The Battle of Warsaw, 1920. The Communist Bolsheviks Routed

The crushing defeat of the Red Army in Poland did more than just carve out Poland’s post-World War I borders and halt the crimson tide of communism in its tracks; it also unfurled a bloody canvas of tactics that appears to have captivated the minds of German military planners. Those same brutal, fast-moving maneuvers would be perfected and unleashed with devastating precision across Europe in the fires of World War II.

Warsaw, Poland. 16-25 August, 1920.
Polish Forces: 370,000 soldiers and conscripts.
Communist Russian Forces: 200,000 Soldiers and Cavalry.

Additional Reading and Research:

• Szymczak, Robert. "Bolshevik Wave Breaks at Warsaw," Military History 11, 1995.
• Fiddick, Thomas. Russia's Retreat from Poland. 
• Dupuy, Ernest. Encyclopedia of Military History.
• Jedrzejewicz, Waclaw. Pilsudski: A Life for Poland.

Transcript

Hey, thanks for joining me on this episode of History's Greatest Battles. As you know, I'm a fan of history -- an ardent fan of history -- but I'm not a credentialed military historian. And so, I appreciate when I request for corrections to my mispronunciations,  I appreciate you sending those in to me. I especially have appreciated lately book recommendations from listeners who know that there are certain battles I will undoubtedly cover.

 Without further ado, my friends, let's experience The Battle of Warsaw. 

Welcome to History's Greatest Battles; season 01, episode 22: The Battle of Warsaw -- August, 1920.

Polish Forces: 370,000 minimally trained soldiers.
Soviet Russian Forces: 200,000 soldiers.

The crushing defeat of the Red Army in Poland did more than just carve out Poland’s post-World War I borders and halt the crimson tide of communism in its tracks; it also unfurled a bloody canvas of tactics that appears to have captivated the minds of German military planners. Those same brutal, fast-moving maneuvers would be perfected and unleashed with devastating precision across Europe in the fires of World War II.

Throughout its rich past, Poland has been both a battleground and a beacon of sovereignty, perpetually caught in the jaws of ravenous neighbors. Time and again, its soil has trembled under the boots of invading armies—some seeking to dominate the resilient Poles, others simply passing through on their relentless march to face yet another adversary. Like the ancient crossroads of Palestine or the embattled territories of Alsace-Lorraine, Poland has suffered the fate of lands cursed by geography. Situated at the heart of Europe's rivalries, it has endured more than its share of bloodshed, becoming a perennial battleground in the great theater of war.

In the closing years of the eighteenth century, Poland was carved up like a hunted stag, partitioned thrice—in 1772, 1793, and 1795—by the insatiable empires of Russia, Prussia, and Austria-Hungary. Despite oppressive measures from their occupiers, aimed at extinguishing the Polish spirit, the fires of national pride burned ever brighter. With the aftermath of World War I came a rare alignment of stars, signaling the time was ripe for the Poles to reclaim their identity and sovereignty. For nearly four grueling years, Poland had been a battlefield for the titanic clash between Germany and Russia. However, Russia's exit from the conflict following the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk in March 1918, and Germany’s subsequent collapse in November, cracked open a door for Poland. Here was a chance not only to resurrect a nation but to push its borders further and perhaps exact a measure of retribution for over a century of relentless subjugation.

The man fated to forge the rebirth of Poland was Józef Piłsudski, a figure molded by the fires of resistance. Scarred by the injustices of Czarist oppression in his youth, Piłsudski was a man driven by a smoldering love for his homeland and an equally fierce loathing of Russia. As the titans of the Western world—Woodrow Wilson, David Lloyd George, Georges Clemenceau, and Vittorio Orlando—gathered in Versailles to dictate the terms of peace, Piłsudski chose action over diplomacy. He envisioned a bold return to Poland’s 1772 borders and the revival of a grand federation under Polish dominance, rekindling a union that had once brought together Ukraine, Belorussia, and Lithuania.

While the peoples of these regions harbored no affection for Russian rule, they had scant desire to exchange one master for another. Piłsudski, undeterred, saw the chaos of Russia’s civil war—pitting the Red Bolsheviks against the White counter-revolutionaries—as the perfect moment to strike and seize territory. In November 1918, Piłsudski moved with decisive force, dispatching Polish troops into Galicia, the western reaches of Ukraine. By February 1919, his ambitions stretched northward as his armies advanced into Lithuania. By April, Piłsudski’s forces had seized the strategically vital city of Wilno (Vilna) from the grip of occupying Communist forces, securing a key foothold in the region.

Although historically a Polish city, Wilno had recently been designated the capital of an independent Lithuania. Undeterred, by October, Polish forces had established dominance over much of Belorussia and Galicia, expanding their influence with unyielding resolve. In December 1919, the Allies declared that Poland should recognize the Curzon Line as its eastern boundary. Acceptance of this line would mean withdrawing Polish troops from Lithuania, Belorussia, and Ukraine—a stipulation Piłsudski adamantly rejected, refusing to abandon the territories his forces had so recently claimed.

