Lofty Aspirations – Climbing The Bell Tower In Reszel (Northern Poland & Berlin #49)

While climbing the tower at St. Mary’s Church would have to wait, there was another opportunity in Gdansk to gain a bird’s eye view of the city. The Old Town Hall is at the epicenter of Gdansk. Its tower was said to offer a stunning view not to be missed. There was only one problem. The tower was closed for a couple of more weeks because the busy season had not yet arrived. The only tower we would be climbing in Gdansk was at St Mary’s Church, but that would have to wait until our last full day in the city. We were headed into the rural hinterland of northern Poland in search of the Wolf’s Lair and sites associated with the Battle of Tannenberg. Neither my travel companion nor I figured there would any other towering opportunities during our trip to Poland. This part of the journey would allow us time to visit other interesting places we might find along the way. We had no idea that this part of the journey would offer us the opportunity to climb not one, but two towers in the town of Reszel.

Inspiring view – Looking out from the tower at Reszel Castle

Security & Scenery – Multiple Perspectives
Rezsel was on the way to the Wolf’s Lair, Hitler’s headquarters on the Eastern Front. It is unfortunate to associate a town so resonant in history with a historical figure who promulgated so much hatred. Rezsel was the definition of beauty and elegance, a town that rose above the surrounding landscape while still being harmonious with it. A patchwork of forest and fields surrounded the town. The landscape looked enchanting. Rezsel managed its own magic act. There was an element of fantasy about the place. The pastel-colored houses, cobbled streets, and slanting red roofs were all in symmetry. The town was a postcard creator’s dream, its surroundings a landscape painter’s aspiration.

A gentle breeze was blowing through the narrow streets as we entered Reszel. The visionary delights that drew us to the town soon came into view. While visiting the Wolf’s Lair was a memorable experience, Reszel will linger with my friend and I much longer. It was an astonishing find, courtesy of tourist information on Warmia I found the night before while searching online. Like all tourist literature, the promotional materials made Rezsel sound wonderful. In this case, Reszel not only met those expectations, but it also managed to exceed them. What was not to like about a quiet provincial town with a castle that offered rooms for the night, animals wandering around the courtyard, and the most terrifying torture museum I have ever seen?

Reszel Castle was constructed upon a prominent hilltop overlooking the Sajna River in the mid-14^th century by the Teutonic Knights. The Knights could not have picked a more secure or scenic spot in the area. They did not have tourism in mind, but they might as well have. The castle was not in the best shape, but what it lacked in aesthetics, it more than made up for by allowing visitors to wander at their leisure. This led us to a multi-story climb of the castle’s tower. There was a fine viewpoint available at the top, where we took stunning photos, particularly of the town’s greatest architectural wonder, the Gothic St. Peter and Paul’s Church. When we decided to make the church our next stop, little did we know that there would be another tower to climb.

Multiple perspectives – Reszel Castle as seen from St Peter and Paul’s Church

True Believers – Defenders of the Faith
St. Peter and St. Paul’s Church was reminiscent of the churches we had seen in Gdansk. In other words, it was a giant brick edifice. The church loomed over everything else in Reszel, including the castle. Walking around the exterior of the church I find it impossible to escape from the long shadows it cast, even in the morning. The architecture was as forbidding as it was inviting. It reflected the persona of the Teutonic Knights as monastic warriors. Their faith and military endeavors were inseparable from one another. To some the Knights were homicidal maniacs, but no one can doubt that they were true believers. The size of their churches shows just how seriously they took religion. It was at the center of their existence. 

I was surprised to find the main door to the church unlocked. The interior turned out to be just as dramatic as the exterior. Spacious and awe inspiring, tranquility pervaded the place. Silence heightened the senses. This was one of those places where you become acutely aware of the sound made by your own footsteps. I could only imagine what the church must be like during busier times. We did not have to wait long to find out as a small group soon entered the church with a guide. Meanwhile, my friend called me over to the right back corner of the sanctuary. He had discovered an entrance to the bell tower. This adventure would be entirely self-guided.

We began the long trek onwards and upwards by traversing spiral stone steps. These soon changed into wooden switchback steps. By the time we stood face to face with the church bell, my friend decided he was done. Beads of sweat were dripping off my brow. By the point, we must have traversed ten flights of stairs. How many more could there possibly be? I was determined to find out. I began to wonder whether the tower was accessible. As I headed up the final flight of steps, I could see the sky. There was only one problem, a window straight above the stairs was in the way. Fortunately, there was a latch that I managed to turn. The window unlocked. I pushed it open and to one side. I then climbed out onto a viewing platform.

Onwards & upwards – Climbing the Bell Tower at Saint Peter and Paul’s Church in Reszel

A New Perspective – Visions of Reszel
The wind was howling. At ground level, there had been a gentle breeze. Atop the tower, there was a stiff gale. I steadied myself and then took in an expansive, 360-degree view. I could see the countryside stretching off to the horizon. The land was a vibrant, fluorescent green. My perspective was phenomenal. This part of Poland is one that few foreign tourists ever see. Pastoral, verdant and intensely naturalistic. The village of Reszel and the castle made up the other half of this visual. Architecture and nature melded together into an unforgettable image, one just as high and mighty as St. Peter and St. Paul’s Church. The loftiest aspirations of the Teutonic Knights had been satisfied and so were mine.

Click here for: Stairways To Heaven In Gdansk & Eger – Scaling The Heights (Northern Poland & Berlin #50)

Ghosts of an East Prussian Past – Reverence & Resurrection At A World War I Cemetery In Olsztyn (Northern Poland & Berlin #47d)

Sometimes when you go looking for one thing, you find something different that is much more fascinating. My travel companion and I were at another cemetery in our search to find one associated with the Battle of Tannenberg. This cemetery would not be one of them. Instead, it was different from any German military cemetery either of us had seen before. The second we set foot in the Military Cemetery of German Army Soldiers in Olsztyn, I had a creepy feeling that time had turned back a hundred years. The cemetery was in excellent condition. It was nothing like the dilapidated Olsztyn Military Cemetery we had visited the evening before. Here the grounds were well kept, the area around the graves cleared of any debris, the markers and crosses looked new. This cemetery was lovingly cared for.

If it had been 1923 rather than 2023, I imagine the cemetery would have been in much the same condition. The only difference would have been that the graves of German soldiers killed in the Second World War would not have been present. A hundred years later, East Prussia did not exist. It was a figment of the historical imagination. We were standing on the northern edge of Olsztyn rather than Allenstein. This was Poland not Germany, Slavic soil instead of Teutonic territory. Everything had changed and still the military cemetery remained. The lost wars, the forced population transfers, the fear and violence were all gone. Here the grounds were well kept, and the markers looked new. Nothing could have been more peaceful and disconcerting.

