Rising '44: The Battle for Warsaw (107 page)

Certainly, as almost all historians would agree, grave mistakes were made. The list of miscalculations committed by the instigators of the Rising was a long one. The disunited leaders of the exiled Government in London, for example, gave their subordinates in Warsaw carte blanche over the final order, thereby losing control of developments. The military and political leaders in Warsaw, who launched the final order, undoubtedly erred in some aspects of the timing. The choice of 5 p.m. as ‘L-Hour’ caused much confusion, and reduced the number of objectives which could be gained in the first surprise attacks. Thanks to the earlier policy of removing weapons from Warsaw, they sent the Home Army into battle amidst a dramatic shortage of weapons. Coordination with the Western Powers was weak, and with the Soviet Union virtually non-existent. On the political front, the Home Army indulged in a serious gamble that didn’t pay off. They aimed to take hold of the capital, to protect the civilian population from a possible act of German barbarism, and to take charge of the city prior to the Soviet Army’s arrival. Instead, they did not take definitive control: the Germans did not leave; up to 200,000 people lost their lives and the Soviet Army never arrived.

The odd thing is, however, that Polish critics train their accusations almost exclusively on Polish faults. All too often the debate has been reduced to an unseemly barrage of recriminations between rival Polish factions. All too often, it has been forgotten that the insurgents of 1944 were not in the same position as their predecessors of 1794, 1830–31, or 1863, who fought a lone battle against the national enemy. The Home Army fighters were part of an international Allied coalition that was committed to fighting the enemy in unison; and it is the workings of the coalition that need to be examined most closely.

In the circumstances, therefore, it is essential to formulate a number of more precise lines of enquiry, and hence to establish a more equitable division of responsibility. Three questions in particular present themselves. One, given the information available on 31 July, is whether the risk taken by the Rising’s authors was reasonable; the second is whether the early mistakes were critical to the Rising’s eventual failure; and the third question would be why the various members of the Allied Coalition failed to participate effectively.

On the first point, it is all too easy to blame the Rising’s authors for things which they could not possibly have known for certain in advance. In retrospect, for example, it became evident that two key decisions had been separately taken on 28 July without the knowledge of other affected
parties. On 28 July, the Soviet
Stavka
ordered Rokossovsky to occupy the whole line of the Vistula by 2 August at the latest. This would seem to indicate that the AK Command were perfectly correct in launching the Rising exactly one day before the Soviet Army’s expected arrival. Yet also on 28 July, unbeknown either to the Soviets or to the Poles, the command of the German Army Group Centre decided to commit an unusually large part of its strongest reserves to the Vistula sector. This was the reason why the plans both of Rokossovsky and of the Home Army went awry. It was something which Clausewitz would have called ‘the fog of war’ and which could not have been easily predicted. What is more it did not cause the Rising to collapse. So it can’t be invoked as proof of the Home Army’s incompetence or foolhardiness.

Similarly, on the diplomatic front, it was unfortunate for the Home Army that the Rising was launched before the Premier had discussed the matter with Stalin. It would have been much more satisfactory if the attempt to reach a Polish–Soviet agreement had taken place earlier. Yet one cannot pretend that this in itself was the cause of the ensuing impasse. Neither Gen. Boor nor Premier Mick could have foreseen that the diplomatic problems – for which they were not responsible – would have turned into such an insuperable obstacle. After all, they firmly believed that they had the full support of the Western allies, and that Western support would prevent Stalin from cutting up rough. They were perfectly aware that they were taking a risk. But given what Churchill and Roosevelt had assured them, they had good grounds to feel that they were not taking a wild gamble.

For obvious reasons, the massive death-toll among civilians is a specially painful issue. Critics often hold the Rising’s leaders personally responsible. However, it is all too easy to be wise after the event. The Rising’s leaders were not indifferent to the fate of civilians. But they were also alive to the dangers of doing nothing either if the Germans evacuated the city or turned it into a frontline fortress. The London Blitz would not have occurred if Churchill had not insisted on fighting Germany. But Churchill is rarely blamed for the Blitz.

