XV. Under the floor.

Under the floor.

Everyone fled from the countryside to the city, to have peace I did the opposite,

the militia and the UBOs were raging like mad dogs, they disappeared under surveillance,

Staś was released in the last round, and I hid underground,

the UBOs were now toiling under the block of the one who had been interned until then,

in a new area, among fields gilded with various grains, I was free,

every now and then I decorated the bus stop with graffiti, I wrote a slogan on the road,

I was on friendly terms with the peasants as if I were a small-scale worker myself,

increasing the turnout of the underground, I took up disturbing the secret police,

I painted on behalf of the miners, so that finally, in pride, they wanted to wake up,

and a huge inscription was created on the main route of the miners' journey,

Long live the Solidarity of the miners - that they will finally wake up, I wanted to deceive myself,

but they slept soundly like knights, there were no factors to awaken them,

Staś is a guy from the limelight, such as How he and his kind weren't persecuted?

My fellow miners, who avoided Staszek, haunted them; it somehow ennobled them.

The secret police (UB) watched the internees, but they were interested in those they hadn't broken.

The informers knew the secret police. Those in the system weren't a threat; they didn't have enough money in their accounts.

A year after the strike that backfired, they found me in a rural refuge.

Did they? Some helpful colleague probably informed me where the enemy of socialism was .

Nothing goes unpunished. Let the wrongdoer fear fate.

Jan, the informer, went to India, lost his head there, crossed the threshold of death.

Janek's brother, to make purchases in the miners' shop, worked tirelessly.

Probably the guilt towards the wronged extends through the spirits to the family.

Two shelves the younger Ż. bought burned like a torch in a peasant's barn.

I didn't wish anyone harm, I didn't set the fire. That's how I justify the cause.

They say accidents happen, but how many accidents can there be in a family?

Another Ż. He raised his daughter, as you can see, she died in a group returning from a party.

So much misfortune in one family. In nature, nothing is lost without reason.

If you don't get involved, don't interfere when someone sacrifices themselves for your cause.

I returned home. As I entered the hedge, I saw policemen at the door

. I led the policemen out into the field. They were looking for me, but they didn't recognize my appearance.

They were looking at me, and in a flash I saw the resident of the house at the bus stop.

They ran quickly behind the cottage. After a moment, they drove out of the yard in a police car.

Knowing that my privacy was over, I reluctantly reported.

A week later, on Sunday, the same people came for me. They saw me and felt embarrassed.

They took me to the police station, took my fingerprints, and I gave my explanation.

Now I started getting beaten up. They had me at the crossroads. My hiding was over.

I went to Staś

. "What can I do?" the secret police found me. "You're the head of Solidarity. What can I do?" Staś replied curtly. "They've been looking for you for so long, they'll want to talk to you."

Staś's wife either couldn't, or wanted to, show displeasure with my presence.

So, noticing my poorly concealed reluctance, I stopped popping in there with anything.

XIV. General strike.

A general strike.

In Łęczna and at the mine, the atmosphere was as if martial law hadn't occurred.

I had the impression that the mining workers were working more diligently than before the war.

This caused my psyche to suffer. They weren't impressed,

although underground politicians called a general strike for November 10th

to maintain contact with the miners on their shifts. I went down before the crew, and

after my shift ended, I was often the last to leave the mine as a straggler.

I brought papers for three shifts, and I explained the best course of action.

They listened without emotion, took the papers, but I doubted they were any good.

I collected signatures for a referendum to reactivate "Solidarity."

I did this by going from hotel room to hotel room and to the mine bathhouse.

In this environment, I didn't feel a significant lack of freedom,

but my psyche, due to the forced captivity, was in agony.

I had no conflicts with the red-haired boss; he had a rather good relationship with me.

A stranger told me: Your hotel room was searched

to confuse the already confuse, everyone received a rationed drink,

so people drank more than before, because alcohol was a rationed commodity.

The day before the strike, which no one approved,

because no one in any workplace actively took it up,

the boss, a sly one, offered me a round to the management at the end of my shift.

