Abstract

Memoirs are more often written by generals than by scientists. Although the highest rank I received during my five years in the Polish Underground Army, Armia Krajowa, did not exceed that of a corporal-chief (not a very brilliant accomplishment!), it would have been much easier, and possibly even more interesting for the readers, to write about this period. At least there was action, blood, fantastic friends and beautiful girls: a more-or-less classical potpourri of cliches that a survivor (who, in the language we are accustomed to, is nothing more than a random colony that survives on a petri plate after a drastic treatment with a highly efficient inhibitor) might use. But this is not what I’m asked to do. I have to write about yeast genetics. Strangely enough, there is a link between my interest in genetics and my ancient terrorist activities. It is an indirect, devious link, but an essential link, nevertheless. As a child, I was interested in natural sciences, and certainly, this was because of a long-standing family tradition. My father was an embryologist and histologist investigating blood formation at the University of Warsaw. Grandfathers, Chaim Zelig Slonimski and Abraham Stern, were mathematicians and astronomers. I collected beetles, grew tadpoles and paramecia in stinking water, and read ‘Microbe Hunters’ and Claude Bernard. In 1943, von Bertalanffy led me to Franz Moewus, and Franz Moewus inspired me to work on the chemical nature of the gene. And here is how that came about. Joining the Army at the age of 16 1/2 is not a good idea in peace-time, but the notion is even less romantic in war-time when there were two opposing fronts with a German blitzkrieg force at one of them and the other populated by Russian forces ready to pounce, and I as a young …

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