Ever present past – Grave markers at Military Cemetery in Olsztyn

Teutonic Tourism – One Last Triumph
The period between the First and Second World Wars was the waning days of East Prussia. No one knew it at the time, but the end was closer than anyone might have imagined. There was a palpable sense of worry that East Prussia was slipping away. The province had been severed from the rest of Germany by the Treaty of Versailles.  There was nothing much that could be done about this in the years which followed the war. The Weimar Republic was reeling from failed revolution and hyper-inflation. East Prussia was left to fend for itself out on the eastern frontier of Germany. The province was surrounded by Slavs. East Prussia’s insecurity manifested in a Teutonic superiority complex. One that patriotic Germans in other parts of the country were more than glad to stimulate.

Many Germans felt compelled to visit East Prussia as a show of support. With the province disconnected from Germany by the Polish corridor, tourism was crucial in keeping East Prussia in the hearts and minds of all Germans. During the interwar years, these visits went from being a nationalistic to a Nazi experience. The young and impressionable were among those who were taken around the countryside to instill a sense of Teutonic pride. Much of this was centered around the accomplishments of their armed forces during World War I. The most prominent stops were associated with the Battle of Tannenberg, including military cemeteries filled with German soldiers who had fallen in that battle. There were also many other military cemeteries holding the remains of German soldiers who died on the Eastern Front. German youth could pay their respects to the fallen not only with a visit, but also by helping keep the cemeteries in immaculate condition.

All that remains – Grave marker at a military cemetery in Olsztyn

Seeing & Believing – Restoring Relations 
German nationalistic activities in East Prussia came to an end during the Second World War as fighting on the Eastern Front became the top priority. When the Red Army invaded East Prussia during the final year of the war, German military cemeteries were threatened with vandalism and destruction. There were so many cemeteries that many of them survived. These were hidden away in rural backwaters, or on the edges of larger towns where they were easily ignored. After the war, most of East Prussia became part of Poland. There was no love lost between Poles and Germans due to the many atrocities committed by the latter in Poland during the war. Poles were not interested in keeping up German military cemeteries. They were a symbol of German militarism that had destroyed large parts of Poland. The Poles focused on rebuilding their nation. This did not involve upkeep of German cemeteries.

In postwar Germany (both East and West), nationalism was just as dirty a word as Naziism. The cemeteries which had been so well kept during the interwar years soon turned derelict. They were forgotten and neglected. A collective indifference replaced the immediate postwar Polish anger. The cemeteries survived, but in a state of disrepair. With the collapse of communism in 1989, the upkeep of German military cemeteries improved. Associations in Germany worked to restore these. The Poles no longer seemed to mind. It did hurt matters that former East Prussia became a tourist draw for Germans, who now could return to soak up a bit of nostalgia and reflect upon what had been lost.

My travel companion and I saw this for ourselves as we walked around the clearing reading the markers and observing the crosses placed on what was now considered sacred ground. There was even a signboard in both German and Polish. The heritage was being shared across ethnic boundaries. This was an incredible turn in fortunes. The rancor of past disputes had faded, the important thing now was to preserve a semblance of the sacrifices so many German soldiers, especially during the First World War, had made. Anyone wanting to get an idea of just how far German-Polish relations has come, could take one look at this cemetery and see.

A clearing in the woods – Grave markers at a military cemetery in Olsztyn

Deeper Meanings – A Penetrating Silence
I must admit that this German Military Cemetery could not match the aesthetics of the Olsztyn Military Cemetery in the city center. That one had a pervasive sense of loss with its decaying markers and unsightly grounds. This cemetery had the opposite effect. It felt clinical, planned, and a bit sterile. This was why it left me feeling disconcerted. World Wars I and II were nasty affairs and Germany was responsible for much of that nastiness. This well-kept cemetery did not betray any of that. It was respectful and reverent, without being nationalistic. Those buried on these grounds had been well served by history. There was no longer rancor here, only a peaceful and penetrating silence. It was always meant to be this way, at least until another war got in the way. It took a long time to resurrect respect for German soldiers who lived and died in East Prussia. Their markers and names were all that was left. That would have to be enough.

Click here for: Missed Opportunity – Reszel’s Place In History (Northern Poland & Berlin #48)

Casualty Report – Visiting A World War I Cemetery In Olsztyn (Northern Poland & Berlin #47c)

Another day, another cemetery. My travel companion and I were still searching for a cemetery associated with the Battle of Tannenberg. Despite driving for hours and hours across the battlefield in rural Warmia we were unable to locate one. Our only discovery was dubious spots on digital maps. This exercise in futility seemed to finally be at an end on our final evening in Olsztyn when we explored its military cemetery. There were plenty of World War I German soldiers buried there, but they died after the war. The Battle of Tannenberg was a distant memory for defeated German soldiers by that point. We were just as defeated by the idea of finding another cemetery. Night fell and our stay in Olsztyn was almost at an end. The cemetery search looked like it would have to wait until another time.

Resting in peace – Graves of German soldiers on the edge of Olsztyn

Vanishing Graves – Ghosts of The Eastern Front
After visiting the Olsztyn Military Cemetery, I was still unsatisfied with our failure to find a single grave, let alone a cemetery for those who fell in a battle that claimed the lives of between 45,000 – 90,000 soldiers. I was baffled by how we spent an entire day traveling around a World War I battlefield and did not find a cemetery. This was the opposite of my experience visiting battlefields on the western front in Belgium and Northern France. In those cases, it felt like all I did was visit cemeteries. Scholars have long noted the differences between the Western and Eastern Fronts of World War I. One was a slog, the other a war of movement. Too little space in the west, lost in space in the east. As I was discovering, this extended to cemeteries. The cemeteries of Tannenberg were scattered across the landscape, hidden by nature and neglect.

Our cemetery search was now concluding. We were going back to Gdansk the next day. There was really no reason to take a detour in search of another cemetery, except for the fact that I just could not let this failure go. Late on the last evening in Olsztyn, I began to search the internet for military cemeteries around Olsztyn. I hoped there would be one that we had overlooked, perhaps on the edge of town. Sure enough, we were in luck. A World War I era cemetery happened to be located on the northern outskirts of the city. This was a bit distant from where the Battle of Tannenberg was fought, but it was worth a visit. Access would be easy since the cemetery was right off one of the main highways out of Olsztyn.

Speaking in tongues – Signage at World War I military cemetery on the edge of Olsztyn

Confronting Reality – Moments of Mortality
Going to cemeteries is not for everyone. The idea of visiting a cemetery sounds morbid to most people, and I can hardly blame them. Cemeteries evoke sadness, loss, and grief. They remind us of our own mortality. Death is as much a part of life as birth, but no one wants to confront that uncomfortable truth. Cemeteries force us to confront the reality we spend most of our life trying to ignore. Somewhere deep down inside all of us live with the knowledge that we will not live forever. A cemetery takes this notion from the abstract and makes it concrete. The moment of mortality will come sooner or later. Most people (myself included) would rather Ignore the sooner and try to forget about the later.

