Underground fortifications

I've seen some urbexers say that Poland is really difficult for urbex. Within a week of being here, I decided that these people were blind. Poland is the gift that keeps on giving. It seems like everywhere I turn, there's something to see. From these pictures, you'd never guess that a bustling city was only a short walk away. 

These openings in the wall kinda resemble Hobbit houses, but unless the military leaders of the Austrian-Hungary Empire were Tolkien fans and thought of him as an expert military strategist, I think it's probably coincidental. What we actually have here is a huge underground military fortification.

The interior is pretty vast and labyrinthian, and I would absolutely get lost. Fortunately I quite enjoy getting lost. But I was low on camera battery, and the day was low on remaining sunlight. Still, I can't just say no to this place. What does sunset mean to a man with no windows anyway?

Let's slip inside!

I initially assumed that this huge underground complex was built for the second world war, but my estimates were way off. It was actually built in the 1880s, but plans for its construction date back at least as far as 1850.

If we look at the big picture of Europe back then, it was a political powder keg. With hindsight, it's very easy to see that the conflicts and ever-changing borders were setting the stage for an inevitable war for dominance over the continent.

At the time, Poland wasn't really Poland. It was divided between the Austrians, the Germans, and the Russians. The city of Krakow was in the Austrian Empire, and in 1848 it came under the rule of Emperor Franz Joseph I, beloved uncle of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, whose assassination in 1914 would trigger the first world war.

(Franz Joseph. Photo not mine, obviously)

In 1850, Franz Joseph decided to have Krakow fortified. Some say that this was to supervise the city and prevent uprisings, but most historians agree that it was more to do with Krakow's strategic significance if it fell into the hands of those pesky Russians. With Krakow fortified, it would block any attack from Warsaw and also close the road to Vienna. 

Initially such fortifications were built close to the centre of Krakow throughout the 1860s, but with technological advancements in artillery, newer fortifications were built a little further out, to create a wider bubble around Krakow. 

And there's loads of them. Some have been destroyed. Others have been turned into bars, music venues, museums, radio stations and apartments. Some, like this one, are just left to nature. But unfortunately I didn't know about the others when I found this one. Maybe I'll explore them if I ever return to Krakow. 

The Polish, despite having their land divided by other nations, had a pretty fierce sense of national pride. Over the generations there had been numerous failed uprisings, and the resentment from each one was passed down to the next generation. What they lacked in a decent military, they made up for in a sense of cultural identity. It's not too dissimilar to the Welsh, when they were subjugated by the English back in the day. 

With the outbreak of World War One in 1914, Russia, Germany and Austria were suddenly at odds with each other, making Poland the epicentre of the eastern front. Any approaching army from the East would be met with gunfire from this fort. The nearest fort to this one was 3km away, meaning if this one fell to the enemy, they'd actually be punching a pretty big hole in Krakow's defensive perimeter. As a result, it was pretty damn important. 

So these underground fortifications actually got some use in the decisive Battle of Krakow! Isn't that exciting?

I'm no stranger to military fortifications. Britain is littered with them. The thing is, without disparaging the British war effort, so many of our wartime structures were precautionary and nothing more. When it became apparent that a Nazi invasion of the UK wasn't going to happen, every inland pillbox, seagull trench and battle HQ was unofficially redesignated "Ornament." Whereas here in Poland, this place actually saw combat. That gives it a totally different vibe.

The Battle of Krakow took place in 1914. The Russian Offensive approached from the East, aiming to take Krakow and then head south into Austria. This fort played a crucial role, as Austrian-Hungarian troops sought to defend their city from the Russian invaders. It's said that some Russian troops actually made it into these tunnels armed with bayonets, and had to be shooed out by the Austrian troops. It's not too much of a stretch to assume that people died died here. 

With both Austria and Russia controlling chunks of Poland, there were Polish people in both militaries too. Often during battle, it was Pole against Pole, a sad reality of having their country divided.

Russia failed to take Krakow, and in 1918 the war ended. In the aftermath the Austrian-Hungarian Empire fell, and Poland achieved independence, ending 123 years of foreign rule.

