 The National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime presents another of the most significant programs on the air today, Words at War, dramatizing the most representative books to come out of this great world conflict. Tonight, an eye-witness account of the Polish Underground, Jan Karski's Story of a Secret State. My name is Jan Karski, Polish officer and member of the Underground. Before the war, I was interested in demography, the science and statistics of populations. I was completing my doctor's thesis in that subject. I lived with my brothers and sister in Warsaw, and like many others in Poland at that time, I was blithely unaware of what the future had in store for us as a nation and as a people. I remember particularly the night of August 31st, 1939. This is a delightful party, Mr. Demenders, simply delightful. Thank you, thank you. Come, Mr. Karski, you must tell me more of the beauties of Warsaw. You were describing the botanical gardens, weren't you? The best in Europe. I will take you there tomorrow, mademoiselle. Oh, I wouldn't miss them for anything in the world. I just love your city. It's perfectly charming, and I hope to see you take it. It was a gay party. We drank wine and danced interminably. In the course of the evening, I made a number of appointments for the following week. The affair ended late. I came home tired and full of intoxicating plans for the future. And then the next morning, the news no one expected came. Polen! I joined my regiment and we were shipped to the front. We made hasty haphazard preparations to check the German blitzkrieg, and we talked big. We'll smash the enemy before he gains enough to fight. Germany is weak and Hitler is bluffing. Poland ceased to exist as an independent state. And I, Jan Karski, was a prisoner of war in deep Russia. In November 1939, I was making my way to Warsaw, whose streets and highways clogged with refugees. I'd been exchanged by the Russian authorities to the Germans as a war prisoner. Later I escaped from a Nazi internment camp at Radom, hoping to find some resistance alive. Warsaw was a shocking ruin of its former self. I passed through street after street, heat with rubble and debris. I was hungry, exhausted without funds, not sure whether my family or friends were still alive. The Nazi soldiers and elite guard were everywhere, parading up and down the streets. Nazi guards and Gestapo men were posted on every corner, scrutinizing everyone who passed by. Keep moving, you poor swan! Don't come with me! Finally I came to the house of my friend Paul. I made sure no one was following me and knocked on the door. I'm glad to see you. I need help. Not here. Come inside. If you've been doing, Jan, where did you come from? Radom. I escaped three days ago. What about you, Paul? I've gotten by. Look as if you've been through a great deal. Sit down, Jan. Never mind that, Paul. We must do something. What do you mean? I mean, we can't just stand by and let them take over. Warsaw is no longer the same city. We no longer have a country. What's to become of us? Conditions are not as bad as some people think. The last battle has not yet been fought, Jan. But, Paul... What about yourself? And like you, young and healthy, you're in constant danger. You can be picked up at any moment and sent to a forced labor camp. Any plans? None whatsoever. Do you have any papers? Any money? No. Would you have the nerve to live under a false passport? I... I... Yes, but... What makes you think it's so easy to obtain false papers? They can be obtained. But can I obtain them? Hell, I have to pay much. And where will I get the money? You asked too many questions, John. I'm sorry, Paul. At times like these, it's not healthy to be so inquisitive. What'll I do then? Well, you'll need a place to live, first of all. Now, this is the address of the apartment I'm sending you to. Here you are. Go there, get some supplies. Don't leave the apartment and don't speak to anybody. I'll come in a few days and tell you what's to be done. And by now. Don't worry. Thank you, Paul. I appreciate this. There's one more thing, Jan. Just remember this. Poland has been defeated. But she's not been conquered. This was my initiation into the Polish underground. Two days later, Paul came with my forged papers and I became a member of a strange new world in which I was destined to live during the following years. Quite clear to me that it did to every Pole young and old, healthy and sick man or woman, that Patton was a systematic, ruthless, premeditated extermination of the Polish people. Now, let's carefully approach. Stage daily on the streets of Warsaw to recruit slave labor for Germany's industrial machine. There are also other types of manhuns carried out just as systematically, but for different purposes. Seventeen on this rate. Fine. Let's take a look at them. Single file. All blonde, hallowed nuns. Ages sixteen to twenty. And healthy. A very nice catch this time, Kunze. They'll do very nicely. This one, the pretty one on the left. Bring her out to me later. Yes. All right, girls. I think you know what's expected of you. You shall now get a bath, manicure, half set and all other treatments. Then you will be assigned to the officer's quarters. You should consider yourself fortunate. From now on you'll get plenty of food and your life will be easy. Besides, you'll be contributing directly to the welfare and happiness of the officers of the Third Reich. To the manhunt