That is easier said than done when you step inside a cemetery. Particularly one that is associated with war.  Suddenly, we are reminded of those whose lives were cut short by events that were beyond their control. Surviving the battlefield takes a combination of luck and skill. Surviving the barracks is more often about luck. Until recently, many more soldiers died of disease than wounds incurred on the field of battle. Hence the graves we had seen earlier at the Olsztyn Military Cemetery where those German soldiers likely succumbed to the Spanish Flu.

War is an awful aspect of the human experience. And some wars are worse than others. The First World War was one of the worst in world history.  Olsztyn suffered many losses on both the battle front and home front. Any cemetery in or around the city is an expression of this harsh reality. The dates etched on headstones are quite literally dead giveaways. At the Olsztyn Military Cemetery, I spent as much time reading dates as I did the names. Chronology provides context into what might have led to a soldier’s death. The one thing I had learned so far was that Tannenberg was only the most obvious killer. There were plenty of smaller skirmishes and assorted maladies that could cause loss of a life. Death stalked this land during the war and its immediate aftermath. Thousands were unable to escape the darkest of destinies.

The soldiers who fought on the Eastern Front will never be famous. Few will ever speak their name. History books only remember them as statistics. Their legacies are buried in the same soil where they fell in battle. It is easy to forget that those World War I soldiers buried in and around Olsztyn were people just like you and me. They had hopes, dreams, and desires. Those laid to rest may have spoken a different language and observed a different culture, but they were faced with mortality just like the rest of. us. What makes these lost lives so tragic is that they were never able to realize their potential. That is one of the most disturbing aspects of visiting a World War I cemetery. They deferred their dreams and put life on hold to march into the maelstrom. Once they joined the ranks, there was no going back.

Light & shadow – Germans soldiers graves at World War I military cemetery

Dark Discovery – A Peaceful Setting
Finding the World War I era cemetery on the northern edge of Olsztyn took only ten minutes by car. There was a parking area off the roadside. Walking trails not attached to the cemetery led outward from the parking lot. Locals came here for a respite from the city. Scents of foliage and sounds of nature were pervasive. We had to cross the road in order to access the cemetery. It was rather secluded despite its proximity to the city. Cemeteries have a way of annihilating the outside world. This one was no different. Light filtered through the trees and the silence was deafening. This was a place of peace, but in the shadows could be seen the results of war.

Click here for: Ghosts of an East Prussian Past – Reverence & Resurrection At A World War I Cemetery In Olsztyn (Northern Poland & Berlin #47d)

Funereal Atmosphere – Olsztyn Military Cemetery (Northern Poland & Berlin #47b)

Our search for a military cemetery associated with the Battle of Tannenberg looked like it would end successfully. In Olsztyn, my travel companion and I thought we had finally found one. Walking up to the section of the Olsztyn Military Cemetery with the oldest graves, weathered headstones were lined up beneath the shade of trees. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, the light faded as dusk cast a veil of darkness over the scene. The air was crisp and cold. The scents of nature could be detected in the air. The cemetery was a place where soldiers rested in perpetual peace. From the looks of the grounds few came to pay their respects.

The cemetery had been left slowly to degrade on its own. The other section, where Poles who had died during World War II were buried was in a little better shape. Some of the headstones and monuments were well kept. A few looked as though they had been relatively recent additions. Nevertheless, the cemetery’s lack of maintenance made everything look worse. This neglect was benign, but the effect over time was slow devastation. I had the distinct feeling that no one in Olsztyn knew quite what to do with the place.

Confronting the past – Headstones of German soldiers at Olsztyn Military Cemetery

Stinging Suspicion – Avoidance Syndrome
The cemetery was sad, but not in the usual way where visitors contemplate the loss of individuals. The sadness here came from a realization of cumulative loss. The Germans were on the losing end of World War I and the Poles were on the losing end of World War II. The cemetery was a consistent marker of defeat. This was more than soldiers losing their lives, it was about empires and nations losing their way. Every tragedy has its moments of glory. Those were nowhere to be found in this cemetery. The soldiers buried here had been unlucky in war, but at least they did not have to suffer what came later. Nazism and communism had done a great deal of harm to the societies these soldiers fought for.

I had the stinging suspicion that the cemetery was neglected not so much because people did not want to honor the dead, as much as they did not want to be reminded of what came after them. People practiced the art of avoidance to cultivate historical amnesia. Thus, the cemetery was allowed to degrade and the worse it got, the more it reminded anyone who stepped inside of what followed upon these soldier’s losing their lives. The place was unspeakably sad. It felt like entering a funeral home to pay last respects to another era of Eastern Europe’s tragic history. There was no one to greet you, Instead the visitor is confronted with silence and a profound sense of loss. Visiting the cemetery was a difficult experience, one that I imagine no one repeats unless an ancestor was buried here.

Present & accounted for – Headstone of German World War I era soldier

Plague Columns – Dates & Destinies
My friend and I spent most of our time in the cemetery looking at the graves of German soldiers. We were surprised to find that dates of death on the headstones – at least the ones we could read – post-dated the Battle of Tannenberg by almost five years. Olsztyn was vastly affected by the battle. The city was occupied by Russian forces and then retaken by the Germans, but the battle took place in the countryside, not in the city. The German soldiers buried here may or may not have fought at Tannenberg. Judging by the dates on these markers, their mortal wounds were the product of a modern plague rather than modern war. Most of the soldiers died after the war, most likely from an outbreak of the Spanish Flu which spared very few nations. It is estimated that 200,000 Germans died of the Spanish Flu. Soldiers in close proximity to one another were particularly susceptible to contracting the flu. The war was over, but the suffering was not.

Many soldiers survived the battlefield only to suffer an equally cruel fate at the hands of a viral killer. As if Germany in the final years of the war, did not have enough to worry about with revolution and economic turmoil, the Spanish Flu added to their woes. Death that did not come on the battlefield, still stalked them in in the war’s aftermath. This was unexpected, but not altogether surprising. War is a very strange phenomenon, with its own internal logic. It often defies expectation and leads to unintended consequences. For some soldiers, the battlefield was safer than the barracks. Those in Olsztyn were far removed from the front after the war, but they still suffered casualties. Their destines were cut short by death. The only public memory of them that still existed was in this cemetery, one which most people ignored. The soldiers were remembered, but just barely.