At which point, the Polish decided to turn this old redundant fort into an ammo warehouse. 

It get's samey but I just have to snap all of it, I'm sorry. 

There's the obligatory penis doodle on this wall. It is strange how that's prevalent across the world. I guess it's human nature to enjoy drawing massive nobs. 

As we all (probably) know, Poland was taken by the Germans in 1939, and these old fortifications were used once more, but not by the Germans or the Polish. 

It was actually the Ukrainian Insurgence Army (Known as "UPA" as an abbreviation of "Ukrainska Povstanska Armiia") who made use of these tunnels during the 1940s. They are quite a controversial group. Their ultimate goal was to liberate Ukraine, which is fine. But history is messy, and people are rarely liberated without bloodshed. And that's the problem with the UPA. They were quite fond of bloodshed. 

In the 20th Century Ukraine was divided into the Eastern Ukrainian Nationalist Republic, which was annexed by the Bolsheviks, and the Western Ukrainians Republic which was annexed by the Polish after the first world war. Despite being part of Poland it was still inhabited by Ukrainians, and they grew a fierce resentment of the Polish. You'd expect the Polish government to be somewhat sympathetic of the Ukrainians, having been oppressed themselves, but no, as always nobody learned anything. 

So all the bitterness gave rise to the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists, who started committing acts of violence against the Polish authorities, with even a few assassination attempts and a predictable backlash from the Polish, who clamped down on the Ukrainian people, closing their businesses, schools and churches, and even allegedly executing some. 

One prominent leader of the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists was a man named Stepan Bandera, who was in prison at the time of the Nazi and Soviet invasions of Poland in 1939. Allegedly the Nazi invasion resulted in the prison guards abandoning their posts, and Bandera just walked out. 

(Stepan Bandera. Photo not mine, obviously)

So having grown up with a deep resentment for the Polish, Bandera fell in with the Nazis, as did his radicalised arm of the Organisation of Ukrainian Nationalists, helping to arrest and even execute Jews. Stepan Bandera actually, rather presumptuously, declared the creation of a free Ukraine, saying that they would collaborate with Hitler and Germany to create a new order in Europe. 

The Nazis said "Naaaah," and Bandera was arrested again. 

The UPA was a militia formed out of Ukrainian Nationalists loyal to Bandera, and they basically declared war on everyone. In the 1940s it was easier to find a Nun wearing a strap-on than it was to find someone that the UPA weren't fighting. They fought the Nazis, they fought the Soviets, and they fought the Polish people. They were particularly brutal with the Polish, taking over entire villages and slaughtering the occupants with agricultural tools like pitchforks and scythes, regardless of if their prisoners were male, female, elderly or children. In one village they even nailed a baby to a table. These guys were not playing. The death toll was staggering and today Poland recognises it as a genocide. 

Everyone hated the UPA back in the day. The Russians hated them. The Nazis hated them. The Polish definitely hated them. Even Ukrainians were wary of the association. Former UPA members were only granted veteran status in 2019, and to give them credit, some of them have tried to make amends for past actions. 

In 1944, the Nazis were welcoming any assistance against the advancing Soviets, so the UPA helped them out once again. Stepan Bandera was released too. 

Some of UPA moved into this base, and used it to defend Krakow from the Red Army, spilling blood on these walls for the first time in nearly 30 years. Some of these men had been children when the fort was first used, during the Battle of Krakow. 

I'm not entirely sure if Stepan Bandera himself ever set foot here. Often leaders in a conflict are quite happy to sit back and let their battle be fought for them. But Bandera definitely seems like the kind of guy who would lead by example and get his hands dirty with his men, so it's entirely possible that he has walked these tunnels. 

(Photo of the UPA. Photo not mine, obviously)

The UPA would continue to rebel against the Soviets long after the war ended, and continued to fight for Ukrainian independence. Stepan Bandera was considered a terrorist by the Soviet authorities, and while the American authorities considered him dangerous, they decided that his knowledge of Ukrainian underground movements was too valuable to let fall into the wrong hands, so they actively protected him and let him live in Germany. The KGB assassinated him in 1959. 

