what could be saved.
A further distinction should be noted. The British memoranda of 1943–44, like Stalin’s territorial demands, had all referred to the permanent state frontiers which were to be put in place with international recognition at the end of the war. They should not be confused with the parallel discussions held in 1944 concerning the temporary ‘demarcation line’, which became an urgent necessity through the Red Army’s unexpectedly rapid advance. On 15 February 1944, the Premier of the exiled Government gave his consent to a demarcation line well to the east of the ‘Curzon Line’. He did so on the strict understanding that negotiations on the permanent frontier would not be jeopardized. Many of his colleagues, including the Commanderin-Chief, believed that he had made a serious tactical mistake.
On the military front, the key issue centred on what would happen when the Germans finally retreated into the Reich, in particular on how the First Ally’s Underground would conduct itself towards the incoming Red Army. No one needed to be told, of course, that the years of Nazi oppression were likely to end in some form of popular outburst. But the planners needed to know something rather more specific. What sort of rising might occur? Where would it be based? Who would lead it? And how could it be channelled to maximum effect?
Discussions about a possible Polish Rising against the Germans had been circulating in Allied circles for months if not years. Both London and Washington were well aware of what they called Poland’s ‘Secret Army’ and of its potential usefulness. But no one had brought the discussions to a resolution. So Tabor now set about recovering lost time. As soon as he took up his post in the VI Bureau in April 1944 at 13 Upper Belgrave Street he pursued these questions with great energy.
At the time, the concept preferred by the exiled Government was for a ‘general rising’ in the rural areas, which would paralyse German communications, hinder the Wehrmacht’s retreat, and speed the Red Army’s advance on a broad front. Tabor’s priority was to gain British backing for the enterprise. He had little success. In a number of preliminary talks, he was repeatedly told of the logistical difficulties, of the great distances involved, and of the Soviet sphere of influence. On 25 April, he met Churchill in the company of another officer, who had been flown toEngland with him, but the meeting was knocked off track by a heated exchange on the frontier question. When Tabor’s companion said that they would fight to the last for their rightful frontiers, Churchill responded gloomily: ‘Obviously, a decision to resist, regardless of the consequences, is the privilege of every nation, and it cannot be denied even to the weakest’. 51
Nonetheless, the British Government continued to be bombarded with queries and requests both by Tabor’s team and by other Polish officials. British doubts were expressed at a variety of meetings. They conveyed a mixture of reluctance, irritation, and indecision, but not overt opposition. The definitive British answer, which was eventually issued by the Foreign Office, was constantly delayed. It had not been received by late July, when the commander of the First Ally’s ‘Secret Army’ proposed a Rising in the immediate future and when Premier Mick’s Cabinet approved the proposal.
In those same weeks, Gen. Tabor learned of two worrying developments. One of them concerned information that a colleague in London had sent a telegram to the Underground back home advising them to eliminate Salamander. 52 The other concerned news that the British wanted to transfer the First Ally’s own Parachute Brigade to British command. Tabor was incensed by the alleged assassination plot, and protested to the Commanderin-Chief about ‘Gestapo methods’. He was much less upset about the Parachute Brigade. He advised that the British request be granted gracefully.
A further distinction should be noted. The British memoranda of 1943–44, like Stalin’s territorial demands, had all referred to the permanent state frontiers which were to be put in place with international recognition at the end of the war. They should not be confused with the parallel discussions held in 1944 concerning the temporary ‘demarcation line’, which became an urgent necessity through the Red Army’s unexpectedly rapid advance. On 15 February 1944, the Premier of the exiled Government gave his consent to a demarcation line well to the east of the ‘Curzon Line’. He did so on the strict understanding that negotiations on the permanent frontier would not be jeopardized. Many of his colleagues, including the Commanderin-Chief, believed that he had made a serious tactical mistake.
On the military front, the key issue centred on what would happen when the Germans finally retreated into the Reich, in particular on how the First Ally’s Underground would conduct itself towards the incoming Red Army. No one needed to be told, of course, that the years of Nazi oppression were likely to end in some form of popular outburst. But the planners needed to know something rather more specific. What sort of rising might occur? Where would it be based? Who would lead it? And how could it be channelled to maximum effect?
Discussions about a possible Polish Rising against the Germans had been circulating in Allied circles for months if not years. Both London and Washington were well aware of what they called Poland’s ‘Secret Army’ and of its potential usefulness. But no one had brought the discussions to a resolution. So Tabor now set about recovering lost time. As soon as he took up his post in the VI Bureau in April 1944 at 13 Upper Belgrave Street he pursued these questions with great energy.
At the time, the concept preferred by the exiled Government was for a ‘general rising’ in the rural areas, which would paralyse German communications, hinder the Wehrmacht’s retreat, and speed the Red Army’s advance on a broad front. Tabor’s priority was to gain British backing for the enterprise. He had little success. In a number of preliminary talks, he was repeatedly told of the logistical difficulties, of the great distances involved, and of the Soviet sphere of influence. On 25 April, he met Churchill in the company of another officer, who had been flown toEngland with him, but the meeting was knocked off track by a heated exchange on the frontier question. When Tabor’s companion said that they would fight to the last for their rightful frontiers, Churchill responded gloomily: ‘Obviously, a decision to resist, regardless of the consequences, is the privilege of every nation, and it cannot be denied even to the weakest’. 51
Nonetheless, the British Government continued to be bombarded with queries and requests both by Tabor’s team and by other Polish officials. British doubts were expressed at a variety of meetings. They conveyed a mixture of reluctance, irritation, and indecision, but not overt opposition. The definitive British answer, which was eventually issued by the Foreign Office, was constantly delayed. It had not been received by late July, when the commander of the First Ally’s ‘Secret Army’ proposed a Rising in the immediate future and when Premier Mick’s Cabinet approved the proposal.
In those same weeks, Gen. Tabor learned of two worrying developments. One of them concerned information that a colleague in London had sent a telegram to the Underground back home advising them to eliminate Salamander. 52 The other concerned news that the British wanted to transfer the First Ally’s own Parachute Brigade to British command. Tabor was incensed by the alleged assassination plot, and protested to the Commanderin-Chief about ‘Gestapo methods’. He was much less upset about the Parachute Brigade. He advised that the British request be granted gracefully.
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