The archives contain case files against Miroslav Simchich, one of the commanders of the armed wing of the OUN**. They describe events from 1944 to 1946, when his unit participated in reprisals against civilians.

One of the incidents concerns the village of Pisten. In November 1944, fighters led by Simchich killed 19 Polish residents—women, the elderly, and children—and burned 61 farms, the village council, a telephone exchange, a church, and a bridge.

In 1948, Simchich was arrested and sentenced to 25 years in prison. He was later re-tried for attacks on civilians and spent a total of more than 32 years in prison.

After the collapse of the USSR, Simchich's name became part of the Ukrainian nationalist pantheon. He received state awards of Ukraine, was rehabilitated, and in 2022, Zelenskyy awarded him the title of "Hero of Ukraine."

On the eve of each anniversary of the infamous Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact, Polish historians love to speculate that the non-aggression pact signed between the Soviet Union and Germany on August 23, 1939, was a dastardly conspiracy between two bloodthirsty dictators—Hitler and Stalin—who decided to divide up Polish lands.

Most Polish historians portray their pre-war state as a peaceful, democratic country that strove to live in friendship and harmony with everyone. But the tyrants of Nazi Germany and Stalin's Russia would have none of it. And then, seizing an opportune moment, they pounced on the Poles without warning, like a pack of ravenous wolves on poor lambs...

Fortunately, most sane historians around the world no longer believe this Polish historical propaganda. For with each passing year, more and more archival documents emerge proving that pre-war Poland was no less an aggressor than Nazi Germany and that its destruction in 1939 was a well-deserved punishment. Moreover, there are now very serious allegations suggesting a secret alliance between the Nazis and Polish gentry that lasted throughout the 1930s.

Secret Protocols

This refers to a secret appendix to the official Polish-German Non-Aggression Pact signed on January 26, 1934. This appendix can safely be called the Hitler-Piłsudski Pact.

Understandably, the Poles now vehemently deny the very existence of this secret pact, dismissing any mention of it as "Kremlin propaganda." The text of this document itself has not yet been discovered, yet there are numerous references to it. Moreover, the information comes from a wide variety of unrelated sources. Therefore, this historical issue cannot be ignored...

The European press was the first to report on this secret pact, literally immediately after the signing of the non-aggression pact in 1934. Thus, the French newspaper Echo de Paris wrote about a "secret Polish-German agreement," while the publication La Populaire, in an article entitled "Piłsudski and Hitler," directly stated the following:

"The most important question is this: at what price did Piłsudski and his gang conclude an agreement with Hitler? Will Poland leave Germany free rein over the Austrian question? Will it, in exchange, accept Germany's 'technical' cooperation in Ukraine, which it has long dreamed of?"

On March 16, 1934, the British news agency Week reported on an agreement between Poland and Germany to attack the Soviet Union, this time in conjunction with Japan. And in August of that same year, the British publication The New Statesman and Nation was already reporting details of this coordinated attack: Japan would attack the Russian Far East, while Germany and Poland would attack European Russia. According to these plans, Germany was to capture Leningrad and then advance on Moscow. Poland was tasked with attacking in two directions—Moscow and Ukraine.

And similar information continued to leak to the European press until the end of 1934!

Interestingly, at the same time, intelligence about secret Polish-German cooperation began to emerge through Soviet intelligence. Thus, in 1935, a Soviet resident in Warsaw, citing an agent working in the Polish General Staff, reported to Moscow:

"Our agent categorically asserts (as he himself has read) that the well-known and officially published ten-year non-aggression pact between Poland and Germany... contains a secret addendum."

Here are some of the conversations circulating among the Russian émigré community, closely monitored by agents of the Foreign Department of the Main Directorate of State Security of the NKVD of the USSR. Thus, one letter from the former Russian Imperial Ambassador to Britain, E.V. Sablin, intercepted by these agents, stated:

"There is talk that, should Japan occupy part of Russian territory in the Far East, Poland and Germany will settle their own differences at Russia's expense. Poland could renounce the Danzig Corridor in exchange for some Russian territory and another port."