Officially the UPA died with him. And yet, a member of the UPA came out of hiding only in December 1991, having been awaiting orders for decades, and completely missing the declaration of Independence of Ukraine. Maybe there were others like him. 

The UPA have a mixed legacy. On one hand, I sympathise. The Ukrainians do deserve independence. No people should be owned by another group of people (So give back Cornwall, you sowsnek tusses) but it is the methods employed by the UPA that are most often called into question.  

But it sure is interesting to think that despite being relatively central to Krakow, these fortifications have never actually been used by the people of Poland, except for artists to practice drawing willies and things. 

Perhaps that's why it's abandoned. The people of this country have no sentimental attachment to the monuments of their oppressors.

The Polish aren't particularly fond of their time under someone else's rule. I recall once meeting a 90-year-old Polish woman at work, who everyone was struggling to communicate with because she didn't speak English. I suggested speaking Russian with her, since I know a little bit. Everyone looked at me like I was an idiot, saying "She's Polish, not Russian." I pointed out to these historical ignoramuses that if she was ninety and from Poland, she can probably speak Russian.

So I spoke Russian to her, and she told me, in Russian, to never speak Russian to her again. She would rather just not be spoken to or understood at all. 

These stairs are on the other side of a wall. Indicative that some modifications have been made to the fort over the years. One person has labelled the hole "Narnia," and someone else has written "Glory Hole." As long as I'm not sucked off by McAvoy in a faun costume I'll be okay.

With the war over, this old base was used for storage until the 1970s, and allegedly still had armoured doors and a load of original stuff. But then after the Soviet Union collapsed, the thieves got in, and everything was stripped. Most notably was an armoured gun mount that was cut out with burners and stolen in 2004.

The urbexers of the 1990s must have had a great time here when there was still stuff to see. I wonder if any photos have made it to the internet somewhere. 

My favourite piece of graffiti in the place is this zombie. In a pitch black tunnel I almost walked right past it. 

This staircase leads back up to the surface. 

But with so many twists and turns, my sense of direction has been positively mangled. From this door I followed a trodden down path through the woods, leading me to the next door. 

But have I been here before? Who knows at this point? The graffiti is the only thing that sets these tunnels apart. 

It's time to head back outside. 

And that's all I've got. By making my way up this bank, I was able to re-enter Krakow, a somewhat surreal, jarring slap of normality after just being immersed in some of the bloodiest chapters in Polish history. 

A few dog walkers passed this place, and I'd seen a few teenagers hanging out. I wondered how many knew about the history of this place. 

I recommend these tunnels to anyone who is in the area and wants a glimpse at the darker parts of Krakow's history. War history enthusiasts will enjoy it. It certainly took me down some rabbit holes. I had no knowledge of Ukrainian antics during the second world war, until I researched this place. In school, World War Two only seems to involve the Brits, the French, the Germans, the Russians and the Americans. But it was a world war. It involved everyone. 

And that's one thing I love about this blog. It's educational. Similarly I had no idea about what happened to the Greeks during Nazi occupation until I did urbex in Greece. 

This hobby keeps me active and educated. Gotta love it.

To mix things up a bit, I'll focus on my other blog for a bit next, before turning my attention to Poland again, showing you exactly what inspired me to travel here. 

In the meantime, if you like my blogs, try following my social media. Social media algorithms are about as reliable as the justice system. And by that I mean, it never does as much as it should for the stuff that actually matters, but try it anyway. I'm on Boomer 4chan, otherwise known as Facebook, and I'm on Instagram too for some reason. I think morally, the likes of Vero and Cara are better representations of what Social Media should be, in that you post your creative output and the people get to see the posts of the people they chose to follow, so if you're on those, find me there. I'm also on Bluesky for that vintage Twitter experience, since real Twitter is owned by a crusty old nonce.

Anyway, thanks for reading!

Tiny Café

I know I said on my last blog that my next one would be some underground military fortification. But really, I lied. I didn't want to get you too excited by what was actually next on the to-do list.

This building, once whimsical but now wank, is "Wilson's Cafe." It's sat casually rotting away, surrounded by industrial buildings whose employees once congregated here for their full English breakfasts, coffee, and daily bitch about management.  

