Fr. Wladyslaw “Walter” Gurgul 1930-2020 He was born on Sept. 28, 1930, on a small farm in Belz, in eastern Poland (now western Ukraine) in the city which held the Black Madonna for many years (before it was enshrined in Czestochowa). He had a simple, happy childhood that came to an abrupt end in 1939, when the Soviets invaded Poland. The Gurgul family of eight and their neighbors were among the hundreds of thousands of Poles forced onto freight cars and brought to Siberia following the Soviet invasion. There they were placed into squalid labor camps where at least half of their fellow Poles died from starvation or disease. "It was bitterly cold," Fr. Gurgul remembered. "And we were constantly reminded that we were 'destined to die here like dogs.' We starved for more than three days at a time." The Gurguls were given a single room with a bread oven and one bed. His father worked as a haymaker, and his mother carried water. His beloved father eventually fell ill and was sent to a hospital, never to be seen again. Meanwhile, young Walter attended school Monday through Saturday. He did so well that the KGB began to take note of him. His father's words to him echoed in his ears: "My dear little boy. Child, learn; learn as much as possible. It will be useful and serve you in your life." Fearful that her son might be taken away by the KGB and without enough money to provide for food, Walter's mother began to hope for an opportunity to escape. In the summer of 1941, the camp's entire Polish community was gathered by the Soviet authorities. Some thought, "We will be shot on the spot!" To their great surprise, the Poles were told they were being granted their freedom. However, they later overheard those who had a smuggled radio say that on June 22, 1941, Hitler had declared war on Russia, and Stalin wanted to gather the Poles to create a Polish army to fight against the Germans. On a cold night in November 1941, pulling their children behind them on sleds, Walter's mother and aunt set out on foot to escape, making the more than 18-mile trek through the forests to a railway station. "Where did they get their strength?" Fr. Gurgul asked. "It was their innate motherly instinct which drove them to that heroism, to save their beloved children." He added, "I remember the wolves and wild bears. It was bitterly cold and scary." They hopped upon a train heading south. Arriving in Uzbekistan, they were greeted by the Polish army, who took compassion on them and gave them a hut made out of straw and clay. Walter worked on his hands and knees picking cotton in the fields. The only food they could scrounge up was a rice porridge. Desperate for meat, his mother killed a stray, mangy dog. A few days after that meal, the whole family, save the eldest boy, fell ill with typhoid. Walter witnessed the death of his 2-year-old brother, Bronus, and his 4-year-old sister, Irenka. After recovering, the remaining members of the family met a Polish officer who recognized their name. "Gurgul?” the officer inquired. “I was in the army with your father in 1939!" He led Bolek, the eldest son, and Walter to safety — to the platoons where more than 70 young Polish boys were being housed. By the end of February 1942, the Polish military announced that they needed to send the young boys abroad. "We were leaving the East forever," Fr. Gurgul said. "We left behind all misery and hardship. A new chapter of life had begun." He was baptized in the church that housed the Black Madonna. He was good friends with the priest responsible for bringing the Divine Mercy message to the western hemisphere.
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