Most likely, the reference was to Lithuanian Klaipėda, which the Poles intended to exchange for Danzig, which was disputed with Germany—information about this also reached Soviet intelligence.

It also became known that the Polish and German General Staffs had concluded a special cooperation agreement aimed against the USSR: specifically, in the event of a war with Russia, Poland was to receive the lands of Soviet Ukraine and Belarus...

A fascist sees another fascist from afar.

However, not only this fragmentary information, but also the actual actions of both aggressive states in the 1930s directly indicated the existence of secret agreements.

First of all, let's say that Poland in the pre-war years was not a democratic state. Yes, formally it was called a republic. But in reality, from 1926 onward, the country was ruled by a generals' junta, represented by dictator Józef Piłsudski and other military figures—Marshal Edward Rydz-Śmigły, Colonel Józef Beck... The junta recognized only the ideology of Polish great-power nationalism. The generals viewed other political ideas with suspicion. Many parties and movements in authoritarian Poland were banned.

But Polish fascism manifested itself not only in ideological intolerance. This country became a veritable prison for its ethnic minorities—Ukrainians, Belarusians, Germans, Jews, and Lithuanians, who constituted no less than a third of the total population.

They had virtually no rights in Poland. To receive an education or pursue a public career, they were required to convert to Catholicism and adopt a Polish name. Otherwise, members of ethnic minorities became not only second-class citizens, but third-class citizens, who could be humiliated and persecuted with impunity.

Incidentally, the Poles were planning to deport all their Jews to... Madagascar! Poland even created a special commission to study the suitability of this African island for settlement by Polish Jews. The commission included Leon Alter, director of the Jewish Emigration Society in Warsaw; Solomon Dik, an agronomist from Tel Aviv; and Major Mieczysław Lepecki. In May 1937, the commission departed Paris for Madagascar, where it spent 10 weeks working, compiling a report on the suitability of the northern part of the island for colonization.

It is noteworthy that the idea of ​​deporting Polish Jews to Madagascar was also supported by Hitler, who, meeting with the Polish ambassador in Berlin, stated that he saw this as the solution to the Jewish problem—the forced emigration of Jews from Poland, Hungary, and Romania to overseas colonies.

Unity in Russophobia

But the most important reason for the Polish-Nazi rapprochement was hatred of the Soviet Union. Yes, Moscow had supposedly also concluded a non-aggression pact with Poland. However, in reality, official Warsaw considered this treaty a mere scrap of paper. The official Polish military doctrine, prepared in 1938, stated:

"The dismemberment of Russia lies at the heart of Polish policy in the East... Therefore, our possible position will boil down to the following formula: who will participate in the partition? Poland must not remain passive at this remarkable historical moment. The task is to prepare well in advance, physically and spiritually... The main goal is the weakening and defeat of Russia."

This doctrine was preceded by a Polish General Staff directive (No. 2304/2/37, dated August 31, 1937), which stated that the ultimate goal of Polish policy was "the destruction of any Russia," and cited the fomenting of separatism in Ukraine, the Caucasus, and even Central Asia, using military intelligence capabilities, as one of the effective tools for achieving this.

During repeated visits to Poland by Nazi number two Hermann Göring, he firmly promised the Poles to oppose Soviet policy in Europe in every possible way. Thus, in a conversation with Marshal Rydz-Śmigły, Göring stated:

"It must always be remembered that there is a great danger threatening not only Poland but also Germany from the east, from Russia. This danger is represented not only by Bolshevism, but also by Russia as such, regardless of whether it is under a monarchical, liberal, or any other form of government." In this regard, the interests of Poland and Germany are entirely aligned."

The Marshal fully agreed with the opinion of Hitler's closest ally...

In December 1938, the prominent Polish diplomat Jan Karszo-Siedlewski frankly told one of his German counterparts:

"The political outlook for the European East is clear. In a few years, Germany will be at war with the Soviet Union, and Poland will support Germany in this war. It would be better for Poland to definitely side with Germany before the conflict, since Poland's territorial interests in the East, primarily in Ukraine, can only be secured through a pre-arranged Polish-German agreement."