Still standing – Headstone of German World War I era soldier

Mortal Remains – The Secrets Never To Be Told
As we walked from marker to marker, I noticed the names on each one. This made me wonder who exactly were these men?  What were their dreams of life after the war? How were their families notified of their deaths. Who came to their funerals? Were they fellow soldiers, officers, or a few family members? What were those ceremonies like? Anyone who has ever attended a burial ceremony knows just how difficult they can be. Did those at the funeral think about their own mortality, considering themselves lucky to be alive? Or was their anger about a war fought in vain that took so many lives. The Olsztyn Military Cemetery raised numerous questions while not providing any clear answers. These men gave their lives, and we have little idea what their individual lives were like.

This cemetery seemed far removed from the bloody fields of battle that surrounded Olsztyn. They did have one thing in common. The soil on those battlefields, like the soil in this cemetery, held many secrets that would never be told. The cemetery was haunted by the long shadow of World War I. Even the Poles buried in the other part of the cemetery would not have died in a second worldwide conflagration if not for the first one. Everyone within the cemetery’s confines had been adversely affected by World War I. The soldiers lost more than battles; they lost their lives. The true value of Olsztyn Military Cemetery was that it reminded me of that. There really is so much and nothing more to say.

Coming soon: Casualty Report – Visiting A World War I Cemetery In Olsztyn #47c (Northern Poland & Berlin)

Paying Respects – Olsztyn Military Cemetery – (Northern Poland & Berlin #47a)

“Imagine ending up in a place like this. That is why it is better to be cremated.” Those were the words of my travel companion as we stood in Olsztyn Military Cemetery. The sun was about to set and noises from the surrounding residential area faded away. We stood in a fenced off military cemetery that looked like it had seen better days. In this case, the better days were eighty years or more in the past. Before us were headstones of German soldiers. They were worn, covered with moss and grime. Many of the names and dates were hard to read. The markers had not been cleaned in years. Clumps of uneven grass and weeds grew throughout the area. There was a melancholic, mournful air about the cemetery.

Distant memory – Monument in the Olsztyn Military Cemetery

Blighted Memory – The Losing Side
The Olsztyn Military Cemetery is what ending up on the losing end of a World War looks like a century later. There was a second, more recent section of the cemetery with the graves of Poles and others who had died during the Second World War. This had some evocative communist era monuments which were now crumbling. Because of the change of system in 1989, this part of the cemetery had also fallen into disrepair. There were flowers placed by some of the headstones. The natural ones were wilting, the plastic ones were weathered. The overall scene was one of neglect. Imperialism and communism had once been blood enemies, now they were left languishing side by side. The soldiers caught in the crossfire were laid in eternal rest not far from one another.

For a couple of Americans – one of whom is a Marine Corps veteran – it was hard to look at this derelict military cemetery. In the United States, national military cemeteries are scared spaces, kept in pristine condition. The grounds are immaculately landscaped, the white headstones in perfect symmetry, respect and reverence are observed at all times. The Olsztyn Military Cemetery had none of this. The reality laid out in front of us was stark. Losing a war has consequences, even for the dead. No one could look at this cemetery and not feel that the soldier’s interred here had died in vain. Their memory was blighted by the poor conditions of the headstones and grounds. This was a reminder that no matter what the cause and how hard one fights, soldiers on the losing side often suffer the indignity of being forgotten.

Anyone looking to learn about the 20^th century history of Olsztyn (Allenstein) during and after the World Wars would do well to visit its military cemetery. The cemetery was the equivalent of dusty archives placed on a remote shelf and left there for decades on end with few taking any notice. The history outlined by the cemetery had long since gone out of style. Ironically, Teutonic imperialism and Polish freedom fighters were given the same sad sendoff. Casualties of world wars were left lying on opposing sides of the cemetery. They had long since ceased to face off with one another in life, so now they did it in death. They were permanently relegated to the funereal equivalent of the dustbin of history.

Worn & weathered – Headstone marker at the Olsztyn Military Cemetery

Search Results – Ghost Hunters
The military cemetery in Olsztyn was never on our list of places to visit in the area. We figured that there were plenty of military cemeteries in the surrounding region that we would be able to find. Our day had been devoted to visiting sites associated with the Battle of Tannenberg. My travel companion and I visited the Tannenberg Memorial’s ruins on the edge of Olsztynek (Hohenstein), the Samsonov Monument and a drive by photo shoot in Frygnowo (Frogenau) of Hindenburg and Ludendorff’s headquarters during the battle. The only sites we had been unable to find were two different military cemeteries marked on Google Maps of the area. These were right off the road, so it made since to stop in and visit them. The first between Olsztyn and Olsztynek resulted in us aimlessly wandering around an unsightly field. We searched in vain for anything resembling headstones and found nothing. The next site was in a small village, but our search also turned up nothing. The failure to visit a military cemetery was a gaping hole in our itinerary. It was baffling because the soldiers killed in the fighting at Tannenberg were buried on the battlefield. We had driven across much of where the battle had been fought and still were unable to find a single cemetery.

It should not have been difficult to find at least one military cemetery, but we did not have any luck. The problem was that after East Prussia became part of Poland, the cemeteries associated with the battlefield were neglected. This neglect, whether willful or not, led to the cemeteries becoming overgrown and forgotten. One of the stranger aspects of this neglect was that in some ways it helped preserve them. Because the cemeteries were largely in remote areas, they were not prominent. This kept them from being vandalized or obliterated like so many other sites associated with Germans in East Prussia. Nature slowly consumed many of them, but weeds and brush can be cleared away. All we had to do was find one cemetery. Until late in the day, that had proved impossible.

An act of remembrance – Flowers in front of a marker at the Olsztyn Military Cemetery

Benign Neglect – Looking The Other Way
To find a military cemetery we ended up where we had started the day in Olsztyn. With a couple of hours of daylight left, we still had time to make a final discovery. After dinner, I began searching to see if Olsztyn had one. The odds were good, since fighting raged not far from the city. Sure enough, I located Olsztyn’s military cemetery online. While the cemetery was only a short five-minute drive from our hotel, it was hidden from all but the locals. There was nothing historical of note in that area of the city. This was not a place tourists would ever visit. Instead, the surrounding streets were packed with homes full of families. This was a place where people got on with living their lives. By the looks of the cemetery, they ignored it. At best, the cemetery suffered from benign neglect, at worst willful indifference. Either way, the cemetery had managed to survive. That made it worth visiting. Our first stop inside the cemetery would be the graves of Germans killed during and after during the war.

Coming soon: Funereal Atmosphere – Olsztyn Military Cemetery (Northern Poland & Berlin #47b)

Falling In Love At Seven In The Morning – Romance In Olsztyn (Northern Poland & Berlin #42)

The four-day, three-night stay in Olsztyn (German: Allenstein) was coming to an end. I could not help but feel a twinge of sadness. I did not want to leave Olsztyn because I knew it would never leave me. The city had grown on me from the moment my travel companion and I set foot in it. We used Olsztyn as our base for traveling to sites associated with the Battle of Tannenberg, the Wolf’s Lair, the Grunwald Battlefield, and the spectacularly quaint town of Rezsel. What we did not do was spend enough time in Olsztyn. Our experience with the city was mostly limited to eating out and driving around its cleanly swept streets. There was one astonishing exception.

