Gareth Jones

[bas relief by Oleh Lesiuk]



Stop Press


Complete Soviet Articles & Background Information


Précis of Gareth's Soviet Famine Articles


All Published Articles




Tell Them We Are Starving




Eyewitness to the Holodomor



More Than Grain of Truth



Manchukuo Incident





'Are you Listening NYT?'  U.N. Speech - Nov 2009


Gareth Recognised at Cambridge - Nov 2009


Reporter and the Genocide - Rome, March 2009


Order of Freedom Award -Nov 2008


Premiere of 'The Living' Documentary Kyiv - Nov 2008


Gareth Jones 'Famine' Diaries - Chicago 2008


Aberystwyth Memorial Plaque 2006





Scholarship Fund


Site Map




Legal Notices


Sponsored Links







(NOTE. Mr. Gareth Jones travelled from Dresden via Berlin, and across, a part of Poland, to the Free State of Danzig, where he interviewed the leading authorities.  He now describes his return journey to Berlin.) 


At last we are off.  After rushing across the aerodrome field, and then bumping slightly, the aeroplane has left the ground, and beneath us we see the fields, roads houses, shores, and woods of one of the most fateful regions in all Europe. 

The aeroplane is beginning to rock.  Each time the pilot tries to rise one wing goes up and the other down.  I stand up to take my overcoat off and am tossed into my seat again.  

No wonder the aeroplane is two hours late.  A strong wind was blowing when Professor Haferkorn, who was once lecturer at Aberystwyth College and mastered Welsh, brought me to the airport nearly three hours ago.  We waited in the restaurant, which had many pictures of Bismarck.  I went to buy my ticket and found that my name was written on it as “Professor de Jong.” 

I was fated to remain in the Free State of Danzig, which was torn away from Germany by the Treaty of Versailles, more hours than I expected, for a messenger entered and announced:

“Ladies and gentleman.  Due to the very strong wind, the aeroplane had to turn back, but is now on its way, and will be two hours late.” 

Historic Line 

The whirr of the engine was at last heard.  We went out and saw the machine, on which was written: MOSCOW-BERLIN.  The words made one feel that one was really in Eastern Europe and going to fly along part of the historic line Moscow-Berlin, which connects Asia with Europe, with Communism, Capitalism, and the land of entrenched proletarian dictatorship with that of growing Fascism. 

The Moscow-Berlin plane is now rocking over the Baltic coast.  The Baltic is looking bright blue, although from the west black storm-clouds come.  If I look around I can see the city of Danzig, which is about as large as Cardiff. 

A small steamier is entering Danzig harbour, about which diplomats have been fighting since 1919.  That streak is the Vistula.  Now exactly underneath is the Monte Carlo of the North, Zoppot.  The casino and the pier can be clearly seen.  Near the sea one has a glimpse of the two prewar villas of the Crown Prince, and one recalls that he was most popular with be Danzigers. 

The Corridor 

It is getting difficult to write, for the wind seems to be growing stronger.  Underneath is the railway which links Danzig with the Fatherland.  We are now flying over woods.  The plane has several times dropped suddenly and then rocked.  A little snow remains on the round. 

We are leaving the Baltic-but one moment.  There is a port-one only gets a slight view of it-it does not look, a natural harbour at all.  It is Gdynia, and was recently built by Poland. 

Now we are flying over the Polish Corridor.  There are more woods underneath and a lake here and there.  We must have crossed the frontier between the Danzig Free State and Poland.  How that German pilot must boil with rage when be thinks that his East Prussia is separated from the rest of Prussia by that narrow stretch of territory belonging to Poland and extending to the sea! 

The land is very flat underneath.  We are flying about 1,000 to 1,500 feet high, and can see the peasants’ huts, some with straw roofs, some with tiled roofs.  Over there is a brick factory-the only factory to be seen.  The rest of the land is farming land, with a village here and there, lakes, and many small pine forests.  Some of those villages are inhabited by a tribe called Kashubes.  So that is the Polish Corridor. 

Forced Down 

No more blue sky left now.  The aeroplane is rattling and shaking.  There are more storm-clouds in front.  I am beginning to regret the excellent meal I took of pork cutlets and pancakes.  The aeroplane has just recovered from a drop in the worst air-pocket I have ever experienced. 

By a lake which is frozen over there is some timber.  It is difficult to realise that that stretch of land which has only a few villages and woods and fields is one of the danger spots of Europe and that millions of Germans would willingly die to win it back. 

The aeroplane is tossing still more violently.  This article will have to be finished elsewhere.      


A few hours ago I had never heard of Stolp.  But now we are forced to spend the night here.  I saw the passengers get alarmed as the wings of the aeroplane seemed to go up still higher and down.  At last we saw a town to the north.  The pilot flew for it and before long we made our forced landing smoothly. 

Bulwark of Germanism 

A man came rushing up, opened the door, and said: “There’s another colossal storm coming.”  The pilot came out.  “Impossible to fly further; It’s dangerous,” he said.  “We’ve taken an hour and a quarter to do 55 miles.  The force of the wind against us was terrific.” 

Thus we find ourselves in this typical Prussian town, which has as its hero Blücher, is proud of its soldiers, and considers itself a bulwark of Germanism near the Polish Corridor. 

To-morrow we fly on to Berlin-when the storm has died down. 

One day a far more violent storm may break over the Polish Corridor.  The names Danzig, Gdynia, East Prussia will be on the lips of all.

When that storm of national passions will break no one knows, but the dark clouds are rapidly gathering.  The forces making for strife in this part of Europe I shall describe after the aeroplane has taken me across the Prussian plain and has landed me in the Tempelhofer Aerodrome, Berlin. 








Adolf Hitler, Chancellor of Germany.


Top of Page




Original Research, Content & Site Design by Nigel Linsan Colley. Copyright © 2001-17 All Rights Reserved Original document transcriptions by M.S. Colley.Click here for Legal Notices.  For all further details email:  Nigel Colley or Tel: (+44)  0796 303  8888