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Edward Rozek: Bearing Witness

Edward Rozek: Bearing Witness

A man is not primarily a witness against something. A witness, in the sense that I am using the word, is a man whose life and faith are so completely one that when the challenge comes to step out and testify for his faith, he does so, disregarding all risks, accepting all consequences.[1] 

Voice lessons 

How do we develop the eyes to see and the ears to hear? The best teachers equip us to resist temptation and recognize deception. They enable us to develop the vision to discern truth and the voice to tell it. “Take everything with a grain of salt,” my father advised me more than once. As I went off to college in 1966, he urged me to get under the wing of Edward J. Rozek, a Polish emigré who fought first for Poland at the outset of the Second World War, then escaped his imprisoned country to serve as a reconnaissance officer under British command. Blinded in a tank explosion, he underwent several surgeries to remove shrapnel and restore his eyesight.

After the war, Edward Rozek moved to New York City with $50 in his pockets. He worked at a dairy and an auto shop to save up for admission to Harvard. He earned scholarships, continued on to a Ph.D. in Soviet studies, and published a pathbreaking study entitled Allied Wartime Diplomacy: A Pattern in Poland. A decade after his arrival in Boulder, Colorado, I began my journey – under his guiding eye – from the life of an interested yet detached observer to that of a witness. In a 1998 article I reflected on what his mentorship meant to me:


Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy’s explanation in Out of Revolution of “why teaching is a public trust” is perfectly natural to me, for I have sat under a genuine “public professor” who addressed critical issues and who “uttered his ‘All or nothing’ from his public Katheder (chair). Dr. Rozek embodies the old ideal of the university as the keeper of the nation’s conscience.”[2] 

What made Edward Rozek a great teacher also made him an inconvenience to the petty tyrants – you find them everywhere – who intend to rule or ruin. Sometimes despots style themselves “Communists,” “anarchists,” “capitalists,” or “civil libertarians.” Some become masters of deceit.

Serving on a committee to select speakers for the annual World Affairs Conference, Dr. Rozek quickly discovered that the deck was stacked against conservatives. After students petitioned for a more balanced program, he launched an alternative forum, which, unlike the Marxist-oriented World Affairs Conference, was not taxpayer-financed. By 1964, he had made himself persona non grata with the university administration. Reflecting on his career and his considerable influence in the wider world, I wrote: 

I am impressed by the men, like Sidney Hook, Edward Teller, [Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Vladimir Bukovsky,] and Nikolai Tolstoy, to campus through the W. F. Dyde Forum and his Institute for the Study of Comparative Politics and Ideologies, which is held in the summer. My first real lesson in journalistic dissimulation came the morning after a talk by Milovan Drachkovich at the W. F. Dyde Forum in 1967 when the student newspaper carried an account filled with incredible distortions. How could the writer even have been in the audience? I wrote a letter to the editor in protest. My letter was published, but in mangled form.[3] 

The hostility toward Dr. Rozek by the administration as well as the campus newspaper compelled me to choose sides. Campus – including the Hill district – in the late 1960s was an often-bewildering hodge-podge of New Age spirituality, tie-dyed hippie fashions, “Unisex” couture, the drug culture, and radical organizing on campus. It was nicknamed “Baghdad by the Flatirons” in the student-run daily newspaper. Before I became a commuter student in my junior year, I frequented the bookstores and often the movie theater. When “The Graduate” came to the theater late in 1967, long lines of students wrapped around the block, waiting to gain admission, during the remainder of the school year. During the huge rallies and anti-war marches in the late 1960s, Boulder was also tagged “Berkeley East.” Campus organizers were emboldened by success.

In December 1969, I finished my undergraduate studies, then enrolled the following month in my first graduate courses: American Political Thought under Curtis Martin, Soviet Foreign Policy under Edward Rozek, and Research Methods under Dayton McKean. Although I did not specialize in Soviet studies, I took all the courses I could from my mentor, both as an undergraduate and as a graduate student.

The campus turmoil reached a fever pitch near the end of the Spring term, early in June 1970, when four young people were killed at Kent State University after equally young National Guardsmen opened fire. The incident, designated the Kent State massacre, triggered a massive response around the country and led most professors on our campus to heed a call to cancel final exams. Buildings were surrounded by human barricades as protesters hunched down on elbows and knees to block access.