He knew what was going on around me, and he dismissed me with his explanation.

On the day of the strike, secret police were waiting for me at the management office to scare others.

The personnel officer told me to wait on the landing, but he went upstairs himself.

The guys were coming down. I saw a mangy sheep with them. to point out the guilty,

for these people higher goals meant nothing, their karma was lower motives,

I was chained, in my pocket I had a secret message for K. Andrzej, the liaison.

He, strangely enough, was late for work on that day of the trial, as never before.

He was a social worker, these are just my guesses, nothing comes of it,

but the situation I found myself in was unenviable.

At the police station, I remained silent as if spellbound until I swallowed the secret message .

And there was something to it, as I wrote down the information on a scrap of chalk paper,

my throat dry as ash from fear and anxiety, I didn't choke on saliva,

they asked, and as never before, I concentrated on my saliva, watching my tongue,

twenty-four hours of interrogation and two more days,

because they would have released me in half an hour to take someone from the street who was hurrying home.

At the Lublin Security Service, I was constantly changing, only the people who were barging in were constantly changing.

At the end they were nice, they offered me coffee, tea and called me "friend."

In response to the offered cooperation, I expressed my willingness to report the officials

who proudly exalted themselves above the blue-collar crew who worked hard on them.

They deserved it because they violated the dignity of the PHP regulations for employees.

My declaration was supposed to apply to blue-collar workers and was not tempting for the secret police.

Without giving any excuse for my absence, they finally released me. I

wandered through the alleys so that I wouldn't be delivered to the Colonel's Trumpet again.

I showed up at the HR office, no one asked me anything, everyone was very nice to me,

sending me to the construction site, they transformed a miner into a surface worker.

The white-collar staff treated me specially, persecuting me at every step.

It was a good joke. Santa Claus gave me a gift without motivation, a notice from work,

the rights of martial law were used, the employment relationship expired after the New Year,

to make me happier, after a few searches in the hotel, I was thrown out,

and it was fun, my former colleagues from They avoided my person as if I were plague-stricken.

I could already feel the harassment, and tails trailing behind my backside became an everyday occurrence.

Some admitted why they were crossing the street; it was out of fear, my friend.

Although they openly told me so, it still had little to do with their dignity.

XIII. First August anniversary.

First August anniversary.

When I was going to the riot, I took two days off in case I was arrested.

This time, out of fear of what would happen, I didn't take Tereska with me.

When I had a job, I impressed her and it was quite bearable,

as a woman wanted stability, and Litewski Square was etched in her memory,

so that others could feel the "S" rank of the celebrations. I took my friends to the celebrations.

I wasn't openly surveilled and I didn't feel like I was being harassed.

Therefore, although I still had some conservative friends,

later there would come times when everyone around me was scared off.

The anniversary celebrations were more like sports events,

where you had to be quick and agile to avoid being caught by the police,

like in Pamplona, ​​only here it wasn't the bulls, but the ZOMO (Civic Militia) officers who encouraged you to run.

The baton was usually taken by someone who came to enjoy the sight of the riot.

This time, the square was divided into two parts, more or less equally.

The police and the ZOMO (Civic Militia) with the army took their places at The Polish-Lithuanian Union monument,

we at the Constitution monument chanted slogans and sang hymns fervently,

ignoring calls to disperse, and finally provoked them into a chase,

while the secret police provocateurs, like snoopers, were clinging to the free groups.

We were not sharks, but they incited us to overturn cars, break windows

so that we could be caught more easily later, they exposed us to the cameras.

Ironically, whoever got caught later deserved to be called a veteran fish.

When my friend was about to be caught, he blocked my escape route.

He whistled in my presence, frightened people, and was cruelly amused when someone ran away,

knowing about the incident with his friend. I said; What you're doing is akin to betrayal.

The crowd standing nearby with the paving stones was furious when they heard me, trying

to prevent a provocation. I advised them against using those projectile weapons.

I think the motorized units were only waiting to use live ammunition.