who soon added other methods of depopulation and rule by terror. Are you Lisovsky? Yes. Your house is being taken over by the Third Reich. Be ready to evacuate in two hours. You are permitted to take ten pounds of food and linen. And your home must be cleaned and put in good order for your German successes. No police is permitted to take employment without an employment certificate. All Poles who cannot produce satisfactory evidence of employment will be sent to a concentration camp. The grave is finished, Herr Leitnand. Very good. Line them up. Line up, you Polish swine! Line up! All right, Schmidt. Proceed. Yes, Herr Leitnand. Counter these measures, the Polish underground prepared to take actions of reprisals. And after I had familiarized myself with the underground methods, routine and discipline, I received the order for my first mission. Garski, tomorrow morning you will go to Lvov. The mission will be to establish a union between the organization of that city and Warsaw. The center of the city will find a clothing store called Vitek. Contact the proprietor. Two days later, I arrived in Lvov and went directly to the designated clothing store in the center of the business district. Good evening. Good evening. What can I do for you? Are you Mr. Vitek? Yes. Greetings from Antoine. I have a personal message for you. Come into the back room. I am from Warsaw, Mr. Vitek. I have information to give you from Mr. Boretski. I never heard of him. I don't know anybody in Warsaw except one or two relatives. Look, my name is Garski. I've been sent here as a courier to improve the relations between the Lvov and Warsaw underground organizations and to inform you of the new plans. I never heard of you and I have no connection with anybody in Warsaw. Is there anything else I can do for you? I came from Warsaw to deliver a message. You've got to listen. If you don't leave my store at once, I shall be forced to call the occupation authority. Very well. I'm sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Vitek. I must have made a mistake. I mean, there was obviously some error. Goodbye, Mr. Vitek. I left the store hurriedly and walked toward the park. I knew I was being followed, but I didn't dare leave town. I had to find some method of contacting the underground at the bot. I sat on the park bench, trying to figure out my next move when... Good evening, Mr. Karski. Vitek. I'm sorry for what happened in my store, but I had to make sure you were the right person. We must be careful. There are spies all over. Now, your message for Mr. Boretski. I outlined the plan to him and he listened attentively, nodding his head and interrupting to ask questions. Then he said... I would like you to inform Mr. Boretski and the others in Warsaw that I am in complete accord with their principle. I will do my utmost to help carry out their plan. My mission accomplished. I returned to Warsaw. Then they followed other trips. Karski, we wanted to go to Poznan and Lublin to contact the underground and then to Paris to report to the Polish government in exile. When I returned to Warsaw from Paris, the consolidation of the underground was proceeding rapidly. The work of conspiracy reached every corner of the city in summer. One of the divisions of the underground was the secret press, risking their lives constantly young and old, men and women, listened to foreign broadcasts and soundproof salaries, and small huts set up in Paris, in addicts with fake double roots. All right, Mr. Boretski, I'll take the story to the city desk and watch out for the discovering. The city desk was usually located in a basement or hut in the woods. Is the story all set up, Mr. Boretski? Get ready to run it now. Here's the proof. Today, the British Foreign Office announced that new evidence has been uncovered supporting the charge that slave labor is being used in Poland and in Germany to man the production line. At the same time, there has been a new outbreak of sabotage in Poland. All right, Mr. Boretski, run off 2,000 copies. Distribution was another problem. Every kind of ruse was practiced. Krakow zaitung, Krakow zaitung. Latest edition by your paper here. No poll ever bought these German papers unless the boy smilingly said to him, today you have extraordinary news about German victories. Why? That meant the copy was stuffed with an underground newspaper, or a butcher would say to a woman customer while wrapping her meat. Put it on ice immediately when you reach home, will you? And the woman knew what he meant. There were other methods for keeping mass hate alive. There was a method called the renaming of the street. At 12 midnight, take down the name of Deborah Street from all the walls, street corners, lamp posts and placards and substitute the name Roosevelt Street. And so, if you were with strangers, you could immediately tell which side they were on if they said... I'm going to Roosevelt Street. You knew they were your own kind, members of the underground or patriots. But if they said... Come up and see me tonight. I want to go to Beauva Street. You knew you had to be careful and watch your town. We also developed specialists in sabotage and revenge, seasoned by experience. By the order of the underground government, this list of criminals will be released from the penitentiaries. This shall be done by means of fake documents, forged pardons, etc. Once released, these criminals will be encouraged to resume their former profession of