My experience with Olsztyn was a bit more than that of my friend. Each morning while he got ready for our next adventure, I crawled out of the bed and stumbled into the city center looking for a bakery. It was my job to find breakfast. This involved following the aroma of freshly baked bread wafting through the streets. It inevitably led to a bakery where I bought pastries and pillow soft, sweet rolls covered in a light sprinkling of powdered sugar. This breakfast of champions was washed down with coffee and soft drinks. Caffeine was our chosen steroid. This propelled us on our way and left us with precious little time in Olsztyn.

Fortunately, I was able to take several detours on those morning strolls to the bakery. I realized that due to the compressed size of Olsztyn’s Old Town, I could take shortened walking tours of the city. After picking up a batch of baked goods, I would follow a longer route back to the accommodation. This involved walking through the city center, stepping inside any churches that were open and walking dreamily through the streets imagining what it must be like to live in Olsztyn. These wanderings around the Old Town were seductive. There was a great deal to see in a relatively compact area. One morning, I strolled up to the Castle of Warmian Cathedral Chapter. I was the only one who had availed myself of this opportunity. It is not often that I get the Old World all to myself.

Nature & history – Looking up in Olsztyn

Morning Stroll – The Meandering Course
A clutch of spectacular churches that rivalled those to be found in larger European cities were one of the highlights in Olsztyn (population: 169,000). These churches were much larger than one might expect for a city the size of Olsztyn. They represented the importance of religion both to its former German inhabitants and present-day Polish ones. Though world wars raged all around Olsztyn, the city had suffered nowhere near the damage of larger cities in Poland. Thus, many of the city’s most impressive buildings were the product of reinterpretation rather than reconstruction. What was once German was now Polish, but there was no hiding the Teutonic in the city’s architectural wonders. Sizably spectacular, they radiated civic and spiritual pride.

Olsztyn seemed to have it all or at least everything I longed to see in a smallish city. There was the town square, quaint, neat, and historic. The Lyna River flowed below the Old Town with a walking path that followed the waterway’s meandering course. Nature and culture were beautifully integrated. Looking up through the florescent greenery of trees in their full springtime glory, I could see the church spires that were Olsztyn’s version of skyscrapers. My imagination began to run wild, seeing nature’s bounty rising in the shadows of history. The morning walks were one of the highlights of the entire trip for me. I felt like I was stealing a march on Olsztyn’s architectural history. By doing so, the city was sharing its secret with me. I had its architectural wonders all to myself.

Soaring spires – Castle of Warmian Bishops in Olsztyn

Sunny Side Up – A Wonderful Life
A city’s personality has as much to do with its architecture as its people. Considering the scale of Olsztyn’s buildings in relation to its size, it was a spectacular example of a city that punched well above its weight. There was no doubt in my mind that Olsztyn had a high opinion of itself. I shared that opinion. The city literally rose to the occasion. During those morning walks, I could feel myself falling in love. I went from dreamy to dazed. I sensed something else I had read about the city, its prosperity. The roads were immaculate, public transport options prolific and a city center that was spotlessly clean. Whatever social problems there were in Olsztyn, they were hidden from view. The city felt like an Eastern European version of a wonderful life. Olsztyn was an astonishing example of an enhanced reality.

In those moments, I could not think of a more pleasant place to visit or live. It was obvious that Poland’s 21^st century prosperity had been put to good use in Olsztyn. This was a well-ordered world. Everything was to be found in its rightful place. Pastel houses, cobblestone streets, a skyline of spires, this was as close to perfection as I have ever seen. If it sounds like I had fallen in love with the city, that would not be an exaggeration. Olsztyn was an unexpected joy, an acquired taste that I digested each morning on those short strolls. A movable feast of architectural and historical aesthetics that put a skip in my step, opened my mind, and captured my heart. The feeling was addictive and delightful. The feeling must have been mutual because Olsztyn showed its bright and sunny side at the dawning of each new day.

Following along – Lyna River in Olsztyn

State of Trance – A Revealing Nature
Olsztyn was the first place I have ever fallen in love during the morning. In my life, romances have always started at school or with a social engagement. These experiences were in the afternoon or evening with people rather than places. Olsztyn was different. Walking through those streets in a state of trance felt like waking up to find myself wandering around a fantasy. Here was the history I had so longed to see, there was a church spire that tickled the sky, each historic building looked as though it had always been there waiting for me. The walk from the town square to the castle offered a path from present to past. Olsztyn was everything I never knew I wanted until it was revealed to me. This illicit love affair at seven in the morning stole my heart. I could have stayed in Olsztyn forever. Maybe I did because it feels like I never left.

Coming soon: Ready For Takeoff – Poland’s Airport Highways (Northern Poland & Berlin #43)

More Than Just A Name – Tannenberg & Frogenau (Northern Poland & Berlin #40)

At the most elementary level, a battle comes down to its name. This is the first and only thing 99% of the population will know about it. A name establishes the initial framework for how a battle will be remembered. That is, if it is remembered at all. Tens of thousands of soldiers may have been killed, the commanders may have been brilliant or abysmal, the battle may have led to geopolitical changes or stasis, but only military historians, a handful of academics and history enthusiasts will concern themselves with those details. The closest contact that everyone else will have with a battle is its name. The words of which may pass from their lips, be attached to signs, posted on maps, or become a byword for where something historic happened. The right name can be a starting point for a battle taking on a life all its own. A less resonant name resigns a battle to anonymity. They say we should not judge a book by its cover, but we do. By the same token, we should not judge a battle by its name, but we will. There is no clearer case of this superficial phenomenon than the Battle of Tannenberg.

Brilliant strategist – Max Hoffman (Credit: Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-2008-0278)

Naming & Shaming – What’s In A Name
Battles are marketed just like products. They must be sold, or at the very least justified to their constituents. If a battle’s name is to have historical resonance, then it must have a recognizable meaning that people can identify with. For Germans during and after World War I, “Tannenberg” was much more than just a name. It was superiority and vengeance, Teutonic might triumphant over Slav inferiors. Naming the battle Tannenberg was a step in a decidedly nationalistic direction. The name was a conscious choice that would have ramifications for years to come. There were other options, but these were decidedly lacking.

