“Here are the Poles.” Graves that barely anyone remembers

Polish names are seen in telephone books and on gravestones everywhere. All over the world. I saw them at the monumental cemetery in Arlington, Washington, D.C., at the waryards in Dakar and Beirut, and countless tiny and large necropolises in Europe. Last summer, I came to stand in a place where the ashes of Polish soldiers were besides deposited. He didn't kill them, they didn't die in the field of glory. They gave up the spirit on the cross road in order to put on uniforms with Polish distinctions.