With regard to the various mistakes and misjudgements which the Home Army Command undoubtedly made, it is essential to identify the precise consequences. And in reality, though serious, the consequences, were not catastrophic. The premature launch, for instance, did not cause the collapse of the Rising, which continued for ten or twenty times longer than originally expected. Thanks to the policy of ‘One bullet, one German’,
the ammunition shortage never led to a halt in the firing. Most importantly, the sum total of Home Army misjudgements did not rule out the key junction between the insurgents and Soviet forces. The junction, though much delayed, did take place. The fact that it was subsequently allowed to wither was not the insurgents’ fault.

Everything points to the contention, therefore, that the workings of the Allied Coalition were decisive to the catastrophe. In which case, historians should stop grubbing around in the minutiae of Polish affairs, and should try to examine the broader picture. The Warsaw Rising occupied just one square on a much vaster chessboard. The roots of the tragedy will never be uncovered until the conduct of the major players is examined with the same rigour that has heretofore been reserved for the minor actors. Close attention must be given to the interrelation of the Warsaw Rising with the divergent priorities within the Grand Alliance as a whole.

For a start, historians must also take a critical look at the convention whereby the ‘Big Three’ arrogated all key discussions to themselves. The convention was just as alive in the 1940s as it had been at the Congress of Vienna or the Congress of Berlin; and it had its advantages. Yet it also had its obligations. One may assume, for example, that if the Big Three were to make all the strategic decisions, they were nonetheless obliged to keep their allies fully informed. Critics of the Rising come out with phrases such as ‘disregard for the requirements of the international situation’. But they rarely enquire into what was meant by ‘the requirements’. In Communist culture, the prime requirement was deference to the Soviet Union, and hence the unquestioning acceptance by all Moscow’s clients of all Moscow’s judgements. Democratic culture, in contrast, requires a much higher degree of trust, a much higher level of shared information, and much closer attention to joint consultation and coordination. It may well be that the Varsovians fell foul not only of a clash between these two political cultures within the Grand Alliance, but also of malfunctions within the Western part of the Alliance.

The absence of effective military and political coordination was manifest on all sides throughout the duration of the Rising. The Home Army never found the means to coordinate its moves with the Soviet Army. The exiled Government in London did not coordinate well with the British and Americans. The British and Americans did not manage to coordinate their dealings with Moscow. Indeed, Churchill and Roosevelt did not always coordinate well with each other. And the Soviets usually
did not see fit to coordinate their actions with anyone. There is no reason whatsoever why the Poles should take the sole rap for these failings.

Many historians have taken the line that the political underpinning of the Rising had not been properly prepared. ‘Without immediate assistance coming from the Western Allies and the Soviet Union,’ wrote Professor Karski, ‘the uprising never had any chance of success. That assistance had not been secured before orders for the rising were given.’
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It is a damning accusation, which, on the face of it, looks unassailable. For, as is absolutely undeniable, no cast-iron promise of assistance had been obtained beforehand.

Yet surely, such statements, though correct, do not tell the whole story. One could equally say, with equal documentary proof, that the Allied Powers had been properly informed about a probable Rising in Poland and that they had done nothing either to forbid it or to facilitate it. Indeed, when the Western Chiefs of Staff were briefed in June 1944, they gave a very strong impression of approving the Polish Premier’s intentions which they knew to include both a Rising and a plan for coordination with Moscow. For its part, the Soviet Union gave specific orders to its state-controlled media to encourage the Rising to take place. It deliberately led all Varsovians to believe that the Soviet Government would view a Rising favourably. So the failure to secure detailed promises of assistance in advance was not the critical issue. Such promises were desirable, and might well have been secured if the Western Allies had approached the Soviet Union more energetically and in better time. But their absence did not mean that no assistance could ever have been rendered. War is full of surprises. Cockups, confusion, and misunderstandings are commonplace, even in the most distinguished of armies. In coalitions and multinational alliances, they are entirely predictable, not to say tiresomely routine. Yet, given goodwill, they can be rectified.

