But how to get in? Pilecki had a solution. It was elegantly simple and utterly deranged: get himself arrested in Warsaw to be dispatched to Auschwitz, then set up an internal resistance movement, collect intelligence, escape and report back.
The Breezer - the joyride for a curious mind: A weekly newsletter from Steve Winduss at the Batting the Breeze podcast. Spend a few minutes with me discovering historical snippets and fascinating facts related to the forthcoming week. Add to that updates relating to the podcast, a touch of humour and a dash of "lots more".14th September 2025.
Happy Sunday Reader! Earlier this week, I was sitting in the garden supping a good ol’ English cup of tea, enjoying the last traces of summer. Mid-sip, the table started shaking and the birdsong was replaced with the deafening roar of an RAF Eurofighter Typhoon. It didn't take too much head scratching to work out what was going on. Tomorrow is the 85th anniversary of Battle of Britain Day, 15 September 1940.
From July to October 1940, young RAF pilots in Spitfires and Hurricanes confronted waves of German bombers and fighters determined to reduce English cities to rubble. Winston Churchill dramatically referred to the heroic resistance of British and Allied pilots as their 'finest hour'. This was the Battle of Britain. That September day turned out to be the decisive moment of the Battle of Britain, when Hitler’s Luftwaffe attacked London with extraordinary numbers but suffered its most significant losses. The outcome proved to Hitler that he would not be able to rule the skies. His plan to invade Britain - Operation Sea Lion - would be abandoned two days later.
So, with the Battle of Britain Day commemoration coming up, the Eurofighters are in town. They are spectacular to watch... and spectacularly loud.
I live about five miles from Bournemouth Airport, which is used as a base by the Red Arrows and other squadrons in the RAF while on air display duty throughout the summer.
Our house sits directly under the flight path into the airport, hence the Eurofighter flying overhead so low I could have reached out and touched it. Very stirring.
RAF Eurofighter Typhoon.
Out of Curiosity
Bournemouth locals chuckled when the local Hurn Airport - an establishment about the size of a moderately ambitious garden centre - received a promotional facelift sometime in the 1990s. It was renamed Bournemouth International Airport, on the grounds of its weekly flight to the Channel Islands, I guess. Interestingly, between 1944-1946, Hurn Airport served as London’s main International Airport (despite being 100 miles from London) until Heathrow Airport opened in 1946.
When you read about Battle of Britain Day, there are so many stories of heroism that it’s hard for any one story to stand out. But today I put forward a candidate for that honour, and I’ll come back to it later. Before I do, I need to share the story of a man so brave that the hairs on the back of your neck will bristle. There are heroes, superheroes… and then there is Witold Pilecki. History is littered with tales of prisoners trying to break out of Auschwitz. But have you ever heard of someone deliberately trying to get in?
Witold Pilecki was born on 13 May 1901 in Olonets, a small spiritually Polish town, but geographically part of the Russian Empire. The early 1900s were hardly a tranquil time to grow up in Poland. The country had been carved up in 1795, shared between Russia, Prussia and Austria-Hungary. This left Polish families like the Pileckis to navigate the peculiar challenge of remaining patriotically Polish while holding Russian citizenship. Pilecki’s childhood was dominated by the effects of the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-05, the 1905 Revolution that set the scene for the later downfall of Tsar Nicholas II, and World War I. Witold’s coming of age involved a brief stint in the Polish-Soviet War of 1919-21, defending Poland’s independence from the Soviet Union.
Witold Pilecki, pre 1939
A period of normality followed; Pilecki managed his family estate, raised two children with his wife Maria Ostrowska and involved himself in general community activities in Sukurcze, near Lida, in present-day Belarus. However, it was not too long before the storm clouds gathered and World War II loomed on the horizon. The Nazis stormed Poland on 1 September 1939 and proceeded to decimate Polish society. At the top of their list was the elimination of Polish intellectuals and military leadership. This was 'Intelligenzaktion'. As a Polish cavalry reservist with a reputation for fierce nationalism, Pilecki was a marked man. The capital city, Warsaw, fell later in the month. The Polish government fled the country and Pilecki helped to establish the Secret Polish Army, the national underground resistance movement. As early as 1940, dark stories began emerging from the town of Oświęcim, 170 miles southwest of Warsaw. The Germans had converted a Polish army barracks into something far more sinister. This was Hell. They called it ‘Auschwitz’. Nobody was quite sure what was happening inside Auschwitz. Information trickled out, but the Allies dismissed most reports as too extreme to be credible. The Poles were not convinced either. They needed reliable intelligence. They needed someone on the inside. Witold Pilecki volunteered for a trip to Hell. But how to get in? Pilecki had a solution. It was elegantly simple and utterly deranged: get himself arrested in Warsaw to be dispatched to Auschwitz, then set up an internal resistance movement, collect intelligence, escape and report back. By September 1940, the Nazis were completing a ten-foot-high wall around Warsaw city centre. Existing buildings and cemetery walls supplemented the eleven-mile wall. Ethnic Poles were forced out of the centre while the Jewish community from the suburbs was being herded in.
