 The NBC University of the Air, a public service of the national broadcasting company and its affiliated independent stations, presents another chapter in the historical series, We Came This Way. Today's story, Tadeusz Krusciuszko. In 1774, after the first partition, like three efficient surgeons, Prussia, Russia and Austria have done their work well. Now the amputations are accomplished, and Poland is a body with a beating heart but no limbs. It is a torso mutilated externally and diseased internally. For the nobles have planted their booted feet upon the backs of the serfs, whose bare feet are planted in the black Polish soil. This is a land of palestin-hovel, of master and slave, of despot and despise. This is Poland in 1774. To the villa of a provincial governor, a young soldier comes courting. A handsome young soldier, a captain of artillery, adept in military engineering and the art of fortification. A young man with certain political ideas in his head and non-political ideas in his heart at the moment. This is Andrzej Tadeusz Bonaventura Krusciuszko. Ludwika? Yes, Tadeusz? You know what I'm about to say? Yes, but say it anyway. But if you know? Tadeusz, you're a soldier. But must you look for logic even from a woman? No, I... Ludwika, I love you. You say it very simply. But I mean it very sincerely. I ask you to be my wife. Will you, Ludwika? Do you need my answer? No. No, my dear. I see it in your eyes. Tadeusz, I alone cannot say yes. My father... I know. I'll talk to him now. I... I'm afraid. Tadeusz, he's a stubborn man, set in his ways. So am I, my dear. Countess Norsi? What is it, Captain? I request an interview. Well, speak. I've come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage. You... You what? I believe I spoke clearly, sir. Yes, you did. But I just couldn't believe what I heard. Captain Kosciuszko, on what presumption did you think that you could marry my daughter? Why, I'm a man, Excellency, and she is a woman. You are a penniless soldier. My daughter is an aristocrat. I come from a good family, Countess Norsi. But not good enough. Impoverished, landed gentry. Hardly better than peasants. No better, Excellency. Then you admit it. I am proud of it. Proud to count the peasants, my friend. Peasants? They're pigs. They are the people of Poland. Captain Kosciuszko. I kept a dossier on you. You often spoken of people's rights. You've spread the doctrines of Voltaire at the Royal Military Academy in Warsaw. You've approved the agitation against the British Crown in the American colonies. Well? In short, my friend, you were radical. And marriage with my daughter is out of the question. Besides, I've made other arrangements for Ludwica. What other arrangements, Your Excellency? Prince Lubomirski has been paying her suit. I've decided that she will marry him. Prince Lubomirski? He's very rich? Yes, Captain. And very fat and dull. Silence! How dare you? The right of the Polish nobleman, eh, Countess? The paternal privilege of marrying your daughter off without consulting her. She'll do as I tell her. Will she? Why don't you ask her? Very well, Captain. I shall. Ludwica! Ludwica! Come in here, Ludwica. Yes, Father. Captain Kaczuszko has just asked for your hand in marriage. I have refused. I have decided that you will marry Prince Lubomirski. Prince? Oh, no, Father, no. Yes, Ludwica. Because if you don't, if you marry this man, well, Count. If she does, then Poland will not be big enough for the two of you. I'll hound you out of the country. Strip you, Captain, of your military commission. See that you are denied employment until you starve. Blacken your name. Oh, no. We'll go to America, Ludwica. With a breath of freedom, a stirring already, as it must stir here. And one day, we'll come back. To, to America? What are they all shy? Well, Ludwica, decide. Will you go or will you stay? I'll stay, Father. Ah, dutiful child. I bid you good evening, Captain. Oh, dutiful child. I couldn't. I understand. Goodbye, Ludwica. With or without Ludwica, Kostrusko is determined to go to America and go he does. General Washington commissions him a colonel of engineers and sends him to build fortifications for General Horatio Gates at crucial Saratoga. The young Pole's work at Saratoga earns him the gratitude of the nation. His cleverly-built redoubts stop the British cold and help make the battle of Saratoga a decisive victory for the Americans. From there, Washington sends him to West Point to fortify that area on the Hudson, Kostrusko's most important task. Here, 2,500 Americans work under him. And they are not always warm or well-fed. But they all come to