Some lessons are best learned when students are compelled to decide whether a preference rises to the level of a conviction. Life is full of forced choice questions. 

Dr. Rozek confronted us in class with the specter of man’s inhumanity to man. Who could fail to hear the force of words that rose from the depth of personal experience, that rebuked the proud halls and mighty towers that could not shroud the [life] that pulsated from this man when he stood in front of his students? [His] was a dignified voice, a cultivated voice. It took much effort for me to hear him, because it was also to my ears a foreign voice. In time and with effort, I learned to attune my ears to the cadences of his speech.

And what a remarkable voice it is! He always spoke with quiet authority, with conviction, about the blight of totalitarian oppression and, closer to home, the petty tyrannies that waylay us. If he was, on the one hand, the lightning rod of conservatism on campus, he was also, first and foremost, my teacher: our teacher. Few men have commanded such respect from their students. We crossed picket lines in 1970 to take our final exams. We voted with our feet (one of his favorite phrases in another context). Our contract with him did not contain an escape clause.[4] 

Life may be full of forced-choice questions, but Dr. Rozek never gave so-called objective tests. We had essay tests in class, which forced us to master the art of thinking through what we had read. We also learned the art of writing. I learned to be succinct. I can say in retrospect that, through critical challenges posed by my teachers over many years, I had found my own voice by the time I began graduate studies. I moved back to Oregon – my home state – late in 1975 and returned to the classroom: first to teacher’s college, then to adjunct teaching at several colleges, then to a doctoral program at the University of Oregon in 1977.

The all-out assault on Edward Rozek was launched in 1980 following his campaign for a position on the Board of Regents, triggering a smear campaign which led to his defeat in the primary election. Although a Board of Regents investigation exonerated him of any wrongdoing concerning the alleged misuse of funds to bring speakers to campus, a special prosecutor was appointed by a Boulder County judge in November.

The following August, while he was out of town, both his home and his office were raided by university police officers. Despite a failure to find supportive evidence, multiple felony counts were filed against him. Dr. Rozek’s defense attorney, knowing the reputation of the special prosecutor, warned him that he might be arrested in class, in front of his students. As Dr. Rozek later recalled: 

When my attorney reconfirmed that such a thing was possible and that there was nothing he could do to protect me, my disbelief turned to horror and then to a sense of utter helplessness. Upon reflection, I reconciled myself to such a prospect and accepted it stoically. If such a ghastly thing happened, it would be a reflection not on me but on our legal system which allow a few unscrupulous ‘lawmen’ to terrorize their victims through abuse of police power.[5] 

With members of the press to witness, Dr. Rozek was arrested on April 15, 1983 and booked on 22 felony counts.[6] The press was conspicuously absent when he was exonerated months later.

I can say in retrospect that, through critical challenges posed by my teachers over many years, I found my own voice by the time I began graduate studies. One of the best tributes to Edward Rozek was written during that period. The philosopher Sidney Hook dedicated his book Academic Freedom and Academic Anarchy to him as follows: 


Edward J. Rozek—


Embattled fighter for free men, free society,

And the free university against fascism,

Communism, and totalitarian liberalism[7] 

How ironic that Hook, a student of John Dewey, the original philosopher of American liberalism, should detect something illiberal at the heart of American liberalism. Francis Lieber recognized the same danger a century earlier. The question under consideration here is whether liberalism as a governing philosophy has the spiritual reserves to revitalize, defend, and preserve its institutional expressions. Somewhere along the way both American liberalism and the political science profession took a wrong turn. 


Protracted Conflict is the name of one the books Dr. Rozek had me read when I started graduate studies in early 1970. The sixth chapter makes a shocking admission concerning Cold War politics which is difficult to credit but which, upon further consideration, may help explain so much of postwar history – including the loss of civil liberty in academia – within a larger strategic context. 