An entrance to the Warsaw Ghetto, 1942.
Eighty-five years ago this Friday, 19 September 1940, Witold Pilecki walked into a street roundup in Warsaw, presenting himself to German authorities as Tomasz Serafiński. Three days later, Prisoner 4859 arrived at Auschwitz. Any naive expectations of an easy ride had been erased during the dehumanising 38-mile trip in a crammed cattle car. The SS designated each carriage to hold up to 50 people. In reality, they packed in more than 100 deportees on each journey. The descent into the underworld had only just begun. The gas chambers were not yet operational, but prisoners were brutally beaten and starved. Disease was endemic and the smell of death permeated the atmosphere.
Witold Pilecki, official Auschwitz photo, 1940.
Pilecki was immersed in human tragedy. The SS guards had perfected human suffering as an art form. Prisoners were dying from Typhus, summary execution, or if they were fortunate, quietly from exhaustion. Putting aside thoughts of the infernal world he was now in, Pilecki set to work. He established a resistance network throughout the camp, gathering and smuggling out what intelligence he could. This information provided the world with its first proof of the true nature of Auschwitz. Pilecki’s intelligence highlighted the starvation, appalling working conditions, human medical experiments and an industrial-scale extermination program. The new intelligence network within Auschwitz lifted spirits among the prisoners, even if it didn’t immediately stir the Allies to action. Pilecki had brought hope, however fragile. As well as maintaining contact with the Polish underground, the rudimentary network managed to stockpile weapons and identify potential escape routes. By April 1943, after two and a half years in hell, Pilecki decided his usefulness lay beyond the barbed wire. He also believed he was about to be transferred to who-knows-where. Auschwitz was now a death factory, with 4,400 poor souls ‘processed’ through the gas chambers and crematoria each day. In addition, the Nazis were methodically picking off Pilecki’s underground organisation in Warsaw. Pilecki’s plan to get out was almost as simple as his plan had been to get in. He engineered a transfer to the camp bakery with two other co-conspirators, Edward Ciesielski and Jan Redzej. The bakery sat two miles outside the main camp. During a night shift on 26 April while the guards were temporarily distracted, the three individuals cut through telephone lines and alarm wires. They removed bolts from the heavy metal bakery door and forced it open. Having then disarmed a guard, they just walked out. Walking turned to running. As the escapees dashed for the tree line, a hail of bullets whistled around them. In the pitch dark, they ran, crossed rivers, fought through dense forest and ran again until they were exhausted. Imagine three escapees in soaking wet, pin-striped prison uniforms being hunted by the irate Nazi apparatus. They had little chance. Through several nights of careful movement, the kindness of Polish locals who fed and sheltered them during the day, and sheer bloody-mindedness, the trio reached relative safety against all the odds. Pilecki’s testimony provided crucial evidence about the atrocities of the Holocaust. He provided the first comprehensive eyewitness account from inside a Nazi death camp.
‘Selection on the ramp’ at Auschwitz-Birkenau, 1944. Prisoners from the latest deportation train arrival are sorted: Jews were either sent to work or to the gas chamber.
Witold remained active in the Polish resistance for the remainder of the war. However, his decision not to flee to the west would prove fatal. The post-war Polish communist government viewed Pilecki as a threat. In 1947, he was arrested by the secret police, tortured, and put through a show trial on trumped-up espionage charges. On 25 May 1948, Witold was executed.
Witold Pilecki’s story remained unknown for decades. His children believed that he was a traitor, only learning the truth after 1989, once the communist government had been removed and Poland had again become a free nation. Although Pilecki’s extraordinary mission failed to rouse the Allies to immediate action, his selflessness had raised the spirits of thousands for whom all hope had gone. He demonstrated that human courage has no limit when fueled by unshakeable belief. Pilecki believed in his family, friends, country and above all… freedom. Footnote: I discovered the story of Witold Pilecki back in 2021 when I read a book by Jack Fairweather called ‘The Volunteer, The True Story of the Resistance Hero Who Infiltrated Auschwitz’. I believe it was the first significant account of Pilecki’s extraordinary journey. Thoroughly recommended.