know the man who officially is their superior. But unofficially, the ground's pretty hard, eh, Private? The pickaxe does not bite so deep. It's the frost and the cold. I can't remember when I ever did feel the cold like this. The wind bites clean through a man's gizzards. You swing a pick like a man, Private. I ought to work out late. I'm a farmer. Don't plenty of digging of rocks on my own land? If I had a pair of warm gloves, I wouldn't mind this so much. Warm gloves? That's a good one. But aren't a pair of warm gloves in all West Point? Look, Private, why don't you stop working for a few minutes? Warm your hands in your pocket. I can't. You're ordered from the polander. But to finish this foundation. You warm your hands. I'll take over. Well, now that's that kind of your friend. My hands are pretty numb. Been out here for hours. See, let me help you take your great coat off. Thank you. Hey, wait a minute. You're wearing rank under your coat. A colonel. Well, you're the polander. From Kosciuszko. Yes. I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know. A larger was just one of the men. I am. Let me have that pickaxe. Will you, Private? Oh, no, sir. It ain't fitting for a colonel. That's an order. Yes, sir. What's your name, Private? Hicks, sir. Tom Hicks. And you're a farmer, eh? Yes, sir. Got my own place up in Delaware County. I was born up there. I know what's become of it, though. Been in the Army, sir. Anyone on the land now, Hicks? Just my wife and young boy, sir. Haven't heard from him in a long time. Perhaps when this work is over, Hicks, we can arrange to give you a few days to visit them. But now that'd be fine, sir. I haven't been home in over three months. Eh... Eh... How long has it been since you've been home, sir? Three years, Hicks. That is a long time. When will you go? When it's over. And we've won. You know, Colonel, the boys in me were talking about you. Wondering why you come all the way from Poland to fight for us here? For the same reason. That you left your farm, Hicks. But we're fighting for our families. Our farms. This ground here. Our people. It's true. And so am I. I'm fighting for the peasants of Poland. I don't understand, sir. Yes. People are people wherever they live. They stand on the same earth and want the same things. If you win here in America, then the peasants in my land will take courage. And they too will rise and win. Never thought of that way, sir. A man's a man, and he wants the same things wherever he be. Oh, Colonel, better let me take over the pickaxe now so you can warm your hands in your coat. Rostusko goes on to further his great contribution to American freedom as chief engineer to General Green with the Army of the South. And finally the British capitulate and the work of the great engineer is done. Now he heads homeward to Poland. 1791. A period of turmoil and then triumph. The king under pressure has granted a constitution. The news spreads like wildfire. It is announced in the marketplace of every town and city and the population rejoices. My dear neighbor, anyone who sets foot in Poland is now free. Yes, they're going to give us the same legal rights as the nobles. We can elect our own peasants leaders to the government. Not only that, certain rights to the land. They're trialed in the court. Long live the constitution! The autocrats in Russia and Prussia are alarmed. For the people to think and talk of freedom is nonsense, but dangerous nonsense. It must be stopped at the source and quickly. Catherine the Great sends her Russian armies to Poland, the Prussians by arrangement withdraw from their Polish alliance. The peasants of Warsaw and Lublin and Lviv and Kraków are armed only with ideas, not weapons. And the tragedy of Poland repeats itself. It is 1793 and the second partition of Poland. Once again the Russian and Prussian surgeons neatly and efficiently amputate sections of the bleeding torso. Everyone forgets to cut out the beating heart, the humble peasant who loves the black land and sweats over it and lives on it and is buried in it. The peasants are the people. And they have lost their land and their freedom. But their spirit is strong. This Tadeusz Krzysko knows. Now a general, he calls two Polish peasant leaders to his Patriot's exile in Leipzig. Here, Bolesław, Adam, look at this map. Here is the old Poland, stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea and far to the east. Yes. Now there is little left but Warsaw and Lublin. Now we must fight until we get it back. But how, General Krzysko, the nation is despoiled and the Polish nobles will not fight another war? Perhaps