fevery and murder with this proviso that they can find their activities to the Germans. After the war, their sentences will be reduced in proportion to the success of their operations against the Germans. These were but a few functions of the underground. They were others, not quite so pleasant. The underground court, having examined the evidence against Josef Korczyk, a citizen of Poland of German origin, finds him guilty of collaboration with the German authorities. For this crime against the people of Poland, court orders that Josef Korczyk be executed. A sentence to be administered by any convenient beings within the next 24 hours. To carry out the work of the underground, it was, of course, necessary to have money. But even that problem was solved in time by the blackmail system. This is how the system worked. We will have to have some new sprint again. Well, how about contacting Herr Gerhard? He's a high Nazi official, and there's nothing he won't do for a price. Fine. Go see him as soon as possible. What's the maximum price you want me to pay? On this first transaction, pay him any price he asks. Because the transaction was highly illegal, and because the Nazis tried to make as much money out of Poland as they could, the price was usually outrageous. You know, I take great chances in selling this new sprint to you. It's really a crime against the Fatherland. So, naturally, I shall expect something extra for my services. The price shall be 100,000 miles. Oh, that's all right, Herr Gerhard. That's a fair price. We'll arrange to have the money delivered to you by morning. Then the next time we need a newsprint, or anything else for that matter, this took place. Here's a list of items we should like to buy, Herr Gerhard. 100 rifles, 20 pistols, and 20 bales of newsprint. And we shall expect them at half their former price. Half price? Are you out of your mind? Listen, you Polish swine. I have a good mind to turn you over to this. To the Gestapo? I don't think so, Herr Gerhard. You see, we have proof of all our former transactions. Photographed and documented. We should be only too glad to let the Gestapo look into it. I see. Dirty Polish swine. Very well. I shall see that you get delivery by morning. At half price? Yes, at half price. After several months in Warsaw, I was given another special assignment. Tarski, we want you to go to Paris and deliver some secret documents to the Polish government in exile. They're all here on microfilm. If anything happens to you, destroy them at any cost. Two days later, I started on the trip. But this time, as I crossed the Slovakian border... You've got up with your last head, Tarski. All right. You want the rest? Fortunately, there was a barrel of water nearby. I flung the microfilm into it. One hour later, I was being questioned by the Gestapo. Sit down, you dirty Polish swine. Are these your papers, Tarski? You don't like talking to us. We aren't good enough for you. Answer the inspector, you swine. Yes, they are my papers. Thank you. So good of you to acknowledge my question. As long as you are in that frame of mind, my friend, you won't mind telling me the entire truth about your connection with the underground? I have no connection with the underground. You can see by my papers, I'm the son of a Lvov teacher. And for how long have you been the son of a Lvov teacher? Two months? Three months? No, sir. All my life. I am a student. I wanted to go to Switzerland to study. And not by any chance did you want to go to France to join the Polish army? No, sir. No? Very no. Won't you excuse me if I don't listen to you anymore? What was on the film you threw in the water? Very good. Films of the ruins of Warsaw. Then why did you throw them in the water? Out of them! I don't know. You're lying, you Polish spy. You have to work on them and leave just enough of them to be questioned. The next day I was questioned again, beaten again. There's another session the third day. I knew that I had arrived at the end that I should never survive another beating. I had a razor blade that I had hidden in my mattress. I took it out and cut into my wrists. The blood began to spur out and then I lost consciousness. Don't be frightened, you're in a Slovakian hospital. We're going to make you well in the moment you receive a blood transfusion. I remember praying that I would not come back to life. A sharp instrument jabbed into my leg. I tried to pull away. This will do you good. I tried to stop them. Tear away from their hands. They blackened me. Next morning I was awakened by a feminine voice. And Norton was standing at my bedside. Listen carefully. Act as sick as you can. And don't be afraid. The entire staff, doctors, nurses and attendants is all Polish. Word has been sent to your superiors. Be patient. Take good care of yourself. I will return in a few days. Two days later she came back. You are going to be set free tonight. I have just put cyanide on your pillow. It kills quickly. But don't use it unless you're absolutely certain the worst has come. About eight o'clock that evening the doctor examined me again. Listen carefully. Everything has been arranged. At midnight I will pass this room and light a cigarette. That is your cue. Take off your clothes. I'll have some others for you. And go to the first floor. On one of the windowsills you will find a rose. Jump from that sill. Men will be standing below. Is everything clear? Yes. Good. Good luck. It was exactly 12 midnight