Latest / The Story of Poland: A Nation That Refused to Disappear — Fexingo History / The Silent Siege: Lviv 1918 and the Orlęta Lwowskie
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Poland's rebirth in 1918 — the legions, Piłsudski, the war with the Soviets. But there's one story from those first months that's especially raw, especially personal. It's about a city and the children who defended it. Luna: Children? Lucas: Yeah. The city is Lwów — today Lviv, in Ukraine. When the war ended in November 1918, Lwów was a patchwork of Poles, Ukrainians, Jews, Armenians. The Polish population wanted the city to be part of the new Polish state. The Ukrainian population wanted it for a future Ukrainian republic. And neither side was willing to wait for a treaty. Lucas: The Ukrainian National Council had already declared a West Ukrainian People's Republic in October. On November 1, Ukrainian soldiers and militia seized most of Lwów in a surprise coup. Polish forces were caught completely off guard. But they didn't surrender. Luna: Wait — the Polish forces, who were they? Regular army? Lucas: Almost none. The Polish army was still forming. What they had were volunteers — students, scouts, workers, women, and quite a few teenagers. They barricaded themselves in schools, churches, the main post office. And they held out. Lucas: The Ukrainian siege lasted three weeks. The Polish defenders were outnumbered, low on ammunition, and cut off from reinforcements. But they had one huge advantage: they knew the city. And they had heart. Lucas: The most famous of these volunteers were the young ones — boys and girls, some as young as twelve. They became known as the Orlęta Lwowskie, the Lwów Eaglets. They served as messengers, scouts, medics, even fighters. One of them, Antoś Petrykiewicz, was thirteen when he was killed delivering a message under fire. Luna: Thirteen. That's heartbreaking. Lucas: It is. And it's not an isolated case. The youngest confirmed casualty was Janusz Kiwerski, age eleven. These weren't soldiers — they were kids who picked up rifles because their city needed them. Their story became a national legend. Lucas: The leader of the Polish defense was a twenty-seven-year-old captain named Czesław Mączyński. He organized the scattered volunteers into a coherent force, holding the city center while the Ukrainian army controlled the outskirts. The fighting was street by street, house by house. Luna: How did they finally break the siege? Lucas: After three weeks, Polish relief forces broke through from Przemyśl. On November 22, they entered Lwów, and the Ukrainian forces withdrew. The city was secured for Poland. But the cost was high: over a thousand Polish dead, including many Eaglets. Lucas: The Orlęta became a symbol of Poland's will to survive. After the war, a cemetery was built for the defenders — the Cemetery of the Defenders of Lwów, Cmentarz Obrońców Lwowa. It's on Lyczakowski Hill, and it features a monument to the Eaglets: a bronze boy holding a rifle, wearing a broken uniform. It was a pilgrimage site for Poles until World War Two. Luna: What happened to it after the war? Lviv became part of the Soviet Union, right? Lucas: Right. After 1945, Lwów was annexed by the Soviet Union and renamed Lviv. The Polish population was expelled. The cemetery was neglected, vandalized, bulldozed in places. It became a garbage dump. It wasn't until Ukrainian independence in 1991 that it was restored, and even then, it's been controversial — a symbol of Polish-Ukrainian conflict. Lucas: The story of the Eaglets isn't just Polish — it's Ukrainian too. Many Ukrainians also died in that siege, fighting for their own dream of independence. And both sides were then crushed by larger powers — Poland by Germany and the USSR, Ukraine by the Soviets. The tragedy is that these children didn't live to see the peace they fought for. Luna: It makes you wonder what they would have thought of today's world, with Poland and Ukraine on relatively good terms. Lucas: Exactly. And that's one reason their story endures. It reminds us that borders are written in blood, but also that reconciliation is possible. The Eaglets are remembered not just as soldiers, but as symbols of lost youth. Lucas: Honestly, if today's episode felt worth a coffee to you, the link is buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's the smallest way to keep these conversations ad-free and independent. Luna: Yeah, it really makes a difference. Just knowing listeners care enough to chip in keeps us going. Lucas: So back to Lwów — one more detail. The Eaglets weren't just a passing symbol. In 1920, during the Polish-Soviet War, the same city held out again, this time against the Red Army. And again, teenagers volunteered. The phrase 'Orlęta Lwowskie' came to mean any young defender of the eastern borderlands. Luna: It's almost like a tradition, then. A legend that created reality. Lucas: Right. And that legend had real political weight. When Poland's borders were being drawn in Paris, the fact that Lwów had been defended by its own children was a powerful argument for keeping it Polish. The Eaglets helped shape the map of interwar Poland. Lucas: Of course, that map is gone now. But the memory of those kids — the ones who ran through bullet-ridden streets with messages, who died in their school uniforms — that memory is still alive. In Poland, there are streets named for them, monuments, school lessons. Their story is taught as a lesson in courage and sacrifice. Luna: And in Ukraine? Is there a parallel memory? Lucas: There is, but it's different. For Ukrainians, the defenders of Lviv in 1918 are also heroes — the Ukrainian Galician Army. They had their own young volunteers. The national narrative is more complex. But today, some Ukrainian historians are trying to bridge the gap, to acknowledge the tragedy from both sides. Lucas: That's the thing about history: it's rarely clean. The same city, the same streets, can hold two opposing memories. What matters is that we remember the human cost — the eleven-year-old with a rifle, the thirteen-year-old messenger. Their names are the real history. Luna: Antoś Petrykiewicz — I won't forget that name. Lucas: Me neither. And that's where we'll leave it for today. Next time, we'll look at how those Polish borders that the Eaglets helped secure actually functioned — the multi-ethnic Kresy and the people who lived there.