not. But the peasants will. The peasants, general? Yes. Is that so strange, Adam? The peasants are the people. But general, they're wood choppers, farmers, the small merchants, they've never before borne arms. That has been the privilege of the aristocrat. The privilege of fighting for one's country is the privilege of every man. I saw the people in America rise and fight and win. I was among them, fought with them. I saw what a sacred cause could do to fire a people. A people with a will. And they won. They are free. If the American people can do it, then so can the Polish peasants. The world is our example, Bolesław. It can be done. It will be done. General Krzysko, the people of America had more than a citizen's army. They had a leader, too. Yes, Washington. We have heard of him, even in Poland. Would you lead the people of Poland, general? I should be honored if the peasants want me. They will want no other. Your name is on the lips of every man, woman and child in the nation. You are the only man who can arouse the people. Then go back to Poland and proclaim the cause. I will return after you. What is it? The people are organizing to drive the enemy out. They need strong men like yourself. But I'm not a noble. War is not my business. I'm a peasant. This time the peasants will do the fighting. Go to the marketplace, men. Assemble there and take your axe with you. Who will lead us? Gdaus Kaszusko. Kaszusko. This is the last pair of shoes I cover, madam. I take no more shoes. Would you have me walk in bare feet through the streets of Warsaw? That is your affair. I have other uses for my hammer to crack the heads of enemy soldiers. Oh, this is madness. All these talk of a peasants' war. There will be only blood and death. True, madam. Blood and death. And finally, freedom. But who is there to lead you, cobbler? Haven't you heard, woman? Gdaus Kaszusko. And those are my two sons. Put them along with the curved blade. But see what a handy weapon this makes, farmer. The scythe goes into the flame until it's white hot. Then it can be hammered into a straight bayonet. And after it is all over? Then bring it to the fire, back into an instrumental piece. The Russians have guns and cannons. We have only pitchforks and scythe. True, but we have Gdaus Kaszusko. I hear that he's on his way to Kraków now. Yes, Kaszusko is on his way to Kraków. And as he passes through Poland, the peasants rally by the thousands to march behind him. Their scythe, pitchforks and other farm implements flashing in the sun. Poland is on the march. Poland would be free. In Kraków, the general sets up military headquarters and plans his campaign against the legions which Catherine the Great has gathered to crush the rebellion. And one night he receives a visitor. Come in. Kaszusko. Yes. I don't know if you remember me. It's Count Sosnowski. Isn't it? Yes, General. Last time we had an interview, you were Captain Kaszusko. That was a long time ago. Sit down, Count. Thank you. Tell me about Ludwica. She is well? Yes, well. And happy? Who can tell how a woman feels? Yes, that's true. What brings you here, sir? I come as a representative of the Polish nobles. Well? We wish to join your forces. I'm afraid you don't understand, my dear Count. Our army consists of peasants. What you and your friends might call rubber. Nevertheless, they are Poles. They fight a foreign enemy for the life of Poland. Whatever our differences are among ourselves, this is a common cause. I suppose you think I've changed, General. No. I think the times have changed. The people are on the march, Count Sosnowski. They've risen out of the ground, and they won't be stamped back into it. The day of the free man is beginning, and the day of the serf is over. Racowice. A bright and shining name in Polish history. The peasants armed only with sides, marching into the Russian palace. Yes, Polesma. See, they march grimly with purpose. But they'll be slaughtered. They haven't a chance. See, many are falling. But none turn back, Polesma. Forward, peasants. It's the only way. Forward. General, it's a miracle. The Russians seem unnerved. They're breaking. Our men are swarming over them. Fix me, General, because you fell. It's a great victory. Racowice and victory. This is the beginning. In Warsaw, the people, led by a shoemaker named Kielinski, drive the Russians from the capital. From Kraków to Vilno, the toxin of war sounds. And the peasants rise from the earth, swinging their shining sides. And as victory after victory comes, Kosciuszko issues proclamation after proclamation. Every serf who fights in the national defense shall be free. There