It was the early morning of September 1, 1939, when the Commander of the 121st Squadron, Captain Pilot Mieczysław Medwecki, who was the first to set out to fight in defense of the homeland, ordered Second Lieutenant Pilot Władysław Gnyś: “Władek, you’re flying with me.” Without wasting time, together with Senior Private Pilot Tadeusz Arabski, they climbed into PZL P.11c fighter aircraft and took off on the first flight in defense of Polish skies. Returning from Kraków after a bombing raid, Frank Neubert spotted two Polish fighters behind him. Captain Pilot Mieczysław Medwecki descended and found himself just below the German; Second Lieutenant Władysław Gnyś flew right behind him. Skillfully maneuvering in the air, Neubert let Medwecki pass ahead, then opened fire on him. The aircraft exploded in the air and fell onto fields near Morawica — Captain Pilot Mieczysław Medwecki was the first aviator killed in the war. The flight led by Captain Pilot Mieczysław Medwecki began its takeoff just as the last Junkers Ju 87 aircraft returning westward after bombing Rakowice arrived over Balice, that is, between 6:15 and 6:30 AM. Among them was a Ju 87B from the 2nd Squadron, I./StG 2, with markings T6+GK, piloted by Sergeant Frank Neubert, who recalled: “After some time, flying westward, we saw the Kraków airfield […], fires and great smoke. One aircraft after another dove down […]. After dropping the bombs at about 700 m altitude, we pulled up our machines and flew westward again, toward the Reich, gaining altitude. We reached a ceiling of about 1,000 m when I saw to the right below, and it must have been northwest of Kraków, a field airstrip and Polish aircraft circling above it. Of course, these were fighters that were coming in to land after completing their mission […]. Suddenly I discovered ahead of me a lone-flying Ju 87. It was, equally unexpectedly for me, attacked by two Polish PZL P.24 fighters that I saw flying behind it in the same direction: one to the right, behind and above, one to the left. My immediate instinct was to go to the aid of my attacked comrade. I had to add throttle to close the distance and take up a firing position. I aimed at the Polish fighter flying on the right side. Then I fired my first burst of the war, without observing any result. I had to attack a second time. For that I first had to gain some altitude […], my rounds were disappearing into the pilot’s cockpit, but I noticed no reaction for the time being. When I was aiming for a third firing pass, the attacked aircraft exploded in the air in a great ball of fire […]. My gaze naturally shifted to the second enemy fighter, which had not yet noticed the downing of the first. […] When I took up a firing position, it made an elegant turn to the left and up, turned back, and I never saw it again.”
Lieutenant Pilot Władysław Gnyś, losing the enemy in the clouds, managed to spot other German aircraft flying below. He dove down in a dive and shot down two of them, which fell near the village of Żurada. Both aviators — Neubert and Gnyś — wrote themselves into history as the first victors of World War II, except that each was on a different side. Years later, Lieutenant Colonel Pilot Władysław Gnyś recalled the event as follows: “I noticed two German aircraft flying from my left side, about 1,000 meters lower. They were flying on a heading from Kraków toward Olkusz. I attacked the one flying in the rear. At first I noticed that the gunner was shooting at me, but after a few bursts he stopped firing and the left engine began to smoke slightly. I pulled up. The German aircraft began descending. I attacked again the aircraft that, previously attacked by me, was crossing to my side. The aircraft’s gunner was firing. I fired several long and good, as it seemed to me, bursts and descended. I found myself quite low above the ground. After pulling up, I could not see the aircraft and thought they had hidden behind a hill; however, despite watching the presumed direction of flight, I could not see the aircraft. This was strange to me. I saw something smoking on the ground, but I did not look closely and set course for the airfield. The aircraft I attacked were twin-tailed and, as I determined at the time, they were Dorniers. On the way back, I fired a short burst at a passing He 111 at a great distance from me at an angle of about 90 degrees, but due to lack of ammunition, I turned back to base. On the way back, I noticed Captain M. Medwecki’s burning aircraft on the ground.”