The post-war years in Poland and the Czech Republic were cases of violence, unpublished history,

which could only be learned from Free Europe and BBC broadcasts.

A mechanized column arrived, and to save one of their own, they fired a shot from a Scot.

A firecracker exploded less than half a meter from my feet. I seethed.

On reflex, I snatched it away and rolled the dice, hoping the idiot in the turret would be hit.

It wasn't evening yet, and the square was darkening from smoke and tear gas.

All exits from the square were cut off. We were forced to continue our fun,

thrashing left and right, like animals cornered by hunters.

The second anniversary fell on Sunday. I went there again for the cause.

We poured out of the cathedral. ZOMO units were positioned along Królewska Street,

armed with batons, visors, and shields, ready to fight, standing every meter and a half.

They blocked the exit from the church onto Buczka and Kr. Przedmieście Streets.

No one could go where they wanted. They dictated the direction, they themselves provoked us.

Martial law was already over. They probably missed the riots in the city.

XII. Spontaneous strike.

Spontaneous strike.

The rural population is a community with a specific mentality,

the entire artificially driven Polish industry deserves mentioning,

people in the countryside work for a short time, but with toil, then they get a job.

This is precisely the kind of people who came from Poland to Bogdanka in particular.

Industry is not their thing, so they didn't apply themselves and didn't jump,

and their home was a hotel. Due to job loss, they feared losing it too,

so they wouldn't return to the village they were so careful not to return, they kept their noses shut.

That's why Łęczna is a large village, because it is inhabited by those who left their cottages,

like sheep running to their ancestor with their problems,

but I felt they weren't ready and wouldn't follow their sheep.

It wasn't an easy environment, they came from all over Poland looking for work,

for quick apartments and solid pay, and money was their master.

At the beginning of June, I returned from vacation, I had been gone for two weeks,

the fifth month of martial law was over, my psyche had a bit of a rest

, On my return, the guys arrived, many problems had accumulated,

a new forge for lazy minds, the days of solitude were over, quiet,

to free ourselves from the indoctrination of the mind by their accumulated problems.

I said, gather the entire staff of the first and second shifts in front of the office,

I will ask the manager to present your long-standing pros and cons .

The next day everyone was there, I called the manager, they were silent in unison.

Among the crew was Tomek T. All eyes were on him,

he was the father of Solidarity, so I also recognized his seniority in the leadership. At the beginning,

to break the silence, I said; It was time for questions.

Silence continued. The frightened manager relaxed and uttered a curse

to avoid looking completely foolish. Tomek and I began to attack in turns.

For the next few days, Tomasz was taken off his shift by the secret police for confession.

I was secretly glad that despite the storm that had arisen, I didn't have to save myself.

It wasn't my time. He was taking the proverbial heat, I was saved .

Those in the power trough usually didn't consider decency within boundaries

. Manager Romek F. rose to the top, and the manager remained a red-haired foreman, a trickster like a fox.

In a state of war with the nation, it was difficult to get a promotion, since that's how it was, he wasn't for nothing.

Then, as now, a careerist always prevails; poverty never bothers such people.

XI. Świdnica protest.

The Świdnik protest.

Świdnik and Łęczna, both artificially brought to life without urban traditions,

yet the residents of Świdnik managed to boycott the newspaper with discipline.

While there, I saw street marches and televisions displayed in the windows.

A conglomeration of people, faced with the prevailing state of war, showed how to behave.

I wanted to transfer this behavior to the large metropolitan area of ​​Lublin.

It had generational traditions, meeting squares, and an independence monument.

I put the plan into action. My girlfriend accompanied me.

The target was the monument, and from under it, ZOMO officers chased away uninvited guests.

Ignoring the MO, we laid flowers, waiting to see what would happen.

Someone more daring stopped. The number of people was growing quite quickly.

I said, "Repeat to the others, let no one leave when they come."

I knew I had to act quickly before the ZOMO cooled everyone's enthusiasm.

A crowd gathered, and ZOMO buses arrived at Polish Union and Lithuanian Square.