Tell me which resonates more, the Battle of Frogenau or the Battle of Tannenberg? The former sounds awkward, while the latter flows. To an English speaker, Frogenau (Polish: Frygnowo) sounds like a stream crawling with amphibious creatures. Tannenberg sounds stylish, like un upscale store. The sound of Frogenau does not resonate, it grates. Tannenberg has an elegant refinement about it. This comparison may seem esoteric, but naming the battle fought between the German Imperial Army and the Russian Tsarist Army in August 1914 was serious business. The German high command did not take the battle’s name lightly. They decided on a name that would bolster Germany’s sense of superiority, while righting what they considered to be a historical wrong.

Friend & foe – Max Hoffman (on the right) with Erich Ludendorff

Historical Resonance – Hoffman’s Suggestion
By 1914 it had been over five hundred years since Polish and Lithuanian forces defeated the Teutonic Knights at the Battle of Grunwald. That defeat sent the Teutonic Knights into long term decline. they would never recover the power or prominence they had enjoyed in northeastern Europe prior to the battle. The Teutonic Knights were the spiritual forebears to the Prussians who unified Germany. The Teutonic Knights’ heartland was East Prussia. This region later became a frontier for the German Empire, one where they had to practice vigilance in guarding against an attack by Slavs. The latter were not only next door in Russia, but in Germany’s own backyard with a sizable population of ethnic Poles in East Prussia. In the leadup to World War I, German nationalism was resurgent. The Germans would love nothing more than to show the Slavs who was superior. That opportunity arrived after war broke out in August 1914.

The Russian Tsarist Army invaded East Prussia, laying waste to farms, taking whatever supplies or household goods they wanted and committing atrocities against civilians. It was up to the German Army to stop them. In the final, broiling hot days of summer, the German 8th Army surrounded and destroyed the Russian 2nd Army. One of the main architects of that victory was Max Hoffman who made a unique suggestion to his immediate superior Erich Ludendorff. When Ludendorff was about to issue some orders on August 28th, Hoffman recommended that instead of using Frogenau on the dispatch, he should replace it with Tannenberg. Frogenau was where the German headquarters were located. Tannenberg was on the periphery of the battle. For Hoffman, Tannenberg was close enough in proximity to Frogenau for it to be used instead.

Gone & almost forgotten – Grave of Max Hoffman (Credit: Jorg Zagel)

Taking Credit – Reaping The Rewards of Tannenberg
Tannenberg was Hoffman’s choice because it was the German name for the Battle of Grunwald. That medieval battle had been fought close to the village of Tannenberg in 1410. Hoffman’s suggestion was a stroke of genius because it gave the battle a historical resonance it would otherwise not have had. The village of Tannenberg was only five kilometers away from Frogenau. Ludendorff and Hindenburg also claimed credit for naming the battle after Tannenberg. The two commanders got the lion’s share of credit for the victory at Tannenberg even though Hoffman did as much as anyone to mastermind it. In the same regard, they reaped the rewards of avenging the Teutonic Knights’ defeat and reminding everyone of that accomplishment with the name Tannenberg. Historical evidence shows that this was also a masterstroke by Hoffman. Some commentators say a more accurate name for the Battle would have been Frogenau or Allenstein (Polish: Olsztyn). Another choice might have been Hohenstein (Polish: Olsztynek) which sounds so absurd that it is memorable.

Unfortunately for Hoffman, despite his strategic and tactical brilliance, he would aways be a mere footnote lost in the shadows of Germany’s dynamic, dictatorial, and subsequently defeated duo of Hindenburg and Ludendorff. Hoffman conducted multiple successful campaigns during the war. He also was the chief negotiator for the Germans side at the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk. Everywhere Hoffman went, he succeeded during the war. He had little use for Hindenburg and Ludendorff after the war. They felt much the same. There was not enough credit to go around for Tannenberg. Hindenburg received the lion’s share of the credit and became the great German wartime hero. This would help elevate him to the presidency of the Weimar Republic in 1925. Ludendorff descended into conspiracy and extreme right-wing politics. As for Hoffman, he lived out his life in relative obscurity. The man who had done so much to make Tannenberg a word on everyone’s lips was largely forgotten.   

Click here for: Hitler’s Hideout – Into The Wolf’s Lair (Northern Poland & Berlin #41a)

Leading From The Dairy Farm – Hindenburg at Frygnowo (Northern Poland & Berlin #39b)

Frygnowo was larger than the proverbial wide spot in the road, but not by much. I did not have high expectations for a village that was little more than a pixelated dot on a digital map. The present-day anonymity of Frygnowo was deceptive because it had once been in the crosshairs of history. During the interwar period, German nationalists deified several places in Frygnowo (Frogenau) due to their association with the Battle of Tannenberg. This East Prussian backwater was the setting for General Paul von Hindenburg’s greatest military feat. Truth and legend were interwoven to create a picture of Hindenburg standing on a hillside during the battle while orchestrating the German forces’ destruction of the Russian 2nd Army.

Hindenburg’s brilliant strategy was said to have guided the Germans to their greatest victory during the war. At least that was what propagandists wanted the German people to believe. Those who bothered to study the battle in depth would have found this tale less than truthful. The plan for Tannenberg had been drawn up by Max Hoffman, while Erich Ludendorff had been by Hindenburg’s side during the battle. Those were mere details that need not detain the nationalists and later the Nazis. Hindenburg was the designated hero of Tannenberg and Frygnowo was given a lead role in postwar propaganda. 

Roadside surprise – Hindenburg’s headquarters in Frygnowo (Credit: Andree Werder)

Sacred Sites – The Tannenberg Ride
Historical truth is not black and white. It comes in countless shades of gray. History is a messy business and battlefields are cesspools. The narrative of Hindenburg’s role at Tannenberg is a little too neat and clean. The bold master stroke by a preeminent commander is all too often fictional. Hindenburg carried out a well-organized plan during the battle, but he was also aided by numerous Russian mistakes and a good deal of luck. This was bending the truth to fit a nationalist narrative. That did not matter with interwar German propaganda. It focused on presenting a heroic image of German valor and victory during World War I. This was done to erase the blame and shame of the Treaty of Versailles. Tannenberg was utilized as the prototypical example of German military might. The result was an eternal image of General Hindenburg surveying the battlefield at Tannenberg from a hillside at Frygnowo.

Rather than directing the battle from a hillside, Hindenburg and Ludendorff spent time during the battle in the confines of a dairy farm. The dairy farm that served as their headquarters was less venerated than an oak tree Hindenburg planted after the war. The Hindenburg oak, along with a large rock inscribed with the names of Hindenburg and Ludendorff, marked the spot where the victorious duo carried out their master plan. German tourists were encouraged to visit these sanctified spots as part of the Tannenbergfart (Tannenberg Ride), a sprawling battlefield tour that took in the Tannenberg Memorial on the edge of Olsztynek, the Samsonov Monument where the Russian commanding general shot himself and the sites at Frygnowo.

