POLAND was discussed at no fewer than seven out of the eight plenary meetings of the Yalta Conference, and the British record contains an interchange on this topic of nearly eighteen thousand words between Stalin, Roosevelt, and myself. Aided by our Foreign Ministers and their subordinates, who also held tense and detailed debate at separate meetings among themselves, we finally produced a declaration* which represented both a promise to the world and agreement between ourselves on our future actions. The painful tale is still unfinished and the true facts are as yet imperfectly known, but what is here set down may perhaps contribute to a just appreciation of our efforts at the last but one of the war-time Conferences. The difficulties and the problems were ancient, multitudinous, and imperative. The Soviet-sponsored Lublin Government of Poland, or the “Warsaw” Government as the Russians of all names preferred to call it, viewed the London Polish Government with bitter animosity. Feeling between them had got worse, not better, since our October meeting in Moscow. Soviet troops were flooding across Poland, and the Polish Underground Army was freely charged with the murder of Russian soldiers and with sabotage and attacks on their rear areas and their lines of communication. Both access and information were denied to the Western Powers. In Italy and on the Western Front over 150,000 Poles were fighting valiantly for the final destruction of the Nazi armies. They and many others elsewhere in Europe were eagerly looking forward to the liberation of their country and a return to their homeland from voluntary and honourable exile. The large community of Poles in the United States anxiously awaited a settlement between the three Great Powers.
The questions which we discussed may be summarised as follows:
How to form a single Provisional Government for Poland.
How and when to hold free elections.
How to settle the Polish frontiers, both in the east and the west. How to safeguard the rear areas and lines of communication of the advancing Soviet armies.
Poland had indeed been the most urgent reason for the Yalta Conference, and was to prove the first of the great causes which led to the breakdown of the Grand Alliance. I myself was sure that a strong, free, and independent Poland was much more important than particular territorial boundaries. I wanted the Poles to be able to live freely and live their own lives in their own way. It was for this that we had gone to war against Germany in 1939. It had nearly cost us our life, not only as an Empire but as a nation, and when we met on February 6, 1945, I posed the question as follows: Could we not create a Government or governmental instrument for Poland, pending full and free elections, which could be recognised by all? Such a Government could prepare for a free vote of the Polish people on their future constitution and administration. If this could be done we should have taken one great step forward towards the future peace and prosperity of Central Europe.
In the debate which followed, Stalin claimed to understand our attitude. For the British, he said, Poland was a question of honour, but for the Russians it was a question both of honour and security; of honour because they had had many conflicts with the Poles and they wished to eliminate the causes of such conflicts; of security, because Poland was on the frontiers of Russia, and throughout history Poland had been a corridor through which Russia’s enemies had passed to attack her. The Germans had done this twice during the last thirty years and they had been able to do it because Poland was weak. Russia wanted her to be strong and powerful so that she could shut this corridor of her own strength. Russia could not keep it shut from the outside. It could only be shut from the inside by Poland herself. This was a matter of life and death for the Soviet State.
As for her frontiers, Stalin went on to say that the President had suggested some modification of the Curzon Line and that Lvov and perhaps certain other districts should be given to Poland, and I had said that this would be a gesture of magnanimity. But he pointed out that the Curzon Line had not been invented by the Russians. It had been drawn up by Curzon and Clemenceau and representatives of the United States at the conference in 1918, to which Russia had not been invited. The Curzon Line had been accepted against the will of Russia on the basis of ethnographical data. Lenin had not agreed with it. The Russians had already retired from Lenin’s position, and now some people wanted Russia to take less than Curzon and Clemenceau had conceded. That would be shameful. When the Ukrainians came to Moscow they would say that Stalin and Molotov were less trustworthy defenders of Russia than Curzon or Clemenceau. It was better that the war should continue a little longer, although it would cost Russia much blood, so that Poland could be compensated at Germany’s expense. When Mikolajczyk had been in Russia during October he had asked what frontier for Poland Russia would recognise in the west, and he had been delighted to hear that Russia thought that the western frontier of Poland should be extended to the Neisse. There were two rivers of that name, said Stalin, one near Breslau, and another farther west. It was the Western Neisse he had in mind.