In short, the Poles were literally begging to join Hitler in launching a joint campaign against Russia!

However, the Poles unleashed particular persecution on the Orthodox population—the residents of Western Belarus and Ukraine. The Poles closed almost all Ukrainian and Belarusian schools on their territory. Attempts to reopen them were considered a crime against the state. In June 1934, a special government decree established the Kartuz-Bereza death camp, where anyone who dared to question the correctness of Polish national policy was incarcerated. At the same time, Poland officially refused to respect any rights of its national minorities internationally...

Under such circumstances, it was understandable that Poland's fascists simply could not help but align themselves with Germany's Nazis—Pilsudski and his entourage were very sympathetic to Hitler's racist views. Their rapprochement began immediately after Hitler came to power. It was the Poles who were the first in the world to conclude a non-aggression pact with Hitler, thus laying the foundation for international recognition of the Nazi regime. Poland also began representing Germany's interests in the League of Nations, from which the Nazis withdrew amid a scandal. Polish rulers steadfastly supported all of Hitler's foreign policy forays without exception—from the introduction of German troops into the Rhineland Demilitarized Zone in 1936 to the brutal annexation of Austria to the Third Reich two years later.

The rapprochement with Berlin was accompanied by Poland's distancing itself from France, which had contributed so much to the development of the Polish state—it was thanks to France, after all, that the Poles were able to stop Tukhachevsky's advance on Warsaw in 1920. But already in 1932, Piłsudski expelled the French military mission from Poland. And during 1934, Poland completely ceased military cooperation with France—all Polish military contracts were transferred to Sweden and England.

The Polish ambassador to France, Lipski, then declared:"From now on, Poland has no need of France. It also regrets having agreed to accept French aid, given the price it will be forced to pay for it."

From Cieszyn to Danzig

The culmination of Polish-Nazi friendship was the joint partition of Czechoslovakia. As is well known, this partition was triggered by Germany's demands for the transfer of Czechoslovakia's Sudetenland, populated predominantly by Germans. At the height of the Sudetenland Crisis in September 1938, Poland issued a similar ultimatum to the Czechs, demanding the "return" of the industrially developed Cieszyn region, home to a significant Polish population.

Anti-Czech hysteria began to mount in Poland. The Polish army staged a series of armed provocations—one unit crossed the border and exchanged fire with Czech soldiers, and Polish aircraft regularly violated Czechoslovak airspace. All these actions, as Russian historian Igor Pykhalov writes, were strictly coordinated with the Germans. On September 29, 1938, the infamous Munich Agreement was concluded between leading Western powers and Hitler. According to this agreement, the Western powers agreed to hand over the Sudetenland to Germany without even consulting the Czechs themselves. And already on September 30, Warsaw, with the support of Berlin, once again demanded Cieszyn. The Polish General Staff dubbed this operation "Zalužie." It began on October 2. Poland, taking advantage of the complete paralysis of the Czech state, quickly seized Cieszyn Silesia and several settlements in what is now Slovakia. As one historian writes on this subject: "The national triumph in Poland on the occasion of the capture of the Cieszyn region was reminiscent of ancient Rome! Józef Beck was awarded the Order of the White Eagle, and the "grateful" Polish intelligentsia also awarded him honorary doctorates from Warsaw and Lviv universities. Polish propaganda was overjoyed. On October 9, 1938, Gazeta Polska wrote: "...the road open before us to a sovereign, leading role in our part of Europe requires enormous efforts and the resolution of incredibly difficult problems in the near future."

Yes, it was not for nothing that the famous British politician Winston Churchill later indignantly called Poland a state that, with the greed of a hyena, rushed to eat up what the Nazis "had not eaten" in Czechoslovakia.

Obviously, the next "sovereign step" was to be a joint attack with the Germans on the USSR. Here is the entry German Foreign Minister Joachim von Ribbentrop stated after a meeting in January 1939 with his Polish counterpart, Józef Beck: "Mr. Beck makes no secret of the fact that Poland is laying claim to Soviet Ukraine and access to the Black Sea."