Since 1945, the Communists have marked out the non-Communist territory as the “war zone” and have succeeded in confining the Cold War to this part of the world. World opinion unconsciously accepted the Communist rule of international conduct: under its dispensation the West must condone Communist forays into the non-Communist “war zone” and abstain from launching counterthrusts into the Communist “peace zone.” The Communists, in short, have been allowed to inscribe the territorial limits of the protracted conflict.[8] 

To understand how the Communists could be so confident requires admitting a that something had changed in the West. Nearly a century earlier, the European powers thwarted Russian imperial ambitions and propped up the declining Ottoman Empire via the Crimean War. A decade after Crimea, Louis Napoleon and Otto von Bismarck maneuvered to put postrevolutionary France and a rising new German Empire on a collision course. Both were early experiments in what James Burnham later called “the managerial revolution.” The Paris Commune was one short-lived consequence of Napoleon’s defeat in the Franco-Prussian War. The birth of a new German Empire was signed and sealed in the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles Palace in 1871. Another decade later, the Berlin Conference represented Bismarck’s attempt to redirect imperial ambitions away from Europe and toward Africa. The younger Kaiser Wilhelm II sacked Bismarck but lacked Bismarck’s finesse. In the absence of strong leadership, Europe soon began its descent toward war. The phrase fin de siècle captures the mood of the time: a lively swirl of artistic innovation, political intrigue, and general optimism.

Yet by the late nineteenth century cultural and civilizational structures once based on civil liberty and self-government began to be dismantled in favor of an ever more interventionist administrative state which generated impatience with the pace of reform. The historian Perry Miller noted: “Both American and England absorbed during the nineteenth century two separate ‘German invasions.’ The first came in the form of literature.” It gave rise to Transcendentalism in American literature and the public education movement. “The second invasion came armed with a dialectic, a severe discipline, a rationale of history, and a technique of disputation powerful enough to shatter all opposition.” German idealism filled niches in the American mind once inhabited by Scottish realism. Although supportive of Christian morality, Idealism proved to be a transitional step to another form of process philosophy which drew on evolutionary biology and then genetics.

America’s first political science professor, Francis Lieber, criticized the philosophical implications of both Hegel and Darwin. Lieber was a major cultural figure who had run the first American gymnastics school in Boston, started the first swimming school, launched the Encyclopaedia Americana in Philadelphia, met and corresponded with Alexis de Tocqueville, taught in South Carolina and New York, and devised the code of military conduct during the American Civil War which influenced the later Hague and Geneva Conventions.

Following Lieber’s death, prominent German-educated political scientists and their students introduced and cultivated a taste for the German administrative efficiency. The legal scholar Philip Hamburger has observed: “The adoption of European administrative ideas is a direct continuation of the absolutism that persisted in administrative form on the Continent.” Given the sheer size and diversity of the country at the time, the adoption of such ideas as civil service systems and regulatory agencies gradually led to “a transfer of legislative power to the knowledge class.” The Wisconsin Idea and the Oregon System were also introduced around the turn of the twentieth century to bring a greater measure of direct democracy at the state and local level. Minnesota, Wisconsin, North Dakota, Oregon, and California became Progressive strongholds. Along with Populism, Progressivism had the effect of weakening traditional political structures and redirecting the reform impulse to the national level.

Woodrow Wilson and his rival Henry Cabot Lodge were both charter members of this knowledge class. As a political scientist and college president, Hamburger noted, “Wilson welcomed administrative governance. The people could still have their republic, but much legislative power would be shifted out of an elected body and into the hands of the right sort of people.”[9]

As President, Woodrow Wilson once notoriously said to a British envoy that “I am going to teach the South American republics to elect good men.”[10] Similarly, the Great War for him was a “war for righteousness.” His Fourteen Points were issued in part due to the Bolshevik takeover of Russia, Lenin’s Peace Deal, and Trotsky’s publication of secret deals the Allies had made with the Tsar during the war. Wilson’s declaration was framed idealistically but had a devastating effect in practice.

Wilson also applied the same humanitarian sentiment to his own people, an attitude that carried over to the rising knowledge class he inspired: 

This class includes all who are more attached to the authority of knowledge than the authority of local political communities. Which is not to say that they have been particularly knowledgeable but that their sense of affinity with cosmopolitan knowledge, rather than their local connectedness, has been the foundation of their influence and identity. And in appreciating the authority they have attributed to their knowledge, and distrusting the tumultuous politics of a diverse people, they have gradually moved legislative power out of Congress and into administrative agencies – to be exercised, in more genteel ways, by persons like . . . themselves.[11] 

The Great War had a major demoralizing effect on all parties. It was also a harrowing whirlpool of treachery and broken promises. Governing cabinets, like revolutionary movements, have been unapologetic for their sudden shifts of policy. A guilty conscience can certainly weaken morale. So might fear of another and even more devastating world war. Postwar Europe was ripe for Revolution.