shall be liberty of conscience and justice in the court. All religions are equal in the eyes of the law. A great wind sweeps across the plains of Central Europe. A great free wind. It carries the overtones and echoes of Kosciuszko's words and the roar of the peasants who follow him soared up with it. It blows not only across Russia, but across autocratic Prussia and Austria. And this time the peasants are armed, not only with ideas, but with sighs and pitchforks. And once again the mighty and entrenched hear the ominous sounds and are afraid. And once again they march. Frederick William of Prussia declares war and sends 40,000 Germans marching toward Kraków. Austria sends her soldiers into Galicia. Catherine the Great sends her great-general Suvarov. Then the Siege of Warsaw, a last heroic charge by the Poles, and finally defeat. Kosciuszko falls badly wounded at the head of his citizen army. The Russians, out of admiration and respect, hold him a privileged prisoner of war in the Orloff Palace at St. Petersburg. Catherine the Great dies, and her son, Paul of Russia, rules. He visits General Kosciuszko. You are well, General? Thank you. Yes, Your Majesty. Your surgeons have been efficient. They have been giving me daily reports on the progress of your wounds. I've ordered the guards to give you the freedom of the palace grounds. You are very kind, Sion. General Kosciuszko, my mother feared you and what you stand for. She was, shall we say, a hard woman of single purpose and not a little ruthless. She was a worthy enemy. Thank you, General. I, however, admire and respect you and I am inclined to be generous. Yes, Your Majesty. I have decided to release you. From this time on, you're a free man. Well, you don't seem to be very happy about it or even grateful. No, Sire. I am grateful for your generous offer, but I cannot accept it. Cannot accept it? Why not? I am just one patriot. You hold 12,000 other Polish patriots in Siberia, prisoners. Well, I cannot go free unless you free them, too. General, you must be mad. Don't you understand? I'm making you a personal offer. Your special case. I am a pole. And no pole is a special case. This is nonsense, General. I tell you again. I'll release you, but not your countryman. Then, Sire, thank you for keeping me your prisoner. Very well, General. Perhaps when you've had a few months to think it over, you'll change your mind. But Kostushko did not change his mind. Time and again, Tsar Paul visited him, offered him his personal freedom. And time and again, Kostushko refused. His simple bearing, dignity, and intense love for his people impressed the Russians more and more as time went on. And finally, one day... You still persist in this stand, General Kostushko? Yes, Your Majesty. Without my people, I cannot go. You know, General, I came here to your quarters with a piece of paper fully intending to show it to you and then tear it up if you refused my offer. Here, look at it. Why, it's a general amnesty for all Polish prisoners. Release without condition and sign by yourself. Yes. And you're not going to destroy it? No. It stands as it is. You know, General, you're a brave man, a patriot, and a man of principle. But I think of all your attributes. You have one that is more purely Polish than any other. And what is that, Tsar? You are very stubborn. The love of freedom, Tsar, is a stubborn virtue. This is Tadeusz Kostushko, spiritual leader of the Poles, a hero in defeat. He returns to America and his tour is a triumphal procession. Americans cannot applaud him enough. George Washington welcomes him with open arms. Thomas Jefferson calls him as pure a son of liberty as he has ever known, a son of that liberty which is to go to all, not to the few and rich alone. Tadeusz Kostushko died in Salier, Switzerland, in October 1817, but he did not die in the hearts of Poles everywhere and of all time. His spirit still lives in all the Jans and Steffans and Stashes and Ignats and Maurices who live in American cities and towns on and around Kostushko Street. He was one of them and four of them as he was for all common men. Ask Stasia Novitski. Ever since I was a little girl, my father and mother have talked about Kostushko. They had a kind of quiet tone to their voices when they spoke about him just like they did when they prayed at Mass. I guess they thought he was next to God and from what they told me, maybe he was. This is a special handbook which we have prepared to accompany it. You can obtain the handbook by sending 25 cents in cash to cover cost of printing and mailing to We Came This Way, Box 30, Station J, New York 27, New York.