Jozef Pronicki (Treblinka Stationmaster)

From 1941 to early 1943, Józef Pronicki was the stationmaster of the Treblinka train station. Most of what is known about him comes from Franciszek Ząbecki's memoirs Wspomnienia dawne i nowe ("Memories, Old and New").

In May 1941, Zabecki began working as a train dispatcher after he had already been released from captivity and joined the Polish resistance. Soon after, Jozef Pronicki became stationmaster of Treblinka.

Pronicki and Zabecki were at the station on June 21, 1941, and noticed the German army moving east.

Pronicki was a member of the underground, too, although he didn't admit it to Zabecki. But Pronicki allowed underground newspapers to be ready by employees he knew from before the war. Zabecki even suspects him of distributing the newspapers, before Pronicki decides to give newspapers directly to Zabecki.

Willi Klinzmann, a German who was stationed at Treblinka to do the death camp stuff, disliked Pronicki.

The stationmaster's wife, Jadwiga Pronicka, wanted to protect a Jewish woman from being beaten when Klinzmann caught her on the road near the station. The furious Klinzmann wanted to lock both women in the wagon, one as a Jew, 1the other for helping Jews. The intercession of Emmerich and the terrified Pronicki freed Pronicka from the fate that befell the Jewish woman. A few days later, when Pronicka and her husband passed a transport of Jews and handed them bread, Klinzmann jumped up and brutally pushed her away, warning Pronicki that if this happened again, he would take his wife to the wagon and hand her over to the transport commander. Although he dismissed Pronicka, he still shot her as she left.

The guard at the gate refused to let the German railway workers from Sokołów Podlaski in and immediately turned the trolley around. Blechschmidt left a letter and instructed Pronicki to go to the camp alone to collect the money, and he and Teufel departed for Sokołów Podlaski. Pronicki was terrified, as he didn't want to step into the dragon's jaws for fear of facing the consequences. Since he had no other choice, and Sokołów Podlaski often asked what the situation was, Pronicki boarded a steam locomotive that was pushing two coal wagons filled with oil for burning corpses and some of the wagons loaded with people from the transport that had arrived at the station. He disembarked at the camp's main ramp. He noticed the strange behavior of the Germans and Ukrainians on the ramp; a Ukrainian wanted to include him in the group of Jews marching to their deaths. After showing the letter to the commandant and explaining that he was a railwayman and was wearing an Ostbahn uniform, the Ukrainian, after some thought, pointed to the barracks behind the fence where the commandant was stationed. Walking in the indicated direction, Pronicki saw piles of naked corpses, and elsewhere mountains of clothing and various garments, even children's shoes from the murdered. Identifying himself with the letter to the camp commandant, he entered the proper building. On the door of the room was an inscription in German: "Komendant Stangl, Sturmbannführer." In the first room of the barracks, a blond German, completely drunk, was sitting at a desk. He glanced—without looking—at the address of the letter and pointed to the next room. In that room was a short SS man. It was Stangl. A strong odor wafted through both rooms. The rooms were carpeted and, it seemed, had been sprayed with this liquid. The scent was intended to neutralize the stench of burning corpses permeating the room. Pronicki handed the letter to the commandant. Stangl, upon opening the letter, began to laugh uncontrollably. "I was terribly frightened," Pronicki recalled in a conversation with me, "because it occurred to me that the letter might have directed me to a camp for liquidation, and I, foolishly, had delivered it myself. I admit I didn't read the letter; perhaps it contained only a categorical demand for payment, citing the relevant provisions. Those few minutes felt like an eternity to me. Finally, I wanted to leave this perfumed hell as quickly as possible and distance myself from the laughing devil. So I asked, 'Will there be any answer?' This made him laugh even harder, so, pounding his fist on the table, he issued a shrill reply: 'Keine Antwort. Keine Antwort' ('No answer') — and ordered me to leave immediately, which I did eagerly."

Pronicki was in charge of distributing kerosene to the railway workers. The Germans took advantage of this to trade kerosene for alcohol. Because they were always drunk, like 100% of the Germans in Poland.

In the memoirs, Zabecki writes that, in May 1943, Pronicki left Treblinka for Warsaw. Jozef Kuzminski took over. However, in his 1944 Soviet interrogation, he said that "Until February 1943, the stationmaster was Józef Pronicki, who was transferred to Warsaw. From February 1943 to August 1944, the stationmaster was Józef Kuzminski. He currently works at the Siedlce railway station." In his testimony in 1945, Józef Kuźmiński said that he took over in January 1943.

Sources

Kuźmiński, Józef. “Józef Kuźmiński, Testimony from Court/Criminal Proceedings from 16.10.1945.” Interview by Zdzisław Łukaszkiewicz. October 16, 1945. Institute of National Remembrance, GK 196/69. Archive of the Pilecki Institute, Chronicles of Terror. https://chroniclesofterror.pl/dlibra/show-content?id=280.

Ząbecki, Franciszek. Wspomnienia dawne i nowe. PAX, 1977.