When we met again on February 7 I reminded my hearers that I had always qualified the moving of the Polish frontier westwards by saying that the Poles should be free to take territory in the west, but not more than they wished or could properly manage. It would be a great pity to stuff the Polish goose so full of German food that it died of indigestion. A large body of opinion in Great Britain was shocked at the idea of moving millions of people by force. Great success had been achieved in disentangling the Greek and Turkish populations after the last war, and the two countries had enjoyed good relations ever since; but in that case under a couple of millions of people had been moved. If Poland took East Prussia and Silesia as far as the Oder that alone would mean moving six million Germans back to Germany. It might be managed, subject to the moral question, which I would have to settle with my own people.
Stalin said there were no Germans in these areas, as they had all run away.
I replied that the question was whether there was room for them in what was left of Germany. Six or seven million Germans had been killed and another million (Stalin suggested two millions) would probably be killed before the end of the war. There should therefore be room for these migrant people up to a certain point. They would be needed to fill the vacancies. I was not afraid of the problem of transferring populations, so long as it was proportionate to what the Poles could manage and to what could be put into Germany. But it was a matter which required study, not as a question of principle, but of the numbers which would have to be handled.
In these general discussions maps were not used, and the distinction between the Eastern and Western Neisse did not emerge as clearly as it should have done. This was however soon to be made clear.*
On the 8th Mr. Roosevelt agreed that the eastern boundary of Poland should be the Curzon Line, with modifications in favour of Poland in some areas of from five to eight kilometres. But he was firm and precise about the frontier in the west. Poland should certainly receive compensation at the expense of Germany, “but,” he continued, “there would appear to be little justification for extending it up to the Western Neisse.” This had always been my view, and I was to press it very hard when we met again at Potsdam five months later.
Thus at Yalta we were all united in principle about the western frontier, and the only question was where exactly the line should be drawn and how much we should say about it. The Poles should have part of East Prussia and be free to go up to the line of the Oder if they wished, but we were very doubtful about going any farther or saying anything on the question at this stage, and three days later I told the Conference that we had had a telegram from the War Cabinet which strongly deprecated any reference to a frontier as far west as the Western Neisse because the problem of moving the population was too big to manage.
We accordingly decided to insert the following in our declaration:
The three heads of Governments consider that the eastern frontier of Poland should follow the Curzon Line, with digressions from it in some regions of five to eight kilometres in favour of Poland. They recognise that Poland must receive substantial accessions of territory in the north and west. They feel that the opinion of the new Polish Provisional Government of National Unity should be sought in due course on the extent of these accessions, and that the final delimitation of the western frontier of Poland should thereafter await the Peace Conference.
There remained the question of forming a Polish Government which we could all recognise and which the Polish nation would accept. Stalin began by pointing out that we could not create a Polish Government unless the Poles themselves agreed to it. Mikolajczyk and Grabski had come to Moscow during my visit there. They had met the Lublin Government, a measure of agreement had been reached, and Mikolajczyk had gone to London on the understanding that he would come back. Instead, his colleagues had turned him out of office simply because he favoured an agreement with the Lublin Government. The Polish Government in London were hostile to the very idea of the Lublin Government, and described it as a company of bandits and criminals. The Lublin Government had paid them back in their own coin, and it was now very difficult to do anything about it. “Talk to the Lublin Government if you like,” he said in effect. “I will get them to meet you here or in Moscow, but they are just as democratic as de Gaulle, and they can keep the peace in Poland and stop civil war and attacks on the Red Army.” The London Government could not do this. Their agents had killed Russian soldiers and had raided supply dumps to get arms. Their radio stations were operating without permission and without being registered. The agents of the Lublin Government had been helpful, and the agents of the London Government had done much evil. It was vital for the Red Army to have safe rear areas, and as a military man he would only support the Government which could guarantee to provide them.
It was now late in the evening and the President suggested adjourning till next day, but I thought it right to state that according to our information not more than one-third of the Polish people would support the Lublin Government if they were free to express their opinion. I assured Stalin that we had greatly feared a collision between the Polish Underground Army and the Lublin Government, which might lead to bitterness, bloodshed, arrests, and deportations, and that was why we had been so anxious for a joint arrangement. Attacks on the Red Army must of course be punished, but on the facts at my disposal I could not feel that the Lublin Government had a right to say that they represented the Polish nation.
The President was now anxious to end the discussion. “Poland,” he remarked, “has been a source of trouble for over five hundred years.” “All the more,” I answered, “must we do what we can to put an end to these troubles.” We then adjourned.