Dates with History
Monday… One hundred and ninety-five years ago tomorrow, 15 September 1830, the prominent British politician William Huskisson was about to secure his place in history, but not quite the way he intended perhaps. The Liverpool and Manchester Railway was opening, the world’s first inter-city passenger railway. This was a big day. To mark the importance of the occasion, the Duke of Wellington - current Prime Minister and hero from the Battle of Waterloo (he keeps popping up, doesn’t he?) - would be attending. Huskisson was on the invitation list as the Chairman of the Board of Trade and a passionate supporter of the railways.
William Huskisson, c1820s. Portrait by Richard Rothwell, on display at the National Gallery, London.
At 10:30, the ‘Northumbrian’ pulled away from Liverpool Station carrying the dignitaries of the day. On a parallel track, seven other trains also travelled in convoy, with some distance between each. After 17 miles, the driver of the Northumbrian, the renowned George Stephenson himself, stopped at Parkside station to take on water. Some of the passengers stood up to stretch. Huskisson climbed out of his carriage and walked along the track to pay his respects to the Duke. As they shook hands, someone spotted a locomotive closing fast on the other track. They yelled at Huskisson to jump into the carriage. Unfortunately for him, as he grabbed the carriage door, it swung out straight into the path of the oncoming train. Huskisson was hit by none other than ‘Rocket’, George Stephenson’s legendary locomotive. He wasn’t killed outright and, ironically, it was Rocket that sped him towards Manchester for life-saving medical attention. Nonetheless, William Huskisson died that night to become the world’s first passenger railway casualty.
Saturday Robert Francis Kennedy was born 100 years ago this Saturday, 20 November 1925, in Brookline, Massachusetts. He was born into perhaps the most scrutinised family dynasty in history. His father, Joseph Kennedy, was determined that his sons would achieve power and influence across America. His eldest son, Joe Jnr., died in World War II, putting John F. Kennedy at the centre of his political ambitions. JFK achieved the Presidency in 1961, appointing brother Robert to be his Attorney General at the age of 35. Although devastated by his brother’s assassination in November 1963, Robert launched his own presidential campaign in 1968. On 5 June 1968, having just won the Californian primary, Robert Kennedy was assassinated in the Los Angeles Ambassador Hotel kitchen by Sirhan Sirhan, a 24-year-old Palestinian-born Jordanian.
Out of Curiosity
Robert Kennedy’s assassin, Sirhan Sirhan, was sentenced to death in 1969. This sentence was commuted to life imprisonment when California abolished the death penalty in 1972. Sirhan Sirhan is still alive today, currently 81 years old and incarcerated at Richard J. Donovan Correctional Facility near San Diego, California. Sirhan Sirhan has been denied parole 16 times.
Sirhan Sirhan, 2021.
Talk to me...
Some of you signed up for The Breezer through platforms where you couldn't leave your first name. So, when I send out the newsletter each week, it feels like writing a personal letter to someone without putting their name at the top of the page. It's not doing my OCD any good at all! If I haven't opened this newsletter with your name, feel free to drop me an email at steve@battingthebreeze.com; just enter your first name in the Subject and send. (If you want to tell me any more about yourself at the same time that would be amazing too.) Thanks, Steve
Question of the Week
She was born in Stockholm, Sweden in 1905. She was one of cinema’s greatest enigmas. Her name is still remembered by so many people, even though recall of her films is almost non-existent. For instance, have you heard of Camille (1936), where her death scene has been described as ‘one of the greatest performances in cinema history’? Or what about ’Ninotchka’ or ‘Queen Christina’? She was originally spotted by a film director visiting the department store in Stockholm where she was modelling hats in 1920. (Random!) At the height of her fame she was earning about $5 million per film in today’s money. In 1941 at the age of 35, she walked away from Hollywood. For most of her remaining 50 years, she lived in a seven-room Manhattan apartment. She was described as a recluse, but actually maintained a healthy social life - she just avoided publicity. (I guess Hollywood would call that a recluse.) She died in New York City in 1990, aged 84. Who was she?
And Finally…
Back to that story at the start of today’s Breezer… As I mentioned, tomorrow is the 85th anniversary of Battle of Britain Day, 15 September 1940. The Battle of Britain lasted 113 days, but 68 days into the conflict, this day was decisive. By September, the Luftwaffe had been pounding English cities for over nine weeks. Hitler’s failure to secure air superiority had driven him to launch increasingly desperate bombing campaigns. Without command of British skies, Operation Sea Lion - his planned invasion of Britain - remained impossible. The Royal Air Force remained defiant. Winter was approaching fast, and with it, the end of any realistic invasion window. Hitler needed a breakthrough now. This was perhaps his final roll of the dice. Fifteen hundred Heinkel, Junkers and Dornier bombers darkened the skies above Southern England like a biblical plague of locusts. The assault continued in waves through to the afternoon. Nearly every remaining RAF fighter plane was in the sky. Spitfires and Hurricanes danced around the German bombers with the commitment of angry wasps at a summer picnic.
