Kane and Abel Read online

  The Baron Group profited greatly from the post-war explosion in the American economy. Not since the twenties had it been so easy to make so much money so quickly - and by the early fifties, people were beginning to believe that this time it was going to last.

  Abel was not content with financial success alone; as he grew older, he began to worry about Poland’s future, and to feel that he could no longer remain an onlooker. What had Pawel Zaleski, the Polish Consul in Turkey, said? ‘Perhaps in your lifetime you will see Poland rise again.’

  Abel felt, as he watched one puppet communist government after another come into power, that he had risked his life at Remagen for nothing. He began to do everything he could to persuade the United States Congress to take a more militant attitude towards Russian control of its Eastern European satellites. He lobbied politicians, briefed journalists and organized dinners in Chicago, New York and other centres of the Polish-American community, until the Polish cause itself became synonymous with ‘The Chicago Baron’.

  Dr Teodor Szymanowski, formerly professor of history at the University of Cracow, wrote a glowing editorial about Abel’s role in Poland’s ‘Fight to Be Recognized’ in the journal Freedom, which prompted Abel to get in contact with him. Aware only of the vigour of the professor’s opinions, when he was ushered into his study at Princeton Abel was surprised by his physical frailty.

  Szymanowski greeted Abel warmly, and poured him a Danzig vodka without asking what he would like. ‘Baron Rosnovski,’ he said, handing him the glass. ‘I have long admired you, and your work for our cause. Although we make such little headway, you never seem to lose faith.’

  ‘Why should I? I’ve always believed anything is possible in America.’

  ‘But I fear, Baron, that the very men you are now trying to influence are the same ones who have allowed these atrocities to take place, and they will not admit that in the cold light of day.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean, Professor. Why won’t they assist us? After all, in the long run it must be in their interests.’

  The professor leaned back in his chair. ‘You are surely aware, Baron, that the American armies were given specific orders in 1944 to slow down their eastward advance and allow the Russians to take control of as much of central Europe as they could lay their hands on. Patton could have marched into Berlin long before the Russians, but Eisenhower ordered him to hold back. It was our leaders in Washington - the same men you are trying to persuade to put American guns and troops back in Europe - who gave Eisenhower those orders.’

  ‘But they couldn’t have known how large an empire the USSR would become,’ said Abel. ‘The Russians had been our allies. I accept that we were too conciliatory towards them at the end of the war, but it surely can’t have been the Americans who betrayed the Polish people.’

  Before Szymanowski spoke, he closed his eyes wearily.

  ‘I wish you could have known my brother, Baron. I heard only last week that he died six months ago in a Soviet camp not unlike the one from which you escaped.’

  Abel was about to offer his sympathy, but Szymanowski raised a hand.

  ‘No, don’t say anything. You have known the camps yourself. You would be the first to realize that sympathy is not a solution. We must try to change the world while others sleep.’ Szymanowski paused. ‘My brother was sent to Russia by the Americans.’

  Abel stared at him in disbelief.

  ‘By the Americans? How is that possible? If he was captured in Poland by Russian troops—’

  ‘My brother was not taken prisoner in Poland. He was liberated from a German prisoner of war camp near Frankfurt. The Americans kept him in a DP camp for a month and then handed him over to the Russians.’

  ‘Why would they do that?’

  ‘The Russians wanted all Slavs repatriated. Repatriated so they could then be exterminated or enslaved. The ones Hitler didn’t kill, Stalin did. And I can prove that my brother was in the American Sector for over a month.’

  ‘But,’ said Abel, ‘was he an exception, or were there others like him?’

  ‘There were hundreds of thousands,’ said Szymanowski without apparent emotion. ‘Perhaps as many as a million. I doubt if we will ever know the true figure. The whole evil affair was known as Operation Kee Chanl.’

  ‘But surely if people knew that the Americans had been sending liberated prisoners back to die in Russia, they’d be horrified.’

  ‘There is no proof, no official documentation. Mark Clark, like Nelson, turned a blind eye, allowing a few of the prisoners warned by sympathetic GIs to escape before the Americans could send them to the camps. One of the lucky ones was with my brother.’ The professor paused. ‘Anyway, it’s too late to do anything now.’

  ‘But the American people should be told. I’ll form a committee, print pamphlets, make speeches. Surely Congress will listen to us if the evidence is overwhelming.’

  ‘Baron Rosnovski, I think this one is too big even for you. You must understand the mentality of world leaders. The Americans agreed to hand over those poor devils because Stalin demanded it as part of an overall package. I am sure they never thought there would be trials, labour camps and executions to follow. And no one is going to admit to being indirectly responsible for the extermination of thousands of innocent people. I had rather hoped the conclusion you might come to was that you must play a more direct role in politics.’

  ‘I have no desire to stand for election,’ said Abel. ‘For that job you need to be a cross between Babe Ruth and Henry Fonda, and I’m more like Hopalong Cassidy. But that won’t stop me from making my voice heard, and I think I know exactly the right man to contact because he hates the communists even more than I do.’

  The moment Abel was back in New York, he went straight to his office, picked up a telephone and asked his secretary to locate a man who was beginning to make a name for himself for not being afraid to sit in judgement on anybody.

  Joseph McCarthy’s secretary came on the line and asked who wanted to speak to the senator. ‘I’ll see if he’s free,’ she said when she learned who it was.

  ‘Mr Rosenevski,’ said the unmistakable voice of the senator. Abel wondered if McCarthy had mangled his name on purpose, or if it was just a bad connection. What is this matter of grave importance you wanted to discuss with me?’ Abel hesitated. Your secrets are safe with me,’ he heard the senator say.

  ‘Of course,’ said Abel, collecting his thoughts. ‘You, Senator, have been a forthright spokesman for those of us who would like to see the Eastern European nations freed from the yoke of communism.’

  ‘I’m glad you appreciate my efforts, Rosenevski.’

  This time Abel was sure McCarthy had mispronounced his name on purpose, but decided not to comment on it.

  You do realize,’ the senator continued, ‘that only after the traitors have been driven from within our own government can any real action be taken to free your captive people.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I want to speak to you about, Senator. You’ve had brilliant success in exposing treachery within our own government. But to date, one of the communists’ greatest crimes has gone unnoticed.’

  ‘Just what great crime did you have in mind, Mr Rosenevski? I’ve come across so many since I arrived in Washington.’

  ‘I am referring’ - Abel drew himself up a little straighter in his chair - ‘to the forced repatriation of thousands of displaced Polish citizens by the American authorities after the war in Europe ended. Innocent enemies of communism were sent back to Poland and then transported to Russian camps, to be enslaved and often exterminated.’ He waited for a response, but none was forthcoming. He heard a click, and wondered if someone else had been listening to their conversation.

  ‘How can you be so ill informed, Rosenevski?’ said Senator McCarthy, his tone suddenly aggressive. ‘You dare to telephone me to say that Americans - loyal United States soldiers - sent thousands of your people to Russia and nobody heard a word about it? Even a Polack couldn