In the meantime, we had to evacuate that street
because my father had a small workshop on Żuliński Street where he made lamps
as he worked in the AK's intelligence unit.
His boss was a man called Śledziński
who, I don't know, to this day he's in hiding,
I mean, he has a false name. When I was small, and he'd come to our house I'd say,
'Mr Śledziński's arrived', to which my father would say, 'Quiet. His name's Myślenicki now.'
He didn't break cover either, he was head of army intelligence in the Lwów AK,
and my father worked for him and had an electricals workshop...
he was in charge of a shop selling electrical appliances
and I used to go and see him often in that shop and bring stuff for my father and from him to my father.
The intelligence unit of the AK arranged for my father to be in charge of this lamp manufacturers on Żuliński Street
where my father hid Jews but for a completely different organisation. So they had to get rid of the whole thing
and together with Mr Czajka, who was supposed to have been a Ukrainian
and who'd been involved in that incident on Łyczakowska Street, they set up a mechanics workshop at number five
also at the request of the AK and they hid Jews there, too. Among others, Grab hid there. He was the man my father
had thrown out of our house. However, there was a terrible row there - it was a point of transit throughout all that time.
It was decided that this would be moved to Asnyk Street, and so Zośka and I moved to Asnyk Street
while my parents moved to Kochanowski Street where they lodged with an Austrian general's widow. She was a wonderful woman.
Once, when I was living there with my parents,
there was a shoot-out under our window.
A sentence was being carried out, some lads from Parasol had come to Lwów to carry it out. I read about this after the war.
I saw the shooting from the window.
What happened was a guy ran up to a bicycle
and a German took out his gun and started shooting
while the first guy zig-zagged his way across the street on the bicycle until he finally jumped off it,
ran to the entrance of the courtyard and returned fire. They ran into our courtyard.
Later, I read a description somewhere of that - from what I can remember from what I read, they managed to get away.
But he ran into our courtyard, the other one had an exit but they were...
later they surrounded that quarter and began monitoring the apartments, all of them in our house.
They came and the General's wife opened the door to them - she was Hungarian, her name was Kiszkis - I don't remember.
It was a house in which you could find everything, anything you wanted:
guns, parts of printing works, people staying who weren't supposed to be there, with forged documents, everything.
On the door, there was a big sign with the General's name still on it - the General had died just before the war broke out.
She led them into the drawing room where there was a big portrait of the General wearing his uniform and his Iron Cross,
they saluted, apologised. Two SS-men asked whether anyone had been there, she replied that no one had and they left.
My parents had just moved in to Kochanowski Street while I was living with Zośka on Asnyk Street,
and I loved living with her.
We became very close, she was a young lady, obviously a young lady from a good family which had become polonised.
She told me all kinds of stories, and she was terribly patriotic.
In addition, she had this idea that poor people needed to be looked after.
The son of the caretaker of the house on Asnyk Street was a bit disabled,
I think he'd had polio but maybe polio wasn't around at that time, I don't know what it was.
So she used to take him toys and other things. I remember we were terribly poor at that point,
but she considered herself to be a young lady from a good family
and as proof of that, she taught me all kinds of new things.