The Polish Diaspora, 1939-55

CHILDREN OF THE DIASPORA
Zosia Hartman Biegus presenting Genera³ Anders with flowers during his visit to Northwick Park Polish hostel, England. We had no hot water in the Nissen huts (at Northwick Park), no water whatsoever. When you went on rations, (as opposed to eating in the communal kitchen), then you got a metal range to cook on in your hut. Life was hard, but people felt secure, being in the camp was a bit of stability. A number of families resisted leaving until the very last minute. Zosia Hartman Biegus b. 1943, Germany 1948-present, England	Zosia Hartman Biegus's hut at Northwick Park, as it looks today.
Northwick Park Polish Families Camp School	John Guzlowski's vaccination document, 1951 I was three and my sister was five when we traveled to the USA. My earliest memories are that my mother made me a playsuit from silk from an American parachute that she had. I also remember a convoy of army trucks going back. I have vague memories of leaving Germany, of standing in long lines waiting to being inoculated. We lived outside Buffalo, NY; my parents had been sponsored by a farmer. After they fulfilled their obligations to him they moved to Chicago and settled in a Polish area. My sister and I attended a school with a lot of Poles in it. The classes were partially in Polish and partially in English. I did not feel uncomfortable there at all but it was a different story outside the school as there was a lot of resentment against DPs from just about everybody. There was a lot of animosity. I remember a kid who called us “DPs” and began to hit us. We felt so embarrassed that we could not call out for our mother in Polish; we called to her in English but she did not understand so we were beaten up. John Guz³owski b. 1948, Germany 1951-present, USA
I remember always being very poor, having very few belongings, and always moving from place to place until we finally bought our house in Bradford, England. We were a very close family as we had no one else: no grandparents, uncles or aunts. My parents, Juliana and Józef, were very friendly with all the other Polish people they met. Many of their friends from Haydon Park went to Bradford for work so they met again later. I remember that there was resentment of Polish refugees. Occasionally my mother was called “a bloody foreigner” and, I remember, when I was about eight and simply playing out in the street, a man in a nearby house also called me this. I spoke very little English when I went to school. We were lucky that, by chance one day, my father met one of his Army friends in the local park. This man had an English wife and we lived with them for a while. Auntie Mary, as we called her, taught my mother a little English and showed her how to shop. We stayed good friends all our lives. Teresa Stolarczyk Marshall b. 1946, Germany 1947-present, England	The Wojciechowscy outside their barrack, Fairford Polish Hotel, England, 1952