That night the President wrote a letter to Stalin, after consultation with and amendment by us, urging that two members of the Lublin Government and two from London or from within Poland should come to the Conference and try to agree in our presence about forming a Provisional Government which we could all recognise to hold free elections as soon as possible. But this was apparently impracticable. Molotov acclaimed the virtues of the Lublin-Warsaw Government, deplored the failings of the men from London, and said that if we tried to create a new Government the Poles themselves might never agree, so it was better to try to “enlarge” the existing one. It would only be a temporary institution, because our sole object was to hold free elections in Poland as soon as possible. How to enlarge it could best be discussed in Moscow between the American and British Ambassadors and himself. He greatly desired an agreement, and he accepted the President’s proposals to invite two “non-Lublin” Poles. There was always the possibility that the Lublin Government would refuse to talk with some of them, like Mikolajczyk, but if they sent three representatives and two came from those suggested by Mr. Roosevelt conversations could start at once.
“This,” I said, “is the crucial point of the Conference. The whole world is waiting for a settlement, and if we separate still recognising different Polish Governments the whole world will see that fundamental differences between us still exist. The consequences will be most lamentable, and will stamp our meeting with the seal of failure. If we brush aside the existing London Government and lend all our weight to the Lublin Government there will be a world outcry. The Poles outside of Poland will make a virtually united protest. There is under our command a Polish army of 150,000 men, who have been gathered from all who have been able to come together from outside their country. It has fought, and is still fighting, very bravely. I do not believe it will be at all reconciled to the Lublin Government, and if Great Britain transfers recognition from the Government which it has recognised since the beginning of the war they will look on it as a betrayal.”
“As Marshal Stalin and M. Molotov well know,” I proceeded, “I myself do not agree with the London Government’s action, which has been foolish at every stage. But the formal act of transferring recognition from those whom we have hitherto recognised to this new Government would cause the gravest criticism. It would be said that His Majesty’s Government have given way completely on the eastern frontier (as in fact we have) and have accepted and championed the Soviet view. It would also be said that we have broken altogether with the lawful Government of Poland, which we have recognised for these five years of war, and that we have no knowledge of what is actually going on in Poland. We cannot enter the country. We cannot see and hear what opinion is. It would be said we can only accept what the Lublin Government proclaims about the opinion of the Polish people, and we would be charged in Parliament with having altogether forsaken the cause of Poland. The debates which would follow would be most painful and embarrassing to the unity of the Allies, even supposing that we were able to agree to the proposals of my friend M. Molotov.”
“I do not think,” I continued, “that these proposals go nearly far enough. If we give up the Polish Government in London a new start should be made from both sides on more or less equal terms. Before His Majesty’s Government ceased to recognise the London Government and transferred their recognition to another Government they would have to be satisfied that the new Government truly represented the Polish nation. I agree that this is only one point of view, as we do not fully know the facts, and all our differences will of course be removed if a free and unfettered General Election is held in Poland by ballot and with universal suffrage and free candidatures. Once this is done His Majesty’s Government will salute the Government that emerges without regard to the Polish Government in London. It is the interval before the election that is causing us so much anxiety.”
Molotov said that perhaps the talks in Moscow would have some useful result. The Poles would have to have their say, and it was very difficult to deal with the question without them. I agreed, but said that it was so important that the Conference should separate on a note of agreement that we must all struggle patiently to achieve it.
Stalin then took up my complaint that I had no information and no way of getting it.
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“I have a certain amount,” I replied.
“It doesn’t agree with mine,” he answered, and proceeded to make a speech, in which he assured us that the Lublin Government was really very popular, particularly Bierut and others. They had not left the country during the German occupation, but had lived all the time in Warsaw and came from the Underground movement. He did not believe they were geniuses. The London Government might well contain cleverer people, but they were not liked in Poland because they had not been seen there when the population was suffering under the Hitlerite occupation. The populace saw on the streets the members of the Provisional Government, but asked where were the London Poles. This undermined the prestige of the London Government, and was the reason why the Provisional Government, though not great men, enjoyed great popularity.
All this, he said, could not be ignored if we wanted to understand the feelings of the Polish people. I had feared the Conference would separate before we reached agreement. What then was to be done? The various Governments had different information, and drew different conclusions from it. Perhaps the first thing was to call together the Poles from the different camps and hear what they had to say. The day was near when elections could be held. Until then we must deal with the Provisional Government, as we had dealt with General de Gaulle’s Government in France, which also was not elected. He did not know whether Bierut or General de Gaulle enjoyed greater authority, but it had been possible to make a treaty with General de Gaulle, so why couldn’t we do the same with an enlarged Polish Government, which would be no less democratic? If we approached the matter without prejudice we should be able to find a common ground. The situation was not as tragic as I thought, and the question could be settled if too much importance was not attached to secondary matters and if we concentrated on essentials.
