Divergent paths to Italy

Ok... Back to dad and Artur in Romania ... After passing all exams and receiving high school diplomas in Craiova, dad and Artur now had an opportunity to become officers in the Polish Army. The trick was to get to Italy where they could join Anders victorious troops. In August 1945 they stopped back in Bochnia to briefly reunite with families and again bid their farewells. The mood back home was somber with little hope despite the German surrender. So family and friends felt pride upon learning the mission that dad and Artur were undertaking, and eagerly awaiting their return as liberators.

The two departed by train this time going west, making sure to avoid Russian zones before arriving in Pilsen, an American zone. There they signed papers to enlist in the Polish Army, the next morning sent to Munich by an American military truck, where yet more Polish recruits were arriving.

From Munich, where dad was briefly reunited with a Jewish childhood friend who survived the concentration camp of Auschwitz, a large volume of Polish troops were transported by open bed trucks through the Swiss Alps and into a Polish camp near Ancona italy.

I took a differen route to reach Ancona due to time constraints and travel logistics. Although Budapest and Venice are not part of my fathers story, their history and beauty are simply to powerful to ignore in this blog:

The skyline of Budapest along the Danube River is quite impressive from any angle. This photo is taken from the Buda side, which also houses the palace and is the hilly side.

Budapest will always hold a special place for me, there is a magical pull in this historical city.

Venice is a place that everyone should visit at least one time. There is simply no other city in the world like it.

I learned that you don't plan for things to see and do in Venice, it's near impossible to find anything on the map with its labyrinth of canals and narrow streets (some no wider than 5 feet walled canyons). You simply wander around and stumble upon gems and surprises.!

While my father travelled to Ancona through the Swiss Alps. I arrived from further east via Venice, the mountains not as impressive though still quite scenic. I'll get to view the Alps upon my return back north from Rome.

While traveling with Artur and other Polish troops through the Alps, my father held a premonition that his brother Stefan was alive and somewhere near.. The family had not seen or heard from him since December 1939. He was 17 and frustrated, tired of living as a refugee. He fled Russian occupied Poland without legal papers, committed to trek across Europe and find a way to join the Polish Army, which was at that time fighting in France.