Vladmir Lenin knew the importance of capturing the “commanding heights” of a political/cultural system, a lesson that seems to be lost on those “conservatives” who simply react to every slow curve-ball that the Left lets drift lazily near the plate. It means “capturing the robes” of authority, as Gary North put it, who often remarked: “You can’t beat something with nothing.”[12] Any strategy worth its salt requires attention to detail and an eye for “the long game.” Divide and rule. Sexual politics and family breakdown became the vehicle. The costs to society of what Rudi Dutschke called “the long march through the institutions” are shrugged off as collateral damages, whether to families, communities, or personal reputations. It is a real war with real casualties

The interwar period is a blind spot to most Americans. It was a revolutionary period of far greater magnitude than the Revolutions of 1848, liberal revolutions which were thwarted but smoldered in the background. The German and British welfare states were meant to inoculate against outright socialism. But as a result, far from being immunized, the West eventually succumbed to revolutions which were never identified as such. America’s Progressivism was intertwined with Fabian socialism, which gave rise to the Intercollegiate Socialist Society in 1905, the League for Industrial Democracy, Minnesota’s Farmer-Labor Party, and, later, Students for a Democratic Society. The Fabian Society in Britain gave birth to the Labour Party.

Four empires were dismantled in whole or part after the Great War. The remaining colonial empires began to unravel – at the insistence of both Roosevelt and Stalin – as a result of the Second World War. It was part of the price for America’s assistance in keeping Europe out of German hands and, later, the Russian orbit.

One consequence of the Second World War was to effectively leave the Soviet Union in control of the commanding heights. As for the knowledge class – from Roosevelt’s “brains trust” to Kennedy’s “best and brightest” – it is important to recognize the effect of years of wartime propaganda in favor of the wartime alliance of the West with the Soviet Union, especially following the German invasion of Russia in June 1941. The standard view of the “McCarthy era” [13] in polite society began to unravel only after Allen Weinstein reached his conclusion in Perjury: The Hiss-Chambers Case (1978)[14] – contrary to his expectation – that Alger Hiss had lied about his role as a Soviet agent. Hiss, the Roosevelt adviser who presided over the initial meeting of the United Nations in April 1945, was convicted of perjury in January 1950. By contrast, the whistle-blower, Whittaker Chambers, saw his career destroyed. His account of events, including “A Letter to My Children” at the opening of the book, and his effort to recover his tarnished reputation is detailed in his book Witness (1952). Near the conclusion of his account, Chambers wrote:


No feature of the Hiss Case is more obvious, or more troubling as history, than the jagged fissure, which it did not so much open as reveal, between the plain men and women of the nation, and those who affected to act, think and speak for them. It was, not invariably, but in general, the “best people” who were for Alger Hiss and who were prepared to go to almost any length to protect and defend him. It was the enlightened and the powerful, the clamorous proponents of the open mind and the common man, who snapped their minds shut in a pro-Hiss psychosis, of a kind which, in an individual patient, means the simple failure of the ability to distinguish between reality and unreality, and, in a nation, is a Warning of the end.

It was the great body of the nation, which, not invariably, but in general, kept open its mind in the Hiss Case, waiting for the returns to come in. It was they who suspected what forces disastrous to the nation were at work in the Hiss Case, and had suspected that they were at work long before there was a Hiss Case, while most of the forces of enlightenment were poohpoohing the Communist danger and calling every allusion to it a witch hunt. It was they who, when the battle was over, first caught its real meaning.[15]  

Ideas have consequences 

In “How Civilizations Fall,” Kenneth Minogue showed how a strategy of subversion – in this instance by radical feminism – can leave the defenders defenseless against what Robert Kennedy called an “enemy within.” 

Marx provided the model [a “proletarian” revolution] for all subsequent movements aiming to take power. His “make your own tribe” kit was found useful by nationalists, anarchists, and many brands of socialist. . . . In socially mobile European states, the workers mostly found better things to do with their time than waste it on revolutionary committees and the baby talk of political demonstrations. Something new was needed.