“How soon,” asked the President, “will it be possible to hold elections?”
“Within a month,” Stalin replied, “unless there is some catastrophe on the front, which is improbable.”
I agreed that this would of course set our minds at rest, and we could wholeheartedly support a freely elected Government which would supersede everything else, but we must not ask for anything which would in any way hamper the military operations. These were the supreme end. If however the will of the Polish people could be ascertained in so short a time, or even within two months, the situation would be entirely different and no one could oppose it.
When we reassembled at four o’clock in the afternoon of February 9 Molotov produced a new formula, namely, that the Lublin Government should be “reorganised [as opposed to ‘enlarged’] on a wider democratic basis, with the inclusion of democratic leaders from Poland itself, and also from those living abroad”. He and the British and American Ambassadors should consult together in Moscow about how this would be done. Once “reorganised” the Lublin Government would be pledged to hold free elections as soon as possible, and we should then recognise whatever Government emerged.
This was a considerable advance, and I said so, but I felt it my duty to sound a general warning. This would be the last but one of our meetings.* There was an atmosphere of agreement, but there was also a desire to put foot in the stirrup and be off. We could not, I declared, afford to allow the settlement of these important matters to be hurried and the fruits of the Conference lost for lack of another twenty-four hours. A great prize was in view and decisions must be unhurried. These might well be among the most important days in our lives.
Mr. Roosevelt declared that the differences between us and the Russians were now largely a matter of words, but both he and I were anxious that the elections should really be fair and free. I told Stalin that we were at a great disadvantage, because we knew so little of what was going on inside Poland and yet had to take great decisions of responsibility. I knew, for instance, that there was bitter feeling among the Poles, and I had been told that the Lublin Government had openly said it would try all members of the Polish Home Army and Underground movement as traitors. Of course, I put the security of the Red Army first, but I begged Stalin to consider our difficulty. The British Government did not know what was going on inside Poland, except through dropping brave men by parachute and bringing members of the Underground movement out. We had no other means of knowing, and did not like getting our information in this way. Could this be remedied without hampering the movements of the Soviet troops? Could any facilities be granted to the British (and no doubt to the United States) for seeing how these Polish quarrels were being settled? Tito had said that when elections took place in Yugoslavia he would not object to Russian, British, and American observers being present to report impartially to the world that they had been carried out fairly. So far as Greece was concerned, His Majesty’s Government would greatly welcome American, Russian, and British observers to make sure the elections were conducted as the people wished. The same applied to Italy—Russian, American, and British observers should be present to assure the world that everything had been done in a fair way. It was impossible, I said, to exaggerate the importance of carrying out elections fairly. For instance, would Mikolaiczyk be able to go back to Poland and organise his party for the elections?
“That will have to be considered by the Ambassadors and M. Molotov when they meet the Poles,” said Stalin.
I replied, “I must be able to tell the House of Commons that the elections will be free and that there will be effective guarantees that they are freely and fairly carried out.”
Stalin pointed out that Mikolajczyk belonged to the Peasant Party, which, as it was not a Fascist party, could take part in the elections and put up candidates. I said that this would be still more certain if the Peasant Party were already represented in the Polish Government, and Stalin agreed that one of their representatives should be included. I added that I hoped that nothing I had said had given offence, since nothing had been further from my heart.
“We shall have to hear,” he answered, “what the Poles have to say.” I explained that I wanted to be able to carry the eastern frontier question through Parliament, and I thought this might be done if Parliament was satisfied that the Poles had been able to decide for themselves what they wanted.
“There are some very good people among them,” he replied. “They are good fighters, and they have had some good scientists and musicians, but they are very quarrelsome.”
“All I want,” I answered, “is for all sides to get a fair hearing.”
“The elections,” said the President, “must be above criticism, like Caesar’s wife. I want some kind of assurance to give to the world, and I don’t want anybody to be able to question their purity. It is a matter of good politics rather than principle.”
Mr. Stettinius suggested having a written pledge that the three Ambassadors in Warsaw should observe and report that the elections were really free and unfettered. “I am afraid,” said Molotov, “that if we do this the Poles will feel they are not trusted. We had better discuss it with them.”