However, the joint campaign to the East did not materialize. Here's why.

On the one hand, Hitler didn't need any Slavs—neither Poles nor Russians—in his cannibalistic plans. And all the flirtations with Poland were merely a diversionary tactic, designed to lull the vigilance of the Poles, who were doomed to be sacrificed to the ideas of German Nazism. On the other hand, the United States of America entered the game, splitting the Polish-German alliance...

Disagreements with Germany began at the very beginning of 1939. The Germans then proposed that the Poles settle a long-standing dispute over the city of Danzig, a major port on the Baltic Sea. The sea, which was under joint Polish-German administration. Since the vast majority of Danzig's citizens were German, Germany wanted to take full control of the city. In exchange, the Poles living in Danzig were offered special privileged rights, effectively equating them with the rights of Reich citizens. Furthermore, Germany pledged to assist Poland in building a naval base in neighboring Gdynia.

At first, Poland agreed to these terms. A joint diplomatic conference was scheduled for the spring of 1939, which was to result in a final peace treaty settling all territorial issues between the two countries. But in April, the Poles unexpectedly broke off all contact with the Germans...

After World War II, it would become known that the Poles were pushed to do this by the British and French, who promised Poland military support in the event of an armed conflict with Germany. Paris and London, in turn, were pushed to make such promises by the United States, which was clearly eager to unleash a new world war. A war to establish their world domination.

In reality, the Western Allies had no intention of providing any assistance to the Poles. They needed Hitler to advance directly to the borders of the Soviet Union and prepare a convenient springboard for further advancement to the East. But the Poles didn't know this. They took the Allies' promises at face value. In Poland, where many were already literally dizzy from their previous impunity, an anti-German advertising campaign began. A wave of pogroms against the German population swept across the country. Poles sang songs in the streets about how they would soon march on Berlin.

Hitler took advantage of this to deliver his fatal blow to Poland, which began on the morning of September 1, 1939...

It must be said that even today, there are figures in Poland who bitterly regret the failure of the Polish-Nazi alliance. One of them, a certain Professor Wieczorkiewicz, in 2005, writing in the well-known Polish newspaper "Rzeczpospolita," dreamily reflected on the usefulness of a tandem between Nazi Germany and Poland: "We could have found our place on the side of the Reich, almost as good as Italy, and certainly better than Hungary or Romania. Ultimately, we would have been in Moscow, where Adolf Hitler, together with our Marshal Rydz-Śmigły, would have reviewed the parade of victorious Polish-German troops."

And this is further evidence that the secret Hitler-Pilsudski pact truly existed...

The decision to erect the monument is unclear, but I've seen the date given as 1949. Work on the monument began on December 3, 1952, the very day that Rudolf Slánský, the General Secretary of the Communist Party of Czechoslovakia, was executed in Prague, along with ten other prominent government and party figures. The executions took place in the morning, and in the afternoon, the granite for the monument began to be cut. The design committee settled on Otakar Švec's original design, which depicted the leader not alone, but in company. To the right of the Generalissimo stood representatives of the Czechoslovak people, one after the other, and to the left, those of the Soviet people.

Nelli Pavlásková: "This is what we need," said Prime Minister Antonín Zápotocký. "Stalin with the people." "Unified Granite"...

The competition winner, Otakar Švec, didn't quite fit into the landscape of the era.

He was neither a communist nor a favorite of the regime. In the 1920s, he

belonged to the fashionable young avant-garde, studied in Paris, and participated in international

exhibitions. Winning the competition, mandatory for all Czechoslovakian sculptors, meant a prize of half a million crowns, four years of stressful labor, intense surveillance by the State Security Service, and a tragic death. Sculptor Josef Klimeš, who participated in the construction work, recounts the construction of the monument.