when the doctor appeared in the doorway. Slipped out of bed. I looked at the pajamas and stopped them under the cover. Completely naked I patted down to the first floor. There in front of me was the open window. The rose had been blown from the sill in the floor. Was it an omen? It didn't matter. I had to take a chance. I stared for a moment at the blackness below and jumped. All right, Karsgate. Put this code on over you. Everything has been arranged to keep you out of sight until the chase cools off. Welcome back to the underground frame. It was a year after my escape from the Gestapo before I was able to help again. The underground had arranged a place of convalescence for me. At last, fully recovered, I was summoned to a secret meeting place. Follow me this way. I saw grouped around the table the men who controlled the destiny of Poland, the leaders of the major political parties, the chief delegate of the Polish government in London, the commander in chief of the underground army, the leader of the socialist party stood up. Mr. Karsgate, we're happy to see you so well recovered. Thank you, gentlemen. The purpose of this meeting is to provide you with material which you will take to London to our government in exile. Before leaving Poland, however, you will contact the leaders of the Jewish underground and make a tour of the Warsaw ghetto so that you'll be able to make a first-hand account of conditions there. I made the trip the following day, and I shall never forget it. The entire population of the ghetto seemed to be living in the street. It was hardly a square yard of empty space. Everywhere there was hunger, misery, the atrocious stench of decomposing bodies, the moans of dying children, the desperate cries and gasps of the people struggling for life against impossible odds. Frequently we pass by corpses lying naked in the streets. My guide explained... When a Jew dies, his family removes his clothing and throws his body into the street. If not, they have to pay the Germans to have the body buried. They have instituted a burial tax which no one here can afford. Besides, this saves clothing, and here every rag counts. But I don't see many old people. Do they stay inside all day? No. Don't you understand the German system yet? Those whose muscles are still capable of any effort to use for forced labor. The others are murdered by quota. First come the sick and the aged, then the unemployed, finally those who work on roads and trains and factories. Wait. What's the matter, Karci? You must see this. This is something for you to tell the world about. What, where? Inside the building. Quick, please, hurry. Finally, my guide see this hide himself and my curiosity drove me on, too. At last, we reached the top floor, my guide knocked on the door. What do you want? Do your windows face the street? No, the courtyard. What do you want? Never mind. Follow me, Kraski, quick. Cross the hall. Quickly. Come to the window. Look through the sled on the side. Now you'll see something. You would never believe it if you didn't see it for yourself. Hey, look through the opening. In the middle of the street, two young Nazi soldiers were approaching the building. Suddenly, one of them pulled a gun out of his hip pocket. Now watch him. Watch him closely. He's looking for a target. He raised his arm and took careful aim. The boy who fired the shot shouted joy. Then they linked arms and walked off. Now there's what is known as the hunt. It happens every day. Keeps them in practice and provides convenient targets. I stood there, afraid to change the position of my body. I was seized with such a feeling of nausea that I could not make the effort of will to take a single step. Well, have you seen enough? Take me out of here. Take me out of here. Clatter down the stairs. In the street, I broke into a run. I had to get out of there. I had to get a breath of pressure or a drink of clean water. Everything here was polluted with death, filth and decay. I kept running until we reached the street door that led to the outside world. Finally, I left Poland to make my report to the world. At last, I was free to fight in the open, free to recite to all men the Lord's prayer of the Polish underground. Give us this day our daily bread. Our daily bread is a toil beyond any endurance. And forgive us our trespasses. Forgive us, O Lord, should we be too weak to crush the beast. And lead us not into temptation. Lead us not into temptation that let the traitors and spies among us perish. But deliver us from evil. Deliver us from the evil one, from the foe of our Polish land. Amen. Let us again be the hosts of our own soil. Amen. Give us freedom, O Lord. Amen. Tonight on Words at War, we've brought you a dramatization of Jan Karski's book, Story of a Secret State. The radio dramatization was written by Ben Kagan and Morton D'Costa played Jan Karski. The music was arranged and played by William Meader and the production was under the direction of Anton M. Lieder. Because of a special broadcast, Words at War will not be heard next week. However, two weeks from tonight, at our usual time, we'll bring you the latest published book on the Fighting in the Pacific, entitled, Battle Report. Words at War is brought to you in cooperation with the Council on Books and Wartime, by the National Broadcasting Company and the Independent Radio Stations associated with the NBC network. Jack Costello speaking, This is the National Broadcasting Company.