My great-grandfather and grandfather, at the end of the World War, found themselves in a new country. Historically, many cities in Northern Germany were themselves independent states, often as part of the Hanseatic League. Politically, each of these cities were independent, but they were members of a commercial and defensive confederation. Over time, however, these cities were often absorbed into various kingdoms and domains, many of which were incorporated into the Kingdom of Prussia and subsequently became part of various confederations before they all became part of the German Empire. At the end of the war, the state of Poland was made independent again, and incorporated many of the regions that had either a Polish majority or at least a significant Polish minority. One major issue was, however, that this new state had only a limited access to the Baltic Sea, as West and East Prussia were mostly populated by communities of German descent, and the major port, Danzig, was of majority German heritage. To resolve this problem (if "resolution" is the correct word), the region around Danzig was carved out into a newly formed independent city-state, and this city state was bound in a customs union with Poland. The Free City of Danzig (Freie Stadt Danzig) had its own passports and citizens of this new state were neither German nor Polish. 

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It was in this new state that my grandfather, Wilhelm Harder, purchased a homestead in a small town called Halbstadt. The name literally means "Half-City," but a reasonable name in English may be Hemiburgh. On this parcel of land, my uncles Helmut and Wilhelm were born, although Helmut passed away soon after birth, and in 1937, my father was born. This makes my father and uncle one of a very small select individuals: those born with Danziger citizenship, and for these few individuals, the name "city-zen" literally applied.

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When Germany invaded Poland in 1939, they also invaded Danzig, and merged the city into Germany as part of the National-Socialist district of Danzig/West Prussia. At the end of the war, the region was incorporated into the Polish province of Gdańsk, which included surrounding regions both to the east and west of what was the Free State of Danzig. In 1975, this province was split into three, including the provinces of Gdańsk, Elbląg and Słupsk. In 1998, these provinces, together with others, were reorganized into the larger province of Pomerania, and Gdańsk remained the capital thereof. When Danzig was incorporated into Poland, all the cities were renamed, but many of the names reflected the German names, and Halbstadt was renamed Półmieście, which is Polish for "half city" (pół and mieście). Danzig and later Gdańsk has always had a strong history of independence, and this history likely motivated the founding of Solidarity trade union in 1980 in that city's ship yards.

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While Halbstadt was in the Free City of Danzig, it was much closer (less than ten kilometers) to the much older settlement of Marienburg, the fortress and headquarters of the Teutonic Knights. The name means Mary's Castle, named after the mother of Jesus. The walls, battlements and towers are visible from my grandfather's homestead; indeed, the drainage ditch closest to the homestead, and perhaps not by chance, points directly at castle.

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Photographs from the 1980s still showed my grandfather's homestead abandoned on the small rise of land in the middle of a farmer's field. Today, however, all that is left is a brick well; the bricks were removed and likely repurposed, and nothing remains to even indicate the former walls that once formed the walls of the home or the barn. Only the treed hillock remains, together with a wooded length that cuts through the farmer's field leading to the closest road, marking what was eighty years ago the drive way. The magnificent trees that line that way were once saplings planted a century ago. That is all that remains of my father's home for the first seven-and-a-half years of his life.

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While Malbork is more in the fashion of other cities in northern Poland, the city of Gdańsk has the flavor and flair of Amsterdam. Walking down the aisles, one is more likely to think one is walking in the Netherlands than in Poland; the architecture of the old city of Gdańsk is distinctly mannerist.

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My great-grandfather's farm, which my father was to inherit, which I guess in turn would have thus been mine, is today, however, in much better shape. The old barn still stands, as does the house. Now, that being said, I would never consider myself as heir to that property, for I would not even be here had events transpired differently. Today, that farm is in the hands of a wonderful Polish couple, and the husband is formerly from the Polish military, so when I met him a decade ago, I believe we got along well from the start. There is a comradery amongst soldiers, even if they served for different countries.