One of those angry wasps that day was being flown by RAF Hurricane fighter pilot Sergeant Raymond Thomas Holmes. He was 26 years old at a time when a fighter pilot measured their life expectancy in terms of weeks, not years. Holmes was flying with 504 Squadron out of RAF Hendon. He was picking off targets over the centre of London, the very heart of the British establishment.
Out of Curiosity
Two days before Battle of Britain Day, 13 September 1940, the first bomb of World War II had landed on Buckingham Palace. The Royal chapel was destroyed. King George VI and Queen Elizabeth were in residence at the time and refused to move out. The Palace would be bombed a further eight times during the war.
Holmes spotted a formation of three Dornier D17 bombers below him at an altitude of approximately 16,000 feet. He aligned himself with the first Dornier…
I made my attack on this bomber and he spurted out a lot of oil, just a great stream over my aeroplane. blotting out my windscreen. I couldn’t see a damn thing. Then, as the windscreen cleared, I suddenly found myself going straight into his tail. So I stuck my stick forward and went under him, practically grazing my head on his belly. RAYMOND HOLMES
Dornier D17 bomber raid, 1940.
After another close call with the second Dornier, Holmes’ attention was drawn to the third, which appeared to be heading for Buckingham Palace. The eager pilot rose steeply ahead of the bomber to avoid gunfire, then turned back towards it. Holmes pulled the trigger. Nothing. His ammunition was spent. In a few moments, the German bomber would drop its payload on the Palace. Holmes had seconds to collect his thoughts. No time to radio for help, no time to seek support from his squadron. The plucky pilot took action straight out of Witold Pilecki’s book of simple solutions; He would fly his Hurricane directly into the tail fin of the Dornier.* Moments later, Holmes rammed the bomber.
I didn’t allow for the fact that the tail fin was actually part of the main fuselage. Although I didn’t know it at the time, I found out later that I had knocked off the whole back half of the aircraft including the twin tails. RAYMOND HOLMES
Within seconds, both planes were tumbling out of the sky. Holmes managed to bail out, landing in an unsuspecting nearby Chelsea back garden. The bomber, twice the weight of the Hurricane, fell like a stone, crashing into the forecourt of Victoria Station a mile southwest of Buckingham Palace, exploding into a fireball. Two of the five crew survived.
An illustration of the Dornier D17 bomber just after Ray Holmes’ Hurricane had sliced through its tail. Courtesy Geoff Nutkins.
At the close, 61 German bombers had been brought down, 4% of their total stock that day. This may not seem like a crippling number out of a total of 1,550 aircraft, but it represented the greatest German loss in weeks. It convinced Hitler that the backbone of the RAF had not been broken, and possibly couldn’t be. The planned Operation Sea Lion was aborted. As Churchill had said to the House of Commons a month earlier on 16 August 1940…
The gratitude of every home in our Island, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, except in the abodes of the guilty, goes out to the British airmen who, undaunted by odds, unwearied in their constant challenge and mortal danger, are turning the tide of world war by their prowess and by their devotion. Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. WINSTON CHURCHILL
Incredibly, the tailless Dornier D17 brought down by Ray Holmes is captured on camera just before impact at Victoria Station, 15 September 1940.
Ray Holmes’ Hurricane was discovered 65 years later during an excavation, while the only recovered piece of the Dornier was one of its engines, on display today in the RAF Museum at Hendon. As for RAF pilot Raymond Holmes, after the war he worked as a King’s Messenger, delivering mail personally for Winston Churchill. He died aged 90 in June 2005. *Perhaps it was the other way around, with Witold Pilecki taking action straight out of Ray Holmes' book, since he was taken into Auschwitz four days after Holmes’ heroics.
Thank you for joining me. Have a great week!
Steve
HOST & CHIEF STORY HUNTER
P:S: Incidentally, I am always keen to receive your feedback to help me continuously improve this newsletter and the podcast. Just hit reply to this email and...... let it rip! I respond to every email that I receive.
The legend who walked away from Hollywood for the last 50 years of her life was Greta Garbo. Garbo was born Greta Lovisa Gustafsson 120 years ago this Thursday, 18 September 1905. The director, Mauritz Stiller, changed her last name to ‘Garbo’ in 1923 to sound more sophisticated and internationally recognisable - well, he wasn’t wrong there.
Greta Garbo, 1930s.
Out of Curiosity
Greta Garbo dined with John and Jackie Kennedy at the White House on 13 November 1963, nine days before Kennedy’s assassination.
ATTRIBUTIONS
An illustration of the Dornier D17 bomber just after Ray Holmes’ Hurricane had sliced through its tail. Courtesy Geoff Nutkins.
The tailless Dornier D17, public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.
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