It was provided by such socialists as Mussolini and Lenin who adopted the principle of the Praetorian Guard: a tightly knit vanguard party, which could use the masses as ventriloquial dummies and seek power on its own terms. This development was part of a wider tendency towards the emergence of oligarchies ruling through democratic slogans.[16] 

Likewise, cries for “reparations,” objections to “cultural appropriation,” and demands for “open borders” are simply the latest iterations of a successful formula. These tactics are similarly designed to discredit and discourage the guardians of the existing order, often by threatening to turn family members and neighbors against them.

In this respect, revolutionaries are assisted by larger forces which already have had a long-term disruptive effect. Rapid change, like a forced-march double-time, keeps everything and everyone off balance. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) may be more characteristic of modern times than we may realize.

Two forces of modernity which have been intertwined virtually from the start are, first, the secularization and mechanization of the world picture through philosophical changes which preceded and accompanied the scientific revolution, and, second, the transformation of traditional social structures, including property laws, which preceded and accompanied the Industrial Revolution. Pitirim Sorokin regarded the rise of modernity as a shift from an ideational to a sensate era – that is, from a spiritual to a materialistic/hedonistic orientation.

Joseph Schumpeter described the “process of industrial mutation” which revolutionizes the structure of the economy from within as “a gale of creative destruction.” From this standpoint, old industries are expendable and, by implication, so is the workforce that sustains them. When the American economy began to “de-industrialize” following the Second World War, the social, economic, and strategic costs were incalculable.

Dr. Rozek once brought Arnold Toynbee to campus as a guest speaker. Toynbee was well-known for his challenge and response theory of civilization, a phrase which certainly applied to Dr. Rozek’s work as a scholar and as a lecturer. As a witness, Edward Rozek gave voice to those who could no longer do so. In this regard, he resembles two other émigré scholars worth heeding today: Francis Lieber and Erik von Kuehnelt-Leddihn. Lieber remained in his adopted country except for one visit back to Germany at the time of the 1848 revolutions. Kuehnelt-Leddihn lived as an exile in America for a decade, returned to Austria in 1947, but visited most every year on lecture tours, which sometimes included Japan and Chile.

Near the conclusion of my original article on Edward Rozek, I quoted a passage from Out of Revolution (1938) by another émigré scholar, Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy. It seems to be a fitting way to conclude with another of his observations here: 

We speak our mind. Any thought about the life and death of our own group compels us to convey it to others. We cannot keep the thought to ourselves forever, however slow we may be to talk to our neighbors about it. . . . Death cannot be fought in society except through engaging younger men to join the battle-front. Social disintegration compels older men to speak to younger men. Education is not a luxury for the sake of the younger individual; is it not very often their ruin? However, society needs allies in its fight against decline. The true form of social thought is teaching.[17] 

Appendix: the testimony of Ksawery Pruszynski 

A leading Polish journalist, Ksawery Pruszynski, served in a tank battalion under the command of Edward Rozek. After the war, Pruszynski chose to return to Poland and served as a diplomat until he was mysteriously killed in a car explosion in 1950. The following is drawn from an account of the reasons he gave for returning to occupied Poland after the war. 

I am not a communist. I love freedom and democracy. I have done everything possible to secure it for post-war Poland. I fought against the undemocratic regime in pre-war Poland. From my experiences in Russia I know what is awaiting Poland now. Like every other Pole I trusted England and America. . . . I trusted every word which came from the lips of Churchill and Roosevelt. I wanted to believe in every slogan which they advanced. It soothed my tormented soul. . . . But I was deeply shocked and disillusioned by what they did, not only to Poland but to other small nations, and to the principles of justice and international morality. Their Periclean gift, which everyone admires, helped them to camouflage their hypocrisy and to betray those who trusted them. They have defeated Hitler and Mussolini, but Stalin has snatched the victory from their hands. They wanted to save their men from further bloodshed, but the children of those men will have to give their lives to correct these mistakes or will have to live in constant fear if they do not want to accept the yoke of Bolshevik rule over them.

. . .

Apparently the Anglo-Americans have two moralities—one for home consumption and the other for export. Democracy can survive only if moral principles are fused with political performances. Neither Teheran nor Yalta indicate that they were. If harm is done to an individual in any moderately civilized society one can appeal to the police or to a court and, relatively speaking, justice will be done. But when a nation is condemned to slavery by the decision of a few individuals, where can you look for justice?

