Latest / The Story of Poland: A Nation That Refused to Disappear — Fexingo History / The Lwów Eaglets: Poland's Child Defenders of 1918
Transcript
- Lucas: So last time we talked about the golden liberty of the szlachta, and how that system eventually led to the partitions. But Poland came back in 1918, and the first years of independence were anything but peaceful. One of the most dramatic — and heartbreaking — episodes was the fight for the city of Lwów, now Lviv in Ukraine. Luna: Lwów — that's the city with the big Polish history, right? Where the Kresy identity was so strong? Lucas: Exactly. Lwów was a multicultural gem — Poles, Ukrainians, Jews, Armenians all lived there. But in November 1918, as the Austro-Hungarian Empire collapsed, both Polish and Ukrainian nationalists claimed the city. The Ukrainians declared a Western Ukrainian People's Republic, and they controlled most of eastern Galicia. Lwów was a Polish island in a Ukrainian sea. Lucas: On November 1st, Ukrainian troops seized key positions in the city. The Polish side had only a small military detachment, so ordinary citizens — students, scouts, even children — grabbed whatever weapons they could find and started forming ad hoc units. That's where the Orlęta Lwowskie, the Lwów Eaglets, come in. Luna: Wait — children? How young are we talking? Lucas: Some were as young as nine. Most were teenagers, high school kids from the local gymnasiums. They served as messengers, scouts, and eventually frontline fighters. The most famous of them was Antoś Petrykiewicz, a 13-year-old who was killed on November 23rd while delivering a message under fire. He became the symbol of the Eaglets, a kind of Polish Joan of Arc figure, except a boy. Lucas: The fighting was brutal — house to house, street by street. The Polish commander, General Czesław Mączyński, organized the defense with barely 1,200 trained men and about 6,000 volunteers, many of them youth. They held out for three weeks until relief forces arrived from Przemyśl. By then, over 1,000 Poles had died, including about 150 teenagers and children. Luna: That's staggering. What made them so determined? I mean, these were kids. Lucas: Patriotism was intense in that generation. Poland had been erased for over a century, and now it was back. For the youth of Lwów, defending their city meant defending the very idea of Poland. Many of them had grown up in scouting organizations that instilled a sense of duty. And in the moment, it wasn't abstract — they were fighting for their homes, their families. Lucas: The siege finally lifted on November 22nd, when Polish forces broke through. But the war for eastern Galicia dragged on until July 1919, when a Polish offensive pushed the Ukrainians out. Lwów remained Polish until World War II. Luna: It's amazing — and sad — that children were part of that story. How did Poland remember them afterwards? Lucas: They became a huge national symbol. A special Cemetery of the Defenders of Lwów was built, with a monument to the Eaglets. Every year there were ceremonies. Books and poems celebrated them. In interwar Poland, the Orlęta were held up as proof of the nation's vitality and sacrifice. But the memory is contested now, because Lwów is no longer Polish — it's Lviv, in Ukraine. Luna: Right, that's a painful legacy. The cemetery is still there, isn't it? Lucas: It is. After World War II, when the Soviets annexed eastern Galicia, the cemetery fell into neglect. In the 1990s, Polish and Ukrainian authorities argued over its restoration. Some Ukrainians saw the Eaglets as symbols of Polish imperialism, not heroism. Eventually an agreement was reached, and the cemetery was rebuilt, but it still carries political weight. For many Poles, the Eaglets represent a lost world — the Kresy, the eastern borderlands that are now part of Ukraine. Luna: I can see why that story resonates. It's not just about military history — it's about identity and loss. Lucas: Exactly. And that kind of layered meaning is part of why we dig into these stories. For listeners who've been following Poland's journey episode by episode, this is another reminder that history is never simple. The Eaglets were children, but they were also weapons in a national narrative. Luna: You know, it makes me think about how much work goes into telling these stories properly. We spend hours on research, checking sources, trying to get the nuance right. Lucas: We do. And that's only possible because of listeners who support the show directly. If you find value in these conversations, consider buying us a coffee — it's at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. That kind of support keeps Fexingo ad-free and lets us keep digging into the corners of history that deserve attention. Luna: Yeah. It really helps. And we appreciate every bit of it. Lucas: So back to the Eaglets. One of the most remarkable stories is that of 12-year-old Jurek Bitschan, who was a scout. He was wounded in the leg but kept fighting. When his mother begged him to come home, he refused, saying 'I am a Pole, and I will die for Poland.' He survived, but many didn't. The youngest confirmed casualty was 9-year-old Kazik Piech. Luna: Nine years old. That's hard to wrap my head around. Lucas: It is. And it raises uncomfortable questions about child soldiers, even in a patriotic cause. Polish historians have debated whether the Eaglets were truly volunteers or were pressured by adults. Most evidence suggests they were genuinely eager to fight, but the line between heroism and exploitation is blurry. Lucas: The Ukrainian side also had young fighters, though they're less mythologized. For Ukrainians, the war for Lwów was a legitimate struggle for self-determination against Polish expansion. That's why the memory is still contested — both sides have their martyrs. Luna: It's a reminder that every nation has its own founding myths, and they often involve the very young or the very innocent. Lucas: Exactly. And the Eaglets are a powerful example. Their story isn't just about Poland — it's about how nations build identity out of sacrifice, and how the same event can be remembered very differently depending on who tells it.