This Memoir segment is a scene in Poland when I was Chief of Staff to Director Paul Coverdell, the Wall was falling, and we were meeting with the Deputy Minister of Education, our first step towards Peace Corps Poland.
After Budapest, we arrived in Warsaw at five thirty p.m., Oct, 16, 1989, the sun already setting. News of an imminent resignation of President Honecker in East Germany made news in the airport. People along the roadway stayed close to radios, their faces anxious.
Ambassador Davis greeted us with good news. “The Deputy Minister of Education wants to meet you in an hour. He’s staying late in his office to do so.” We drove into the city, the Ambassador’s voice describing our journey. “You see the Germans bombed eighty-five percent of Warsaw in 1944, destroying a society, a country. The Soviet Union then replaced bombed-out buildings with grey fortress looking buildings lining downtown streets block by block. You can count the fragile metal balconies clinging to the sides and shapeless chimneys on top. No interest in beauty.”
Ambassador Davis continued, “By coincidence, the deputy minister’s office is in one of the fifteen percent of buildings the Germans left standing. At 25 Szucha Ave, this imposing structure housed the German Gestapo and today is the Museum of Struggle and Martyrdom.”
As we arrived and stepped onto the pavement, the Ambassador pointed to the sign at the door’s grand entrance: the only authentic place of Nazi torture in Warsaw. “During the Second World War, it was an interrogation center, where Polish prisoners were horrendously tortured. The museum houses ten actual imprisonment cells where doomed detainees were tortured, killed, and their bodies then stored. I’m surprised the Ministry of Education has its offices here.”
We studied the sign. Here… Torture… Death… Remembrance… Paul hesitated before entering this place of WWII evil.
We stepped inside. Rainy and now dark outside, light and elegant inside. A sign pointed down the stairs to the basement cells and museum. A large crystal chandelier lit the carved mahogany foyer and a lush red carpet extended to a broad stairway of the same carved wood leading to the next floor. We walked along the carpet and up the stairs, our foot sounds absorbed in the surrounding lushness. At the top of the stairs, the carpet disappeared, and the hallway became narrower. A cluster of lightbulbs replaced the chandelier. We kept walking, up another set of stairs, into a narrower hall and then finally into a small room: one lightbulb, a plain wood desk, three metal chairs facing the desk, and no windows.
Deputy Minister Tadeusz Diem put his pen down, closed his notebook, and stood up to greet us, his chair scraping the floor.
“Welcome to my office. I’m sorry about how it looks, but we are new here. As you know, our government is only a few months old, and still finding its way in this new democratic environment.”
The chairs were hard as we sat. Images of Nazis, bombings, cries of tortured men, marching German and Soviet soldiers were present with us. Countered by soft-spoken Deputy Minister Diem, he offered greetings and then, sitting tall as he began, made his appeal. This bare room with one light and one man making a request for Peace Corps reminded me of Kennedy’s words and Peace Corps’ beginning.
Deputy minister Diem said, “We want Volunteers to teach English in teacher training centers throughout the country. We have thousands of teachers of Russian, Poland’s second language, but we now want to shift to English and retrain our teachers in this global language of business and trade. Our young people have opportunities unavailable to them before, but they need English to reach beyond our borders to the West. You can give us English, the tool we need to thrive.”
His words mirrored those of the Foreign Minister in Hungary yesterday. By accident of birth, I grew up with this tool, sought by countries in Central and Eastern Europe, a tool Americans take for granted and could now easily share.
“Ambassador Davis called me a few days ago,” Diem said, “telling me what Peace Corps Volunteers offer. His call answered a dream I had for bringing English to Poland. And now you are here. Thank you.”
“We can send you English educators,” Paul said, “about sixty by next summer.”
I gulped while writing the words. No way can we have a program here in eight months. We will disappoint the Ministry. Vice Minister Diem had just described his hope for a new national English education model based on the work of our Volunteers.
Diem continued, “These last couple of months, several representatives from organizations offering aid have sat where you are now sitting. They looked eager and made promises. I haven’t heard from any of these organizations since. I now look at you, Director Coverdell. Will you also disappoint? Is your word good?
“Our word is good. We will have the sixty Volunteers ready to begin the next school year. You can count on us,” Paul said, his words carefully spoken and firm. The commitment made, the effort must succeed.
“Thank you. I want to believe you.” He stopped, stood up, reached across the desk, and shook Paul’s hand. “I will hope.” He sat again, looked at his hands, thought a minute, then raised his head to look at Paul directly. “I apologize for asking this question, but the minister insisted I do.” Paul leaned forward.
“Are you with the CIA?” Both Paul and I let out our breaths, leaned back, and smiled. A simple question.
Paul said, confidently, “No, we can assure you. And your question is normal for people who don’t know us. Our legislation prohibits, and let me say again, prohibits, any interaction with intelligence agencies, including the CIA.
“I thought so. My minister will be pleased.”
After chatting about Poland’s history and hope for the future, we stood and shook hands again, ready to leave.
The Deputy Minister stood straight, cleared his throat, then seemed to hesitate, “Don’t remember us Poles as you see us today. This is not who we are. We are better than this. You will see the real Poland when you return with Volunteers next summer.”
Paul and I walked back down the hall, down the stairs, the red carpet, and to the car without exchanging a word.
“Do you think we can do this?,” I then asked. “Peace Corps has never done it this fast since 1961. I’m worried.”
“We promised. We will. I won’t let Diem down.” We completed our visit and left the following day for Manila. As we arrived at this island nation airport twelve hours later, the announcement of Honecker’s leaving blared on the TV screens. East Germany was to cease as a country.
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