If Poland is to survive, Poles have to learn a lesson from this war, which was so costly to them. Neither England nor America are interested in Poland—they never were and never will be—because of Poland’s geographical position. Those hypocritical sentiments expressed by Churchill and Roosevelt have to be analyzed in terms of their ulterior motives. Churchill repeated so many times that Britain went to war because Polish independence was endangered. But I want to ask how many shorts were fired by British soldiers in September 1939, when the Polish nation was dying? None. Britain went to war because she knew that Hitler was aiming at her, and she needed time before the Nazi armies would turn against her. Poles can say that over 1,800 Polish pilots lost their lives in the Battle of Britain; that Polish sailors died in defense of the Island. You can find graves of Polish men all over Europe and North Africa. But what is the result of their supreme sacrifice? Over 40,000 soldiers were killed and 20,000 wounded on the Western Front, and 6,000,000 Poles have perished in Poland,. And what did Poland gain by it? Nothing. She is sentenced to a slow death under another totalitarian power.[18] 

Photo sources:




[1]Whittaker Chambers, Witness (New York: Random House, 1952), 5.

[2]Steven Alan Samson, “Edward Rozek: A Teacher’s Gift,” About Such Things (Tenth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia), Spring 1998, p. 15; see Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy, Out of Revolution: Autobiography of Western Man (New York: William Morrow, 1938), 397-99.;

republished as “Edward Rozek: A Student’s Tribute,” Humanitas, 15:2 (2002): 112.

[3]Ibid. 16.

[4]Ibid. 15.

[5]Ann Donnelly, “The Edward Rozek case: Profile in Academic Courage,” Academic License: The War on Academic Freedom, ed. Les Csorba, III (Evanston, IL: UCA Books, 1988), 275

[6]“The plot against Rozek, as reportedly explained later by one of [the prosecutor’s] assistants, was designed to drive the professor to take his own life.” Ibid., 278.

[7]Sidney Hook, Academic Freedom and Academic Anarchy. New York: Delta, 1971.

[8]Robert Strausz-Hupé, William R. Kintner, James E. Dougherty, and Alvin J. Cottrell. Protracted Conflict (New York: Harper Colophon,1963), 85-86.

[9]Philip Hamburger, The Administrative Threat (New York: Encounter Books, 2007) 55.

[10]Walter A. McDougall, Promised Land, Crusader State (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1997), 131.

[11]Ibid. 52. As Russell Kirk acidly put it later: “The humanitarian believes in brotherhood: that is, ‘Be my brother,’ he says, ‘or I’ll kill you.’ He aspires to assimilate others to his mode and substance.” Russell Kirk, The Wise Men Know What Wicked Things Are Written on the Sky (Washington, DC: Regnery Gateway, 1987) 28-29.

[12] The “robes” here are academic, ministerial, and judicial.

[13]Two dissenting accounts which generated the usual critical wrath are by two journalists: M. Stanton Evans, Blacklisted by History: The Untold Story of Senator Joe McCarthy and His Fight Against America’s Enemies {New York: Three Rivers Press, 2007); and Diana West, American Betrayal: The Secret Assault on Our Nation’s Character (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2013). Unfortunately, two other books which offered insight into Soviet operations were effectively “consigned to the dustbin of history” by a wall of silence in the American media: Ion Mihai Pacepa and Ronald J. Rychlak, Disinformation: Former Spy Chief Reveals Secret Strategies for Undermining Freedom, Attacking Religion, and Promoting Terrorism (Washington, DC: WND Books, 2013); and Vladimir Bukovsky, Judgment in Moscow: Soviet Crimes and Western Complicity, trans. Alyona Kojevnikov (Ninth of November Press, 2019 [1996]).

[14]Allen Weinstein, The Hiss-Chambers Case (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1978).

[15]Chambers. 793-94.


[17]Eugen Rosenstock-Huessy, Speech and Reality (Norwich, VT: Argo Books, 1970), 22.

[18]Edward J. Rozek, Allied Wartime Diplomacy: A Pattern in Poland (New York: John Wiley, 1958), 412-14.



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