Buried Eagles
Early last month, Maciej Podgórski from Zamość, a Polish collector and relic hunter, found something precious that had been lost for over 85 years.
It was in late September 1939 that the battered remnants of the combined Polish Kraków Army and Lublin Army under General Tadeusz Piskor, having fought for three weeks straight and unable to break out of its incirclement, laid down their arms near Tomaszów Lubelski to surrender to either the Germans or the incoming Soviet Red Army, which had come as “friends” to help repel the German invasion.
Two officers of the elite 4th Podhale Rifle Regiment, 21st Mountain Infantry Division (4 Pułku Strzelców Podhalańskich, 21 Dywizji Piechoty Górskiej), paymaster Capt. Władysław Kronhold and quartermaster Capt. Szczepan Orłowski, decided their flag would not fall into enemy hands.
A precious banner handcrafted by the Felician nuns in the convent of Czchowice-Dziedzice, it was hand-sewn with gold and silver thread, presented to the unit in 1924.
The return of the Inspector General of the Polish Armed Forces, General Edward Rydz-Śmigły, after an official visit to France. Rydz-Śmigły receives a report from an officer of the 4th Podhale Rifle Regiment on the platform of the Zebrzydowice station. General Janusz Głuchowski is visible next to him, the regiment’s standard in the foreground; September 1936. Koncern Ilustrowany Kurier Codzienny – Illustration Archive. Reference number: 1-D-576-4
Quickly removed from its staff, the regimental flag and a championship marksmanship pennant of the 21st Mountain Infantry Division were folded, tightly packed inside of waterproofed canvas rucksack, and further wrapped in oilskin tarpaulin. Then the package was buried near a forester’s lodge, on the Krasnobród-Tomaszów Lubelski road in the Roztocze forest. A waypoint to find the flag under better conditions was a bayonet stuck into the ground to its hilt near the road
The two captains were soon taken prisoner by the Germans and thrown into what became Oflag XI B Braunschweig with over 1,200 other Polish officers. They were later moved in 1940 to Oflag II C Woldenberg, which ultimately held over 6,000.
They were the lucky ones. Podhale riflemen had a tough war after the Polish campaign, with over 40 of their officers who fell into Russian hands liquidated in the Katyn Massacre. Another 73 of its members were burned alive in a barn by the Germans post-surrender.
Fast forward to the 1950s, and both Kronhold and Orłowski, surviving the war and returning to Poland, searched for their unit’s flag but could not find it, ultimately giving up and assuming the Germans had uncovered it. The officers left written directions on how to find the banners for future generations.
That’s where Podgorski, knowing of the legendary buried battle flags, grew excited when he found a bayonet stuck into the ground to its hilt near the old forest road. By careful process of elimination and probe work, he found bits of an old tarpaulin and got to digging.
Boom:
The banners are currently under the care of the Janusz Peter Regional Museum and will eventually be stabilized and placed on public display.
An amazing story of defeat, murder, and recovery. I doubt if I would’ve been able to read this story in English anywhere else. Thank you!
Indeed. It is amazing that they made it. As a side, can you imagine those relic hunters in that part of the world? In the same plot you might find Soviet stuff from 1945, German left overs from 1939, more German left overs from 1915, French leftovers from 1812, etc., et, al.
Which is why in archaeology circles the “pot hunters” and similar are so reviled. They can go through a site and jumble hundreds, if not thousands, of years of artifacts into a useless mess that is like the spring church jumble sale. Way to go, guys.