Hero of Tannenberg – General Paul von Hindenburg

Sight Unseen – Blink & You’ll Miss It
My travel companion and I had spent the day driving around the countryside roughly following the Tannenbergfahrt or at least what was left of it. Frygnowo was the last site we wanted to visit. While driving into Frygnowo we were immediately on the lookout for the headquarters building which had been part of the dairy farm. According to a picture I found online it was still standing. Trying to find that recent photographic memory would be easier because Frygnowo was a small village with fewer buildings. This increased our chance of finding the headquarters. I assumed that the building would be unmarked. Frogenau became Frygnowo after this part of East Prussia was given to Poland after the Second World War.

Subsequently, the Hindenburg oak was chopped down and the rock monument uprooted, the inscription erased and reutilized in another village to denote the Battle of Grunwald. Polish martial achievements now trumped Teutonic military might. The oppressor became the oppressed.  The only reason Hindenburg’s headquarters was allowed to remain standing was probably because the structure was still useful. Just because Hindenburg and Ludendorff set up shop there during the battle made it no less useful for utilitarian purposes by Poles who later moved into the area after ethnic Germans were expelled. The trick would be trying to find it.

The phrase, “blink and you’ll miss it” comes to mind when I recall finding the farmhouse. We were in and out of Frygnowo in a matter of minutes. This was maddening because in such a small village the headquarters could have been easy to find. What neither my friend nor I realized was that we had unwittingly driven right by it when we first entered Frygnowo. This only became clear after we drove out of the village and then doubled back on the same road. Fortunately, traffic was light so we could drive at a slow speed while comparing buildings in Frygnowo with a photo of the farmhouse.

Nationalist narrative – Idealized painting of Hindenburg & Ludendorff during the Battle of Tannenberg (Credit: Hugo Vogel)

Dreams & Possibilities – Return to Frygnowo
We soon arrived back at the junction of two roads in Frygnowo. It was here that we noticed the farmhouse. Unwittingly, we had driven by it the first time. A fence along the roadside and the building behind it were the exact same as those in the photo. We had found the headquarters. There was nothing denoting its historical importance. I surmised that it was now a private residence, one that was off limits to history-seeking enthusiasts. The closest we could get was to do a drive by photo shoot. My friend rolled down his passenger side window and snapped several photos with his iPhone. I found this act slightly surreptitious and strangely thrilling. Our goal of finding several sites associated with Tannenberg had been achieved.

Click here for: More Than Just A Name – Tannenberg & Frogenau (Northern Poland & Berlin #40)

The Magic of Memory – Hindenburg’s Headquarters at Frgynowo (Northern Poland & Berlin #39a)

Certain travel moments remain in my memory, and I have no idea why. These are never the expected wow moments at famous attractions. Great expectations often lead to let downs. Standing before the Eiffel Tower I felt complete indifference, Unter Den Linden was forgettable, and Vienna felt like Disney with a Danube. These less than monumental moments reminded me of what it feels like when there is nothing left to wait for. They were the emotional equivalent of Christmas morning after all the presents have been opened. I expected to be thrilled. Instead, I was left asking myself “Is that it?” What I have come to realize in my travels is that the moments which live with me the longest often occur in strange settings. This can lead to experiences that make a lasting impression.

Even when such impressions are made, they sometimes do not come back to me until weeks, months or years later. When they do, the memories can seem more like a dream than a reality. Some of my most vivid travel memories include a jog through the darkened streets of Sofia, Bulgaria, several hours before dawn on my last morning in the city. The young lady I saw talking romantically on her cell phone while sitting across from the Latin Bridge in Sarajevo, a place famously associated with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Her personal life took precedence over historical resonance. The cleanest swept streets I have ever seen in an Austrian village not far from the epic roars of takeoffs and landings at Vienna’s airport. I learned more about Austrians from those sidewalks than reading hundreds of pages of their history in books.

Open road – Entering Frygnowo

Going Remote – Indelible Impressions
Even when such impressions are made, they sometimes do not come back to me until weeks, months or years later. When they do, the memories can seem more like a dream than a reality. Some of my most vivid travel memories include a jog through the darkened streets of Sofia, Bulgaria, several hours before dawn on my last morning in the city. The young lady I saw talking romantically on her cell phone while sitting across from the Latin Bridge in Sarajevo, a place famously associated with the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand. Her personal life took precedence over historical resonance. The cleanest swept streets I have ever seen in an Austrian village not far from the epic roars of takeoffs and landings at Vienna’s airport. I learned more about Austrians from those sidewalks than reading hundreds of pages of their history in books

The trip to northern Poland was filled with these same kinds of obscure memory making moments. The discovery in a shopping mall bookshop of a long-sought map to Warmia, a great big Polish man at Westerplatte who looked like the very essence of grim. up until he said hello to me. Crossing over a canal by car in Stutthof, the joy of finding a well-stocked shop open along a side street during a national holiday. The list is long and anything but illustrious. The meanings of these moments satisfy something megalomaniacal in me. They solidified as enduring memories in my mind. The most baffling of these memories is also the one that made the greatest impression upon me.

The sun had just begun to make its long, slow descent towards the horizon. Dusk was still several hours away, but it felt like the day was done. Our tour of sites associated with the Battle of Tannenberg had been mostly successful with visits earlier in the day to the Samsonov Monument and remnants of the Tannenberg Memorial. There were also times when the searches were futile. Specifically, when it came to cemeteries where soldiers who fought in the battle were buried. This resulted in aimless wandering around scraggly fields and woodlands. After a mid-afternoon visit to the Grunwald Battlefield, where the famous medieval battle between the Teutonic Knights and Polish-Lithuanian forces took place, we began the journey back to Olsztyn.

Staking a historic claim -The Hindenburg oak

Heroic Figure – Hindenburg at Frygnowo
On a whim, my travel companion and I decided to visit the village of Frygnowo (German: Frogenau). Only history enthusiasts would deem Frygnowo worthy of a visit. Few have heard of the village, even though it is near the sites of two major battles that were among the most important in the history of Central and Eastern Europe. Those tourists who traveled to Frygnowo during the interwar period were Germans visiting sites associated with the Battle of Tannenberg. Two of the most famous were monuments, both planted by the hand of man. One natural, the other artificial.

Frygnowo was the site of the Hindenburg oak. A tree planted in the East Prussian soil by none other than Paul von Hindenburg several years after the war. Hindenburg was part of the victorious duo (along with Erich Ludendorff) that led German forces to a crushing victory over the Russians in the Battle of Tannenberg. Between the wars, Hindenburg was venerated for his role in the battle. A sort of militaristic savior who pushed the Russians out of the fatherland’s frontier region. Hindenburg was honored at Frygnowo for the time he spent there on August 28-29, 1914, while commanding German forces. The Hindenburg oak and a rock monument were placed where Hindenburg supposedly watched his military masterpiece unfold.