As 1920 dawned, the Soviet Red Army began to crush the last vestiges of the White resistance, prompting Soviet leader Vladimir Lenin to shift his gaze westward toward Poland. He commanded his military chief, Leon Trotsky, to ready the Red Army for a campaign to reclaim the lands lost to the Poles over the previous year. Meanwhile, Piłsudski forged a pragmatic alliance with Ukrainian General Semyon Petlyura, who agreed to cede Galicia to Poland in exchange for Piłsudski’s support in establishing a Ukrainian government in Kiev. Following the expulsion of Communist forces from the strategic Latvian stronghold of Dvinsk by Polish troops on January 3, 1920, Lenin extended an olive branch, proposing negotiations. However, both sides merely used the talks as a diplomatic façade, neither genuinely seeking compromise.

On April 25, Piłsudski unleashed a powerful offensive aimed at Kiev, capturing the city by May 7, an achievement that sent waves of jubilation through Poland. Hailed as a national hero throughout Poland, Piłsudski basked in the glory of his triumph, but the tides of war would soon shift, threatening to unravel his hard-won gains. In a series of swift cavalry raids, Trotsky’s Red forces slashed through Polish lines of communication, compelling Piłsudski to order a retreat from Kiev. Under the steely leadership of Mikhail Tukhachevsky, a formidable force of 160,000 Red Army soldiers relentlessly pursued the Poles out of Ukraine, driving them back beyond their own borders and stripping Piłsudski of all his territorial gains.

As the Soviet juggernaut pressed forward with alarming speed and the Polish defenses appeared on the brink of collapse, Lenin resolved to continue his relentless push westward. Defying the cautious counsel of his subordinates, Lenin issued a bold directive in July 1920: Warsaw must be taken, a decisive step toward launching a future offensive into Germany. Trotsky cautioned that capturing Warsaw could dangerously overextend Soviet supply lines, but Lenin's revolutionary zeal overruled such pragmatic concerns, propelling the Soviet advance onward. With Poland teetering on the brink of annihilation, the Western powers stepped in. They promised British and French military supplies, provided Piłsudski agreed to the imposition of new borders with Czechoslovakia, Germany, and Lithuania.

Facing no alternative, Piłsudski acquiesced, and on July 10, 1920, the Polish government signed the Protocol of Spa. Soon after, vital supplies and seasoned military advisors began flowing into Poland. As the Polish government mobilized every able-bodied man it could muster, Tukhachevsky's formidable forces drew ominously close to the gates of Warsaw. Tukhachevsky advanced along a broad front, spreading Polish defenses thin and sowing confusion. Piłsudski, convinced that only a bold counteroffensive could turn the tide, found himself uncertain of where to strike first. Heeding the counsel of his French advisors, Piłsudski made a strategic gamble, pulling troops from the southern sector and redeploying them, even though this meant weakening his stance against the elite First Red Cavalry Army.

This calculated redeployment, combined with an aggressive conscription campaign, granted Piłsudski a numerical edge in the critical areas surrounding Warsaw. Tukhachevsky opted to keep his main force stationed northeast of Warsaw, while dispatching his Sixteenth Army in a sweeping maneuver north of the city toward the Vistula River, aiming to launch an assault on Warsaw from the northwest. With the Fourth Red Army already entrenched at Ciechanów, strategically positioned between Warsaw and East Prussia, the Sixteenth Army's right flank would be shielded during its advance, and it could count on reinforcements once the pivot toward Warsaw was underway.

Unbeknownst to Tukhachevsky, the Poles had swelled their ranks to a formidable 370,000 men, albeit many hastily trained and poorly equipped. All Tukhachevsky had witnessed were the Polish forces in retreat, leading him to believe that the fall of Warsaw was imminent. On August 13, Tukhachevsky ordered the Sixteenth Army to advance, leaving only 8,000 men to safeguard its vulnerable left flank, a risky move that would soon prove fateful. The Red Army swiftly seized their initial objective, the city of Radzymin, but a fierce Polish counterattack reclaimed it. Simultaneously, the Polish Fifth Army launched a surprise assault on the Soviet Fourth Army at Ciechanów, pushing it back in disarray.

General Władysław Sikorski, commanding the Polish Fifth Army, pressed the advantage with a relentless onslaught, deploying tanks, cavalry, armored cars, and motorized infantry to hammer the retreating Soviet forces. Sikorski's bold advance risked overstretching his lines, but internal discord among Soviet commanders spared him. A Soviet cavalry unit, capable of striking Sikorski’s rear and severing his supply lines, hesitated and ultimately withdrew into East Prussia, where German authorities promptly interned them. While Sikorski's forces drove the shattered remnants of the Red Fourth Army back along the northern flank of the Sixteenth, Piłsudski launched a coordinated strike from the south, targeting Tukhachevsky’s vital lines of communication.