I was not content with this, and resolved to raise it with Stalin later on. The opportunity presented itself next day, when Mr. Eden and I had a private conversation with him and Molotov at the Yusupov Villa. I once more explained how difficult it was for us to have no representatives in Poland who could report what was going on. The alternatives were either an Ambassador with an embassy staff or newspaper correspondents. The latter was less desirable, but I pointed out that I should be asked in Parliament about the Lublin Government and the elections and I must be able to say that I knew what was happening.
“After the new Polish Government is recognised it would be open to you to send an Ambassador to Warsaw,” Stalin answered.
“Would he be free to move about the country?”
“As far as the Red Army is concerned, there will be no interference with his movements, and I promise to give the necessary instructions, but you will have to make your own arrangements with the Polish Government.”
We then agreed to add the following to our declaration:
As a consequence of the above, recognition would entail an exchange of Ambassadors, by whose reports the respective Governments would be informed about the situation in Poland.
This was the best I could get.
Sunday, February 11, was the last day of our Crimean visit. As usual at these meetings many grave issues were left unsettled. The Polish declaration laid down in general terms a policy which if carried out with loyalty and good faith might indeed have served its purpose pending the general Peace Treaty. The President was anxious to go home, and on his way to pay a visit to Egypt, where he could discuss the affairs of the Middle East with various potentates. Stalin and I lunched with him in the Czar’s former billiard-room at the Livadia Palace. During the meal we signed the final documents and official communiqués. All now depended upon the spirit in which they were carried out.
I had much looked forward to the sea voyage through the Dardanelles to Malta, but I felt it my duty to make a lightning trip to Athens and survey the Greek scene after the recent troubles. Early on February 14 accordingly we set off by car for Saki, where our aeroplane awaited us. We flew without incident to Athens, making a loop over the island of Skyros to pass over the tomb of Rupert Brooke, and were received at the airfield by the British Ambassador, Mr. Leeper, and General Scobie. Only seven weeks before I had left the Greek capital rent by street-fighting. We now drove into it in an open car, where only a thin line of kilted Greek soldiers held back a vast mob, screaming with enthusiasm, in the very streets where hundreds of men had died in the Christmas days when I had last seen the city. That evening a huge crowd of about fifty thousand people gathered in Constitution Square. The evening light was wonderful as it fell on these classic scenes. I had no time to prepare a speech. Our security services had thought it important that we should arrive with hardly any notice. I addressed them with a short harangue. That evening I dined at our shot-scarred Embassy, and in the early hours of February 15 we took off in my plane for Egypt.
Late that morning the American cruiser Quincy steamed into Alexandria harbour, and shortly before noon I went on board for what was to be my last talk with the President. We gathered afterwards in his cabin for an informal family luncheon. I was accompanied by Sarah and Randolph, and Mr. Roosevelt’s daughter, Mrs. Boettiger, joined us, together with Harry Hopkins and Mr. Winant. The President seemed placid and frail. I felt that he had a slender contact with life. I was not to see him again. We bade affectionate farewells. That afternoon the Presidential party sailed for home. On February 19 I flew back to England. Northolt was fog-bound, and our plane was diverted to Lyneham. I drove on to London by car, stopping at Reading to join my wife, who had come to meet me.
At noon on February 27 I asked the House of Commons to approve the results of the Crimea Conference. The general reaction was unqualified support for the attitude we had taken. There was however intense moral feeling about our obligations to the Poles, who had suffered so much at German hands and on whose behalf as a last resort we had gone to war. A group of about thirty Members felt so strongly on this matter that some of them spoke in opposition to the motion which I had moved. There was a sense of anguish lest we should have to face the enslavement of a heroic nation. Mr. Eden supported me. In the division on the second day we had an overwhelming majority, but twenty-five Members, most of them Conservatives, voted against the Government, and in addition eleven members of the Government abstained.
It is not permitted to those charged with dealing with events in times of war or crisis to confine themselves purely to the statement of broad general principles on which good people agree. They have to take definite decisions from day to day. They have to adopt postures which must be solidly maintained, otherwise how can any combinations for action be maintained? It is easy, after the Germans are beaten, to condemn those who did their best to hearten the Russian military effort and to keep in harmonious contact with our great Ally, who had suffered so frightfully. What would have happened if we had quarrelled with Russia while the Germans still had two or three hundred divisions on the fighting front? Our hopeful assumptions were soon to be falsified. Still, they were the only ones possible at the time.