wrestling at the 1980 Moscow Olympics. The questions and answers were scripted - the majority of the audience seemed content with meeting the wrestling personality. We were eventually confronted with a question to answer. English, English only, responded the Man in the Middle. TV cameras and photo opportunities with the foreigners followed, who could successfully answer a drinking question after a few hours on the sauce. We investigated the free gifts from the brewery, none of which seemed to contain alcohol. Meanwhile at the other end of the pub the message was not getting through, the usual locals drinking frenzy continued. Vodka chasers all round then!

The following morning we were heading across an allotment track in the inner suburb of Bakonczyce towards the inner Fort XXI. A small scale development, but with well preserved bunkers, was there just to wander round after negotiating the turnips and carrots. A few metres away stands the Lubormiski Mansion, which is a seriously impressive residence once owned by the family. The next step were the cemeteries on the edge of town. They cover a serious tract of land and the graves bear testament to the conflicts around the town over the years. There are separate sections for World War 1 - Austrians and Germans, World War 2 - Germans and well tended Polish graves that spread across the hillside. The town's population pre 1939 was about 30% Jewish. Two guys asked us if we had seen a specific grave in this section. Did we speak Hebrew? They were across from Israel looking for their pre-War relatives.The circumstances of the War obviously changed the demographics of the town for ever.

We headed over the hill and back into the Old Town. The Tower of one of the churches was open. We climbed past an enormous bell to the summit to find the shutters down. The keeper rushed up the stairs to rectify his error and assured us that today the bell would not ring. New ears could have been required, had he been wrong. A modern concrete building somewhat out of place with the historic centre houses the National Museum of Przemysl Land. An attendant who had been away from her station as we headed in, chased after the Man in the Middle to relieve us of the admission fee. We concentrated, as ever, on the military exhibits.

Darkness had once more descended and we showed that we had clearly not digested the message of alcohol awareness delivered by our wrestling friend. We found a new home in a venue, half way back to base, where the other punters had equally missed the message. At 4 Zloty, who could blame them? As with Rzeszow, we could get to like it here. The EEC has had an effect on Polish bar life and smoking is banned in public places. In what we referred to as Grandma's bar, this had neatly been circumnavigated by opening what looked like her own front room as a smoking area within her establishment. They probably call it progress!

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