With the Sixteenth Army bogged down at Radzymin, the combined Polish offensives on both flanks threatened to trap Tukhachevsky's forces in a deadly encirclement. On August 18, grasping the peril of his situation, Tukhachevsky commanded a retreat of the Sixteenth Army, but the withdrawal quickly degenerated into a chaotic rout. Soldiers fled in a desperate bid to escape the tightening noose; those too slow were overwhelmed by the vastly superior numbers of Polish troops. The entirety of the Fourth Army was forced to surrender, while Tukhachevsky's beleaguered Sixteenth Army fared scarcely better, facing total collapse.

In their hasty retreat, the Soviets left behind a staggering arsenal: over 200 cannons, 1,000 machine guns, 10,000 vehicles, and 66,000 prisoners. The human toll was grim, with nearly 100,000 dead or wounded. Polish losses, while significant, were considerably lower, with around 50,000 casualties. The simmering animosity and mutual distrust among the Communist generals surfaced yet again in the aftermath of the decisive battle outside Warsaw. General Semyon Budyonny’s formidable First Red Cavalry Army had remained inexplicably passive during the entire engagement, secure in its position to the southeast at Lvov.

With Tukhachevsky’s forces shattered, Piłsudski redirected his troops southward to confront Budyonny. On August 31, the ensuing clash erupted into a colossal cavalry battle, a spectacle of warfare unlikely to be seen again in modern history. Budyonny’s troops were soundly defeated, nearly annihilated in the ferocious combat. Piłsudski, unwilling to let his momentum falter, pursued the fleeing Tukhachevsky, obliterating the Red Third Army on September 26 at the Nieman River in Belorussia. Piłsudski’s relentless pursuit continued, striking Tukhachevsky’s forces once more at the Scara River just days later, delivering another devastating blow.

In the aftermath, the Soviets suffered additional losses: 50,000 prisoners and 160 artillery pieces fell into Polish hands. An armistice was declared on October 12, and the subsequent Treaty of Riga, signed on March 21, 1921, awarded Poland much of the territory Piłsudski had envisioned in his grand design. Lands from Lithuania, Ukraine, and Belorussia were ceded to Poland, placing approximately 12 million people of various nationalities under Polish rule. This treaty, along with territorial gains from the Treaty of Versailles in mid-1919, significantly expanded Poland’s borders. It came at the expense of its eastern neighbors and Germany, which was forced to relinquish a corridor of land between its main territory and East Prussia, including the strategic port city of Danzig (Gdańsk).

The Battle of Warsaw heralded the birth of an independent Polish state for the first time in 150 years. Tragically, this newfound independence would be short-lived. In 1939, the Nazi war machine blitzed through Poland, crushing its defenses in little more than a month, and subjecting the nation once again to foreign domination. After the fall of Nazi Germany in 1945, the Soviet Union stepped in to exert its own brand of control, maintaining a grip over Poland, whether directly or indirectly, until the late 1980s. Crucially, Tukhachevsky’s defeat in August 1920 stemmed the advance of communism into Europe, delaying its resurgence for another 25 years.

Had Lenin succeeded in installing a Communist regime in Poland, the repercussions might have swiftly echoed throughout Germany. In the chaotic aftermath of World War I, Germany was a tinderbox of competing political factions, including a significant and influential Communist movement. In fact, the Western Allies struggled to ship supplies to Poland, hampered by strikes from Communist dockworkers in Germany. With Britain, France, and the United States on high alert over the spread of communism, a successful Communist coup in Germany might have compelled the Allies to launch a military intervention. Whether through a Western occupation or a Communist takeover, such events would have profoundly reshaped the political landscape of Germany in the early 1920s.

A fortified Weimar government bolstered by Allied forces might have eradicated the emerging Nazi Party; a Communist regime would undoubtedly have snuffed out any fascist inclinations. The trajectory of Germany’s destiny in the following decades, had either scenario unfolded, remains a matter of intriguing speculation. Militarily, the Polish-Soviet conflict served as a harbinger of the warfare that would soon engulf Europe once more. After four years of stagnant trench warfare, the fighting in Poland marked a return to rapid, dynamic maneuvers.

The use of mechanized infantry by Polish forces foreshadowed the mobile warfare tactics that would later define the Nazi blitzkrieg. Although cavalry would soon be rendered obsolete by World War II, swift-moving tank columns would take their place, executing similar roles in routing and crushing demoralized enemy forces. While it is challenging to determine the extent to which the Polish-Soviet War influenced German military strategists during the interwar years, it is an ironic twist of fate that the Poles would later fall victim to the very same style of warfare they had employed so effectively in 1920.