Creative Writing - Feliks Skrzynecki

Powatanie, nazywam sie Feliks, JA jestem z Polska, for those who cannot speak Polish that means: Hello, my name is Feliks, I come from Poland. My story... that takes me back...

September 1st, 1939. A day etched in my mind as clear as any of my entire life, the invasion. A day of reckoning, my life changed forever...

Planes roared overhead, bombs exploded all around me tearing up the fertile land of Warsaw, smoke bellowed thick from craters and blocked out all but scattered beams of sun. A shadow of grey helmets and rifles, German soldiers, wave after wave, entering my beloved city. The cries of people and the quickened tempo of machine guns created a cacophonous melody, a berating scream upon all that was my home town.

Remembering the picture, like a mosaic, a dance of broken, gleaming fragments fell from every window as bombs shook the foundations of every building, similar to the tears cried by an old woman as she held the motionless body of a young man sprayed with crimson.

It took the Germans one week to conquer Poland, Hitler’s hand now grasped the motherland as his own, for those who survived the invasion the years of “new rule” were of no relief. A life of slavery, dictatorship and constant fighting prevailed. Amongst the death and destruction a single life emerged, my wife gave birth to our son Peter in 1945, as if by a miracle no less than a month passed and the war ended.

Four years of rebuilding in squalor led me to the decision of moving, much against my wishes I knew Warsaw will never be the same again. My family and I left for a dot on the horizon onboard a small