The idea that Hindenburg could stand atop a hill and survey a sprawling battlefield which stretched over hundreds of square kilometers was a stretch. Truth was the first casualty of Germany’s postwar period. The memorialization at Frygnowo was all about celebrating Germany’s victory at Tannenberg. This provided a boost to Teutonic pride. Interwar Germany needed a decisive victory that could be memorialized. Hindenburg had delivered in this regard. Duty to his country called him back to Frygnowo where he played the role of frontier defender against the Slavic hordes to the east. Never mind, that Hindenburg was one of the chief architects of Germany’s defeat. He was the hero Germany thought it needed during this time.

Marking the spot – Monument where Hindenburg watched the Battle of Tannenberg

Monumental Findings – Tantalizing Traces
My friend and I were not visiting Frygnowo to search for the Hindenburg oak. It got axed in the post World War II period. Nor were we going in search of the shattered remains of the rock monument marking the spot where Hindenburg guided Germany to victory. The scant remains of the monument are still said to exist, but we had seen enough random remnants at the Tannenberg Memorial earlier in the day. The place we wanted to catch a glimpse of was much more substantial. This was the building used as headquarters by Hindenburg and Ludendorff during the battle. While doing background research, I learned that the building still existed. I even found a recent photo of it online and saved it on my phone so we would have a visual to go by. I hoped that we would be able to find it while driving around the village. Neither of us knew what to expect at Frygnowo. The low level of expectation would make what we did find more remarkable.    

Coming soon: Leading From The Dairy Farm – Hindenburg at Frygnowo (Northern Poland & Berlin #39b)

Nothing Lasts Forever – A Bridge, A Border & Malbork (Northern Poland & Berlin #31b)

I am both enthralled and disturbed by any place that does not advertise its own history. For as long as I can remember, this thought comes to me when I find a place where its history is not made explicit. I am enthralled because this offers an opportunity for discovery. Disturbed because the past is being dismissed by indifference or irrelevance. The overwhelming majority of history vanishes long before we lay our eyes upon it. The past is obliterated by development, neglect, and loss of memory. Everyone that existed and everything that happened will eventually be forgotten. History is the willful act of trying to slow that process. An attempt to ensure all traces of our existence are not obliterated. A little bit of historical knowledge can go a long way to resurrecting the past. The key is finding it. This often requires a deeper dig into archives. It can also happen when we stumble upon a part of the past by chance. This is what happened a month and a half after I visited Malbork Castle in northern Poland.

Invisible history – Footbridge over the Nogat River

Source of Illumination – Bridge Over The Nogat River
History is all around us even if we cannot see or touch it. In such cases, discovering the past is akin to a magic act. It requires making the invisible visible. Luck can play a large role in this process. I discovered this while doing research on Malbork Castle. I happened to stumble upon a tantalizing bit of history that proved particularly illuminating. When my travel companion and I visited the castle, we parked our rental car in a lot just west of the Nogat River. Getting to the castle meant walking across a bridge that crossed the river. The walk across the bridge was pleasant with plenty of picture taking opportunities. The castle, with all its majestic force, loomed before us. The river partially reflected its walls and towers. This made the castle look as though it was floating upon a sky below.

Nature and man had conspired to create the perfect picture taking opportunity from our vantage point. We stopped and availed ourselves of photos, capturing images of the castle. There was nothing else on the bridge to distract from the magnificence of this setting. The bridge was a conduit and an afterthought, its only use as a platform for our viewing pleasure. I was too distracted by the castle to give the bridge much thought. That was until I returned home and began reading more about the history of Malbork Castle. I soon came across information that made me see the bridge in an entirely new light. During the interwar years (1920 – 1939), the Nogat River acted as both a natural and administrative border, but not between Poland and Germany. Instead, the Nogat acted as the border between the Free City of Danzig and Germany, specifically its province of East Prussia. Both entities were dominated by ethnic Germans and yet they were divided by a river and a treaty.

Today, Germany’s border has shifted far to the west, the Free City of Danzig has vanished with few traces left of it except at a museum in the city of Gdansk. Both sides of the Nogat are now part of Poland. This is the kind of head spinning history that seems unimaginable until you realize this had always been the norm in Europe, as it has for the entire world. Borders only last as long as the next war or treaty. They are artificial creations even when laid over natural features such as the Nogat River.

Shifting border – Nogat River at Malbork Castle

Border Control – Seeing Is Imagining
Visitors making their way across the bridge to Malbork Castle are unlikely to give the former border between the Free City of Danzig and Germany a second thought. Very few will be aware that it vanished or ever existed. There is nothing on the bridge or either of the riverbanks to note the former border. I even doubt the footbridge which we walked across was the same one that stood prior to the war. A nasty battle was fought at Malbork between the Wehrmacht and Red Army in the final months of the war. Half of the castle was either destroyed or badly damaged. The bridge would not stand a chance of survival under such conditions. Nevertheless, there was once a bridge over this part of the Nogat with passport controls. World War II does not make that any less true. History like this is a case of seeing is imagining.

The invasion of Poland by German forces on September 1, 1939, put an end to the border. Less than six years later, the Red Army and post-World War II peace put an end to the presence of Germans in the area. This became Polish territory, as it still is today. From one perspective, the vanished border can be viewed as meaningless. A failed administrative apparatus concocted at the Paris Peace Conference. One that would inevitably end in failure. Then again, all borders eventually end in failure. This is the rule, rather than the exception.

Just as every empire in world history has collapsed, so too has every border vanished. The borders which circumscribe our world are constantly shifting. We do not notice this until they are gone. Even then, they are soon lost to memory. The only difference between the border shared by the Free City of Danzig and Germany, is that it did not last as long as many others. Nevertheless, border which have lasted longer all end up in the same place. The dustbin of history is filled with lines on maps that a stroke of the pen rendered obsolete.  

Looking up – Malbork Castle looking over the Nogat River (Credit: Topory)

Teutonic Shifts – A Distant Memory
I came to Malbork Castle looking to learn more about the Teutonic Knights, the castle’s rich architectural history, and avail myself of innumerable photo opportunities. Two months removed from that memorable day; my greatest takeaway has nothing to do with the castle. My enduring memory is of that footbridge over the Nogat River. It provided me with a belated lesson on the transience of borders. They shift and eventually history vanishes. The borders we perceive today as inviolate are only temporary. Sooner or later, they will shift again. Treaties and border controls are an attempt to stem the tide of transience with the illusion of permanence. Sooner or later, a tide surges beyond the border and washes it all away. Nothing remains, except a distant memory or a few words in a history book to remind us that nothing lasts forever.

Click here for: A New Normal – Praise for Poland (Northern Poland & Berlin #32)