On the eve of World War II, Krystyna Wituska, a carefree, rather spoiled teenager attending finishing school in Switzerland, returned to Poland. During the Occupation, when she was twenty years old, she drifted into the Polish Underground. By her own admission, she was attracted at first by the adventure, but youthful bravado soon turned into a mental and spiritual mastery over fear.
Because Krystyna spoke fluent German she was assigned to collect information on German troop movements at Warsaw airport. In 1942, at the age of twenty-one, she was arrested by the Gestapo and transferred to prison in Berlin where she was executed two years later.
In the last eighteen months of her life Krystyna wrote over sixty letters which, through the kindness of a courageous prison guard, were smuggled to her parents or the guard's daughter who became her penpal. From the moment she was arrested, Krystyna would not allow her spirit to be broken and believed that "the noble that is within us will not perish." It is Krystyna's humanity that unites her with other victims of war and other resistance fighters, and enables us to identify with her even though her ordeal was outside the scope of our experience.
From a letter smuggled from Moabit Prison, Berlin 25 April 1943. Beloved parents! I will ask permission to send you all the things which I will no longer need. I am so glad that the other two girls got lighter sentences. I love them both like sisters. People on the outside imagine that someone sentenced to death must go mad from fear and anguish. In fact, it's quite the contrary. Maybe that's because it's beyond comprehension. I couldn't sleep the first night and I cried a bit, but only because of you, my best and most beloved Mummy. I didn't even consider suicide-I will not take on myself the responsibility for my death. ... You must be brave, my best Mummy, hold your head high and forgive me for putting you through this. Maybe...maybe it will still turn out all right. There is plenty of time for sadness. I am also worried about Zbyszek. Better not write to him yet about what happened. He is sad enough right now. I am sure he will not grieve too long; I was for him, at most, a beautiful dream. When we were at the Alex [prison] I prepared him for the worst and he promised me that he would not be silly. ... Spring is magnificent here. The lilacs are in bloom, as are the magnolias and the chestnut trees. I finally got to see a bit of Berlin going to the [military] war court. We drove past the Zoological Gardens. When you see everything bursting with life, it's impossible to think about death. Once again I beg of you. Hold your heads high. I think of you all the time and send kisses from the bottom of my heart. Your Tina.
Dearest, beloved Mummy, don't cry so much!
