98th Anniversary of the Battle
Co-financed by the Minister of Culture and National Heritage from the Culture Promotion Fund
September 15, 2018
A procession emerges from the cornfields. The impression is surreal: amidst the throng of ordinary events, preparations for the ceremony, microphone tests and setting up chairs, pilgrims appear. A boy with a Ukrainian flag walks at the head. Behind him is a sexton with a cross and old women with banners. The wavering singing of the old ladies mixes with the steady voice of the local priest, who leads the prayer in ornate robes. Combined with the gloomy weather, fog and drizzle, the whole scene seems to have been transferred from some other reality. But all this is really happening, here and now.
The bell at the cemetery gates rings out. The chaplain of the 10th Armored Cavalry Brigade, Fr. Col. Michał Zieliński, presiding over the Eucharist, orders the introduction of the standard-bearing guard. The anthems of both countries are sung. After the introduction rites and the Liturgy of the Word, the chaplain delivers a very emotional and beautiful sermon:
"I won't retell the story of the battle. You all know it well. Let's think about how many places like this there are in Poland and the Borderlands. How many of them weren't – despite everything – so fortunate because they weren't restored? And what can we do to ensure that places like this, evidence that people here killed each other out of hatred, are as few as possible? To prevent new ones from emerging. (...) Dytiatyn is not only a symbol of hatred. It's also a symbol of love. How great must this love for the homeland have been that led Captain Zając to decide to stay on the hill when there was no chance of victory? You can't love more. Because "greater love has no man than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends."
The Battle of Dytiatyn has been celebrated for 9 years. At first, there was only an iron cross surrounded by a wild rose. Later, the cemetery was rebuilt. Since 2015, the celebrations at the renovated necropolis have gathered hundreds of people, from the families of the fallen, through officials and people interested in the topic, to the local population.
Conversations with the oldest residents of Dytiatyn open up a completely new perspective of human memories and "micro-histories" that no one has heard of before or that are not spoken about out loud. These stories that are not in the pages of textbooks, but live on in people's hearts to this day. It is obvious that there are no longer people who remember the battle itself or the battlefield - after all, the clash took place almost a hundred years ago. However, the events that followed each other in the following decades wrote a second history here - the history of the cemetery and the place of remembrance, which can be analyzed separately, independently of the events of 1920.
The sepulchral church, which the authorities of the Second Polish Republic built on the burial site of the fallen defenders of Dytiatyn, was destroyed by the Bolsheviks in 1948. Only a cross remained on the rubble, according to legend made from cannon shell casings fired by the gunners of the 8th Artillery Brigade during the battle. Surprisingly, it stood in place for decades of Soviet rule. Although Hill 385, where the battle was fought, belongs to agricultural lands that were incorporated into the state agricultural enterprise – kolkhoz – during the Soviet era, the very burial site of Polish soldiers was never ploughed or sown.
Witnesses to history refer me from one to another: "Oh, this one, she'll tell you!", "You have to ask her, she saw more." It often happens that two people refer the interlocutor to each other and each of them claims that "the other one" saw more, knows more, experienced more. However, almost everyone leads to one of the participants of the ceremony. He is an elderly man in a woolen sweater, leaning on a crutch. A resident of Dytiatyn since birth, born in 1939, Petro Hrudzewycz.
Throughout his working life, he worked as a driver on a local collective farm. In 1986, the local authorities decided to eliminate the cross and finally raze the Polish memorial site to the ground. Criminal prisoners from a nearby prison were brought to the “action.” With great difficulty, they eventually managed to knock down the cross. However, it had to be taken outside the village so that people would not want to put it up again. The party official in charge of the criminals came to Hrudzewycz. He ordered him to put the cross on a truck and take it to the forest or throw it into the river. He could not do that. He refused and, just to be on the safe side, threw the tractor keys into the river.
Finally, the prisoners carried the cross on their hands to the village, where they threw it behind the fence of the church in Dytiatyn. The party member said: "Let the priest take what is his, we don't want it!" and then drove away. However, Hrudzewycz was not forgotten for his disobedience. He was punished with a demotion at work and from then on he was ordered to deliver milk cans of several dozen liters, which he had to manually load onto a truck. One day he suffered a severe spinal injury. He is still a cripple because of it.
A few years after the second devastation of the cemetery in Dytiatyn, Ukraine was already free. In 1991, a new cross was erected at the battle site, and soon people began to gather around it to honor the true heroes of the 1920 battle. The original cross from the battlefield was placed in front of the entrance to the church in Dytiatyn, where it stands to this day. All this would not have been possible without the involvement of the local clergy.