I said, "Let's go." has become a meeting place for Lubliners, following the example of Świdnik,

everyone is terrified, someone suggested chanting common prayers,

I say: don't run away, disperse very slowly, panic is driving them,

I expect you every day at the monument between 10 a.m. and 6 p.m. The evening news broadcast,

go calmly, not showing your fear of our torturers.

I think you'll come in droves, informing your own people and even a random person about it.

I went to the ZOMO flank with an outstretched hand holding our documents.

A random girl with a questioning expression clung to us.

My skin crawled too. Although with us, don't be afraid. I told her,

calmly, take out your ID, we'll see what happens to us.

I somehow stopped thinking about myself, I was afraid for the safety of those gathered.

On the day of the planned February meeting, the ZOMO soldiers occupied the square in large numbers,

while large masses of those who arrived gathered right next to the main post office.

The braver ones approached to lay flowers. It looked downright heroic.

The planted police bitches were bursting at the seams with the arrested kamikazes.

The following days were no different, nothing creative except chanted insults.

The secret police didn't sleep, they inserted provocateurs into the crowd. They had to prove themselves somehow.

I didn't want to drag this out fruitlessly. It's a shame the days were wasted like this.

The knight of Grunwald was still sleeping soundly, and the freedom of assembly had been taken by the devil.

X. I observed, I saw through provocation.

I observed, I saw through the provocation.

Two weeks after the events on section 4, I was transferred to Bogdanka,

in prison, when you'd already become close with your buddies, they sent you on transports.

I happened to know them too. Their mentality also deserves mention,

or maybe I was stupid when I thought it was tactless. While they were constantly talking about cars,

a huge sheet of metal was brought to the shaft and stood there like a dream board.

The dates of all the freedom uprisings resounded on it like a battle retinue,

starting with the words: the party decided to guide us through events.

During the shooting of our ancestor, we retreated right up to the shaft gate.

Despite the screaming size of the slogans, no one noticed them.

We gathered in a well-lit area with a visa notice

to attract their attention. To attract their attention, I said: "Look, someone has cooked up a proclamation

while reading it, someone chuckled derisively, another threw it." This man is crazy,

the word "fool" addressed to the creator was a great impertinence on their part.

After all, I wrote this at the risk of dismissal and arrest.

Only communist clones incapable of action could behave this way.

But it didn't discourage me; I wanted to inspire them with my example.

So next came the miners' town with its walls.

I spent half the night painting over the large advertisements and display windows.

I hoped they would be legible to the workers between shifts.

The weekend was about to begin, but they wouldn't remove it until Monday morning.

The cleaners had the day off, but they were called in as an emergency on Saturday.

To gauge the residents' reactions, I was present as a random observer.

Miners arrived from the night shift, I heard; There's no cure for stupidity.

While washing off the paint, the creator collected countless curses from the women,

and this higher level of intelligence didn't discourage me, though it hurt terribly.

The militia went wild, patrolling the streets at night, and I painted in secret from them.

Even the advertising boards were removed to minimize my exposure,

to avoid falling into the hands of the military junta. I operated as bloodlessly as Janosik.

My heart rejoiced when someone erased the metal sheet underground, another rewrote it.

The foremen and higher supervisors surely saw those inscriptions.

The sheet metal stood for a month. I was happy that the miner, the peasant, was wondering,

maybe one day he, too, would desire a sense of personal freedom and free speech.

IX. December 13th?

December 13th?

Sunday, five in the morning, a dark night, a huge snowstorm and frost,

the group of those selected for change is growing rapidly,

we are waiting long after the departure time, what is delaying the transport,

someone came and said the door at the Węglarz family was torn off,

others reported the war, those waiting to be dispersed to their homes are panicked and afraid,

I remained in the shadows, I don't know what morale prevails within the union,

when we call him, Jaś is afraid to leave the house, when Stach is arrested,

human stagnation due to lack of readiness forces me to act out of duty,

I order a ride from the dispatcher, I put Janek and Rysiek in it,

with the vice-chairman and the chairman I go to Bogdanka before noon, the windows are open,

quiet and empty, my companions are terrified, I don't betray any fear,

there we learn from the political officer that the big shots have been interned,

I don't speak up about who I am, and even those with me had little to say

when they are attacked and intimidated by Mr. Rudyk and Mr. Director Kato,

I calmly defend the chairmen, I speak as if casually.

