Hitler's Ukrainian swimming pool

Fifteen years ago I went to perhaps the creepiest place I have visited. Deep in a forest outside Kętrzyn in northern Poland are the shattered remains of Wolfschanze, the 'Wolf's Lair', Hitler's principal HQ during Barbarossa - a gloomy clearing where the guide will tell you 'Hitler lived there, Goering just across the road....', and where you can see the site of von Stauffenberg's failed bomb attempt. The Nazis did their best to blow it all up before they left, also generously seeding the surrounding area with landmines. These, I was told, were finally cleared by young Polish Pioneer 'volunteers' during the 1950s - perhaps the most macabre twist of all.

Lesser known is Hitler's Ukrainian HQ, Wehrwolf, near Vinnytsia in Ukraine, which I sought out on Sunday. Arriving in the town by train and wondering where I could get any information, I stumbled across the one institution which would certainly be able to tell me all about it - the local synagogue. Not only that, but Josef, who was hanging around in the office, had nothing to do and also had a car -he would take me there and show me around.

In the ten years 1935-1945 Vinnytsia saw as much or more cold-blooded murder as almost any other corner of Europe. The Nazis were delighted, on taking control of the region, to discover and publicize the mass graves of nearly 10,000 Ukrainians executed by the NKVD -Ukraine's Katyn. They went on vastly to exceed this terror with the murder of local Jews, Ukrainians and POWs. Like many other such towns in Poland and Ukraine, Vinnytsia's present relative prosperity belies its horrific past. Out along the main roads, smart new houses have been built - so you might not notice the sign indicating the sideroad to Wehrwolf. Indeed even if you saw it, you might wonder if you were on the right route, as the bright new villas continue up to and opposite the site.

Not that there turns out to be much to see. There is the open-air swimming pool (above) constructed for the Fuhrer's personal use, and a few scattered concrete blocks. As it happens, Hitler only spent a few weeks in total at Wehrwolf, and probably never used the pool - constructed, like the rest of the site, by forced labour. What the Nazis themselves didn't destroy, including the system of underground bunkers, was thoroughly dismantled by the Soviets. Rather more disconcerting than any potentially sinister remains was the number of local folk casually picnicking on the site, many equipped with portable barbecues.

Just the other side of the highway -and also surrounded by smart new housing, a hotel and a sports centre - Josef showed me another memorial, not directly visible from the road. It stands on another mass grave, where 14,000 Russians, Czechs, Poles, Norwegians and others were dumped by the Nazis. We walked meditatively away, to the plunk of volleys from the adjoining tennis courts.

Crossing the bar

Now for the next instalment of the enthralling saga of my attempts to cross the Slovak/Ukrainain border on foot (see this blog, March 22nd). Yes, I did say attempts, as I have tried again, in May, since I last reported to this blog. On this occassion I first took a look at the border at Cerny nad Tisou but this apparently can only be accessed via rail, and most of the time they seem to cancel the trains (which even when they are running go at unearthly hours such as 05.32 or 23.17). So back to the Uzhorod crossing where, once again blocked by the EU side as a pedestrian, I hitched a lift and crossed as a passenger of a very friendly Ukrainian who not only also gave me a brief guided tour of the town's historic sights, but refused to accept any payment. Many thanks, Ihor!

Today however I received astounding news. My excellent Euro MP (just reelected with a huge vote) Charles Tannock, took up my cause at the European Parliament and received the following response:

According to the information notified by Slovakia, there is no limitation on the use of the border crossing point at Vyšné Nemecké-Užhorod.

As far as local border traffic is concerned, Slovakia and the Ukraine have concluded a bilateral agreement on local border traffic in order to ease trade, social and cultural interchange and regional cooperation. The agreement is applicable to persons lawfully resident in the defined Slovak and Ukrainian border areas.

The Commission will address the Slovak authorities in order to receive clarifications concerning the reported restriction of use by pedestrians of the above-mentioned border crossing point.


That'll teach them all a lesson......

The Spirit of Ukraine

 

Seen at Borispyl airport

Break for the border

For the past week or so I have been in my hideout in Slovakia, which I reached from Kyiv by a tiresome combination of very slow overnight train (to Uzhorod), bus , and more (slow) trains. To mitigate this gruelling sequence on my return, Mrs. S. drove me to the Slovak/Ukrainian border. Uzhorod (whose church is pictured left), and my train, were five minutes drive from the actual crossing. However, had we crossed in the car, whilst the Slovak/Ukraine process is fairly prompt, Mrs. S. would have had to wait five hours or more on the way out again, due to the studied sloth of the Ukrainian customs officers.

I thus resolved, as I had only light hand-luggage, to walk across the border, counting on finding a taxi or thumbing a lift at the other side.

It was not to be. As I approached the Slovak passport control, a lady official approached with a horrified look. No-one was allowed to cross the border on foot. Why? The lady couldn't say - it used to be possible but was no longer so; and that was all we could get out of her. Another officer suggested, off the record, that I seek a lift with a vehicle in transit. First to appear was a Czech van, full to the gills with assorted junk, and thus with no room for me. Next appeared a black Ukrainian Volga whose driver and passenger beckoned me in almost before I had stuck out my thumb. Soon were presenting ourselves before the scandalised lady official who however could scarcely deny the validity of my British passport.

The passport however aroused more interest at the Ukrainian check-point. Presumbably they don't get many Brits coming through. My Ukrainian hosts kindly waited around twidding their thumbs whilst my passport was scrutinised with fluorescent lights and magnifying glasses, and prompted a long telephone call to HQ. Then inevitably I was summoned to an inner lair for close questioning. What was I doing in in Ukraine? Why had I been in Slovakia? How come I spoke Russian? Were did I live in London? How many children did I have? Why did my passport have stamps for Georgia (the republic, not the state)? I jovially gave lengthy and tedious answers, including showing photos of my three grandchildren, till they became bored and sent me back to the car. I rewarded my driver at the station with a 100 hrivnia (£8) note, and the remainder of my journey was uneventful.

But I will write to one of my Euro MPs (the very nice Charles Tannock) to ask why I can't walk out of the EU.