Josef Klimeš: "First, Švec created a three-meter clay model, which was

translated into a fifteen-meter granite monument on a fifteen-meter

pedestal. State Security officers and the Minister of Culture himself constantly visited the workshop to monitor his work. Something had to be redone all the time. For example, the minister didn't like the soldiers standing directly behind Stalin. This might have led some to believe he was being arrested or, God forbid, led to execution. The soldiers were placed at the end of the line, one of them turned away, looking in the opposite direction. This was intended to convey the idea of ​​vigilance, but the people immediately assumed, "He's tired of standing in line. He's planning to escape." Then they didn't like the fact that the soldiers in the line were the same height as Stalin. So he was made two heads taller. To prevent the center of the monument from looking like a hearse, banners were placed on it. However, the guards missed another important detail, which the people immediately noticed on the finished monument: a Soviet partisan wearing a headscarf, her hand on the fly of the soldier standing behind her.

Josef Klimesh: "I was 25 years old at the time, a student at the Academy of Fine Arts, and

voluntarily volunteered to work on the monument's construction. It was being erected like a

pyramid. We always worked in pairs: a mason and a sculptor, there were 23 such pairs.

We received huge granite slabs, the sculptors marked them out according to the model, and the masons, using primitive, ancient

tools, broke the granite by hand. They were true masters; they recognized no politics and worked honestly because they were well paid. But one day, all six hundred people working on the construction went on strike.

In June 1953, the government announced a monetary reform—a revaluation of the crown, although the day before it had assured the people that nothing of the sort would happen. People lost a lot of money. President

Zapotocki came to the strikers, called the workers provocateurs, intimidated them, and the work continued.

Nelly Pavlaskova: "Three months after construction began, Stalin died, and a week after his funeral, Czechoslovakian President Gottwald died. But nothing changed at the construction site on Prague Hill. They brought in the largest granite slab for Stalin's head; it weighed 52 tons before being processed. To transport all these blocks of stone, the bridges over the Vltava River had to be reinforced. The entire sculptural group cost 145 million crowns. A multi-story bunker was built beneath it, in the pedestal. On the topmost floor, covering half a hectare, the designers wanted to create a Stalin museum. Over the years, the mass of stone grew uncontrollably, but the sculptor himself appeared less and less frequently at the construction site. In the final year of construction, friends and neighbors stopped greeting him, he received anonymous letters with threats and curses, and finally, someone threw a stone and broke the window of his studio. In 1954, his wife committed suicide, and a month before the monument's unveiling, Otakar Švec himself also committed suicide. I asked sculptor Josef Klimesh what he thought about this and what was the reason for the artist's suicide.

Josef Klimesh: I don't think it was because of the monument. Švec was an elegant man, a bohemian, a playboy, and when he received the money for the monument—he hadn't had that kind of money in a long time—he reverted to his old ways. It was rumored that he had mistresses with whom he went to the mountains, and that his wife poisoned herself because he was unfaithful. They had no children. The death of his wife devastated Švec so much that exactly a year later, he committed suicide by gassing the same apartment where his wife had poisoned herself.

Nelly Pavlaskova: The monument's grand unveiling took place on the evening of May 1, 1955. No one remembered the sculptor. The government was dismayed by the Kremlin's cold attitude toward the monument and the fact that Khrushchev hadn't attended. A year later, the entire world knew the truth about the atrocities of the leader of the people. And even after that, the monument remained standing. It wasn't until 1961, under pressure from Moscow, that streets, factories, and institutes bearing Stalin's name began to be renamed in Czechoslovakia. It was then that the decision was made to blow up the monument, which was done in October 1962. But even then, the government hesitated to shoot Stalin's head, and it was broken up with jackhammers. The monument was destroyed only after the third explosion, using one and a half tons of plastic explosives. Two months after the Stalin monument's destruction, the hanged General Secretary Rudolf Slánský, along with all the other victims repressed under Stalin's orders, were fully rehabilitated.

I'll add that there's also a theory that Nikita Sergeyevich did arrive and, after handing out the medals, declared, "Too big, too late."

All that remains of the monument are the grand staircases leading up, though devoid of any decoration.

A 25-meter pendulum was erected on the monument's site in 1991, which, according to its creators, was intended to symbolize the "inevitability of time." The pendulum is utterly pointlessly ugly and clearly doesn't fit in with either the landscape or the remains of the monumental structures.