The critical issue at Warsaw, therefore, is not that misunderstandings over Allied assistance arose. It is that despite two months, when remedial action could have been taken, no interAllied consensus was reached. Here historians are swimming in much deeper and murkier waters than the failings of the exiled Polish Government or of the Polish Underground, and they have every right to present a whole series of new questions. Why, for instance, if London and Washington were expecting a Rising to take place, did they not approach Moscow well in advance and obtain the necessary assurances for their isolated Polish ally? Or why, since Moscow
clearly anticipated a Rising in the capital of an ally of the Western powers, did the Soviet authorities not attempt either to discuss the matter with Western leaders or even to reach a local agreement? These questions require fuller discussion. But one cardinal conclusion can be made without further ado: the tragedy of the Warsaw Rising cannot be attributed solely to local mistakes.

For five weeks, from late August to early October 1944, Rokossovsky’s First Byelorussian Front was close enough to Warsaw not only to render intensive assistance but also, if orders had been given, to effect a rescue. For two weeks at the end of September, a limited force from one of Rokossovsky’s five armies was actively engaged. Yet orders for a renewed offensive on the Vistula were not given. In this light, historians should stop repeating the explanations that were given for Soviet inaction in early August, and should concentrate their enquiries on the period when Soviet action was eminently possible. They would then stress the analysis made by the German Ninth Army, which was on the spot and which was expecting Rokossovsky to advance at any moment; and they would soon reach the conclusion that the reasons for Soviet passivity were very largely political.

Given the existence of the coalition, however, the politics of the Rising cannot be reduced to the actions, or inaction, of one single party. One has to analyse the problem in the round, and to observe the interactions of all interested parties. Indeed, one has a duty to examine both what the coalition did and what it failed to do.

The answer on the first score is that the ‘Big Three’ addressed the Warsaw crisis through a series of totally uncoordinated initiatives and of ill-tempered exchanges. The Western Powers arranged for Premier Mick to go to Moscow, but then left their unsupported client at Stalin’s mercy. When that key meeting bore no fruit, they protested against Soviet obstructionism; but they showed no urgency whatsoever in bringing the negotiations back on track. The Western leaders had no coherent strategy for dealing with Stalin, or for easing the path for their Polish ally.
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On the diplomatic front in particular, they produced no initiative, no common plan on how to proceed, no sign of a willingness to protect their ally from Moscow’s manifest malevolence. Though they insisted that Germany recognize the Home Army as a legitimate combatant force, they never once thought of asking the Soviets to do the same.

Ideally, of course, any interAllied scheme concerning Poland should have been finalized long before the Rising broke out. Almost nine months had passed between November 1943, when the ‘Big Three’ first discussed Poland at Teheran, and L-Hour on 1 August 1944. Even so, time had not run out. A further six weeks were available for interAllied consultations. Premier Mick returned empty-handed from Moscow in mid-August and the insurgents’ capitulation did not occur until October. Given due energy, one might be forgiven for thinking that much might still have been accomplished. In the event, the Polish Premier was not given another chance to visit the Kremlin until 10 October. By that time, the Rising had been crushed: the Home Army was broken: and the dice were loaded far more heavily against an agreed solution. Everything considered, the coalition performed feebly and sluggishly. One is tempted to conclude that the insurgents had fulfilled their duty ten times over; the Allied politicians did not fulfil theirs.

Much can now be said about Soviet policy with certainty. Stalin took an extremely ruthless and unbending stance from the minute that the advance into Poland beckoned in the winter of 1943–44. He set his eyes on half the country’s territory and on a radical reconstruction of the Government. He installed a committee of puppets; and he ordered the elimination of all agents and soldiers loyal to the legal authorities. After the outbreak of the Rising, he rejected Rokossovsky’s plan for the liberation of Warsaw, obstructed Western efforts to send aid, diverted the main Soviet offensive into the Balkans, and approved only half-hearted and much-belated measures of assistance. Once the central sector of the Vistula Front had recovered from the German counterattack, he held Rokossovsky back in an essentially defensive mode. One can only describe this attitude as callous.