The priest who arrived at the cemetery with the procession was Father Mykola Cymbalisty, pastor of the Greek Catholic parish in Dytiatyn. Even on a cloudy day, his bright robes shimmer, standing out white against the backdrop of the cemetery and the surrounding fields. Father Cymbalisty has been serving in Dytiatyn for two years, but he continues the work of his predecessor, who, like him, led the annual procession from the church to the cemetery after the morning panikhida—a service for the deceased in Eastern Christian rites. What captivates you about Father Cymbalisty from the very first moment you meet him is his kindness and his attitude of friendliness and empathy. As he stands slightly bowed in his Eastern liturgical robes, holding a prayer book hidden beneath his wide sleeves, any interpersonal distance disappears, and a truly sincere conversation begins.
“What is Dytiatyn to me?” he repeats the question aloud, and only after a moment does he answer:
For me, it's a symbol of love for the homeland. Today, when Ukraine is going through very difficult times, we need symbols like these. Twenty-seven years ago, our country regained its freedom, but many people here still don't understand what freedom truly means. The attitude of Captain Zajac and his soldiers is precisely the true love of freedom, even to the point of sacrificing their own lives. Every Ukrainian should know the story of this battle. Not only because it was fought on our soil, but today it also forms part of Ukrainian history. Above all, people need to see that freedom isn't given once and for all, and those who question its meaning have a chance, right here, at Dytiatyn, to see how valuable it is, if people are willing to fight for it so fiercely.
Father Cymbalisty not only leads the celebrations on his part, but also organizes a youth camp in Dytiatyn for Greek Catholic children from all over Galicia during the summer holidays, where he tells the story of the battle and teaches what conclusions can be drawn from it. The priest also contributed to the fact that in the local primary school, in the subject "History of Ukraine", one lesson is devoted to local history. Among the topics taught there is also the Battle of Dytiatyn.
Time is running out and the festivities are about to begin. However, I manage to talk to another Ukrainian priest who is taking part in the festivities. From a distance, it is difficult to identify him as a priest. He is wearing a new type of Ukrainian army field uniform, with a baseball cap on his head. Only when you get closer can you see that his rank insignia includes a cross and that his military rank is simply called "chaplain."
Father Roman Stadnyk has been stationed at the garrison in Kalush for many years, where he works, among others, with soldiers who returned from Donbas with severe post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). He is their chaplain, psychologist and best friend.
– Working with soldiers is much more difficult than regular parish ministry – he says.
"Here we encounter problems that civilians don't encounter. Soldiers with damaged psyche truly need help and constant attention. When an ordinary person has a problem, they'll come forward and talk about it. But a soldier needs to be constantly observed, paying attention to his gestures and behavior, and often encouraged to open up if he doesn't have the courage to approach first.".
When asked if there are any common problems for soldiers in all wars, he answers briefly:
– Yes. This is the common problem of all people who have walked this earth, except for Christ and Mary.
It is hatred.
At the ceremony, the diplomatic corps is represented by the Polish Consul in Lviv, Marian Orlikowski, and Vice-Consul Katarzyna Sołek. The Ministry of Culture and National Heritage is represented by Krystyna Sałańska, Dariusz Sczęśniak, and Teresa Zachara. Ukrainian local authorities are represented by Maria Szczepańska, Chairwoman of the Bołszowiec City Council, and Yevhen Dowżyński, Village Head of Dytiatyn. The Polish clergy includes: Rev. Dr. Jacek Waligóra, representative of Lviv Archbishop Mieczysław Mokrzycki, Fr. Stanisław Kawa, delegate of the Provincial of the Order of Friars Minor in Ukraine, and Fr. Bronisław Staworowski from Kraków, a Kresowian. Of course, the hosts could not be missing – Guardian Fr. Andrzej Wanat, custodian of the cemetery in Dytiatyn and the Sanctuary of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary in Bołszowce, as well as Fr. Marian Melnychuk, who serves there, a Ukrainian of Roman Catholic faith and a great friend of Poles.
The musical setting is provided by the "Surma Hałyczyny" orchestra from Lviv. The singing is provided by the "Podolski Kwiat" Song and Dance Ensemble from Koziatyn, directed by Natalia Czajkowska, composed of children of Polish origin attending a Polish Saturday-Sunday school. The beautiful, eastern accent in the words they sing, as if from a pre-war film, brings tears to the eyes of many of the older participants of the ceremony. The image is completed by the youth from the Lviv "Strzelca" unit, who proudly perform the honor guard at the plaques with the names of the fallen.
Marcin Więckowski