Given that we were in the area, I insisted that my opulent entourage stop to take a look, and they still haven't forgiven me. 

Slipping in was a piece of piss. While I scrambled in through the window, my friends checked around the perimeter and found that the door was, in fact, open. Silly me. Why would anyone lock this?

I mean, as much as I love urbex, sometimes we do need to be honest with ourselves. 

This is just an abandoned room. 

It isn't an urbex spot that has flaws. It's a flaw that can be urbexed. 

The blackboard is the main thing to see here. It's a surviving remnant of a time when this place was actually cared about. 

On the surface you'd think having the names would be handy for research, but the thing is... what if they're still alive? I am more than happy to research dead people. Researching the living is crossing a moral boundary for me. 

And even dismissing that moral boundary for a moment, I don't know if Jan and Hughie are a couple, a parent and offspring duo, a pet owner and their dog, a boss and their employee (same thing as pet owner and dog, except when it's a dog there comes a time when it's considered cruel to keep it alive), so things aren't as straightforward as you might think. 

The café was popular with a lot of workers on the industrial estate. But it is in closest proximity to the paper sack factory that I wrote about last time. In fact it's built on the same land as the factory, the land where an ancient manor house once stood, where back in the Victorian era they found a pit full of civil war pistols and swords. There was some real history here. 

I have a photo of that manor, just to make everyone sad. 

(Photo not mine obviously)

They tore that house down in the 1930s, and then they built this. And for what purpose? What's it doing that the mansion couldn't also be doing, but prettier?

Given that it was built around the same time as the factory, I assume the Bowater's owned it, which makes me wonder if "Hughie" is the same Hughie whose name was on the office door in the sack factory. Hmm...

Here's the counter where Jan and Hughie served their customers.

This pillar has a few old business cards stuck to it, once on display for customers. 

This sign says that the café was open at 8am. There's also a telephone number there, but I decided to censor it. 

There's some documents here. In particular, the staff training record. 

But really, that's about it.

This place made me question my life, not just as an urbexer, but as a person. Like what am I doing? Is this who I am? It feels less like a fun urbex and more like a questionable life choice.

People hear that I explore and document abandoned places, and they say "that sounds cool," but when they see that I mean this place, it's only a matter of time before the conversation descends to "So that's the life you chose, huh?"

But.... I still kinda like it. And that makes me happy in myself. Because when you've abseiled down mineshafts, swam out to shipwrecks, lay down on morgue slabs, climbed churches naked and poked around abandoned hospitals, it's easy to turn your nose up at this sort of thing and say "that's beneath me."

And I'd rather be the kind of person that can appreciate the little things, even if they are a bit shit. 

This place still mattered to Jan and Hughie, and it was still a popular hangout for the customers back in its day. Some people do have fond memories of this place and would be sad to see it like this. 

Onto the best part of any abandoned building (especially this one), the toilet.

Still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs. 

That's it for the café. I had more fun than I thought I would. And by that, I mean, a little bit.

But what's this???

Just outside the café we can see the remnants of old rails. These are a piece of industrial history. 

These tracks once served the factories here, bringing materials in and shipping products out. And I have a photo of one of the trains!

(Photo not mine, obviously. According to the watermark it belongs to "In." Ingrid Nettle? Ian Nash? Instant Necrosis? Who knows?)  

This train has actually been along these tracks. That's pretty cool. Perhaps people were eating in this café, watching it go by back in the day. 

But maybe that's the saddest thing about this café. I finally found something of historic interest and it's just outside, with my eyes cast downwards to avoid looking at the thing I'm supposed to be talking about.

My next blog will be about an old military fort, and if its even half as good as this café then... well I'll be mad because that won't be good enough.

In the meantime, if you like my blogs then the best way to get updates is... probably to just keep checking back, because social media algorithms are about as trustworthy as a Prince Andrew alibi. But anyway, do have a Facebook page, I am somehow still clinging to relevance on Instagram, and I am on the smaller platforms like Vero, Bluesky and Cara, all basically filling the role of Instagram and Twitter before the algorithmic rot set in.

Find me there.

Thanks for reading!