The author lived with his parents in Kraków before the war in the Nowa Olsza suburb. He was 16, going to school and a scout when the war started.

On 6 September 1939 at six in the morning the Wehrmacht and SS arrived in Kraków.

My school was to be used as a stable and the next school we were due to go to was also closed. A temporary school was opened in a building on ul. Lubicz. The occupier decided that Poles only needed to count to one thousand and the highest form of learning was to be trade schools.

The Nazi flag flew from Wawel castle in Kraków, once the home of the kings of Poland, now it was the HQ of Hans Frank, the governor of occupied Poland. The main square became Adolf Hitler Platz and many of the parks, restaurants and shops and some of the trams and other places became Nur Für Deutsche – only for Germans. The government of occupied Poland was set up in the mining and steel school.

The monotonous, grey days began. Armed patrols in the streets. Posters telling people to hand over their weapons and radios and to keep to a curfew that lasted from 18.30 to 05:00. After the Wehrmacht came the SS, SD, Gestapo and other uniformed services of the occupier.

The memorial to the Battle of Grunwald in Matejki Square and the statue of Adam Mickiewicz in the market square were blown up. Anyone doing anything against the German Reich would get the death sentence. Professors from the university were arrested. At nearby Krzeszowice there were the first mass executions. Fifteen prisoners from the St Michael prison were shot. Later around 2,000 prisoners were shot here.

Once I had finished the school year, I met a superb teacher – Professor Mikuła. He got us interested in all sorts of things such as music, art, painting and poetry. This also built up our sense of patriotism.

During the first few months there was a constant shortage of food, particularly bread. I had to find food in our home. Every night I was first in the queue to get bread from the nearby bakery – this was often the only time in the day that there was any bread there. Later I took my bike 30km to the town of Słomniki where it was possible to buy bread without ration cards and I could buy as much as I wanted. Sometimes there would be a few of us who would leave home at three in the morning, not worrying about the curfew. We came back with several loaves of bread for home and friends.

My mother’s talent at making much from little allowed us to live.