When they ignored me, they started paying attention, they listened to what I had to say.

After returning to Łęczna, I called a meeting of the Solidarity elders.

There were countless of them elected in the various departments of the plant.

Five guests gathered for the appointed meeting in the hotel lobby.

There was no one to talk to, let alone anything to talk about. Such was the morale and faith.

Around 4 p.m., I went to bed without food. I slept until 4 p.m.

I went to the night shift, exhausted to the point of exhaustion.

People behaved as if nothing had happened. I was a moral idiot.

My mind was slipping away into sleep. I would sleep, sleep, and sleep without decency.

In this helplessness, sitting on the edge of the wall, I fell into an uncontrolled sleep.

I didn't dream anything, I didn't hear the bang, maybe I was unconscious.

How long could I have been in this delirium? I returned when I was being prodded,

Mr. Zawadzki was above me. He leaned over and yelled at me, full of malice,

rushing me to leave. This would have ended with unknown restrictions for me.

I begged the foreman to reconsider his actions. He deigned to think

about what kind of Poland we were living in. When farmers became miners,

I had a plan for rebellion in my head. When I outlined it to him, the dream forgave me.

From that moment on, Bronek, in consent to the rebellion, was my silent partner.

In the transport, I arranged a meeting with the leaders and the hornmen.

In complete secrecy, on the way to Lublin, I presented them with a serious plan.

More out of fear than prudence, they saw no honey in its implementation.

Jaś proposed occupying the top of the shaft tower in 20-degree frost.

Rysio, being conservative, appealed to reason, said to wait it out.

Finally, I settled on mine, they will join, the organization is in my hands.

Rumors about Wujka were already starting to reach me, so I gathered myself to avoid delay.

On December 16th, the Wronia radio station trumpeted the news of Wujka's miners being killed. On December

17th, I was to proclaim a strike, implementing its elements.

Everything was finalized, but I decided to call off the elephant.

I didn't want to take responsibility. The liaison officers said I was crazy.

I ordered the shaft and surface workers to come to the floor to check the levels.

The room was bursting at the seams. I informed Bronka that this would be an emergency plan,

even the manager. The Pytlowany came, curious to see where all the gnomes were coming from.

When those assigned to work were told to leave, I declared police terror.

I said; Please, let's try to preserve the memory of our murdered brothers.

Everyone stood up, took off their helmets, and fell silent, except for T. Bojarski.

He, laughing foolishly, tried to continue the task in his helmet.

This attitude is the Łęczna model of behavior: minding your own business.

The manager, wiping a tear, went home and declared: "Dyć has balls."

We dispersed to work. It was conducted efficiently, like a party rally.

The day after the speech, as usual, a miner's mob poured out of the transports.

From the gate, I was taken to Mr. Rudyk under police supervision. Interrogation

, explanations, intimidation, and I was later driven underground.

On the 19th, the same thing happened, only I was taken to the Łęczyński commissioner.

There were many questions, the miners weren't interested and I didn't have any questions from them.

The most important thing was to mind your own business; such environments happen.

November 30, 2005:

Protest concept.

In Shaft IV, in the horizontal workings, twenty-five meters from the pit, there was a section approximately twenty meters long, divided in the middle by a grate with a strong lock. During the first shift, someone from a higher-level supervisory authority was always present below, and this "white cream" was intended to serve as a guarantee of willingness to negotiate and the immunity of the strikers. On December 17, 1981, between the first and second shifts, both buckets for the crew were to be waiting on the hatches of the pithead. As opposed to the generally accepted alternating movement with priority exit from below. Some of the notified miners from the night shift were to remain at the bottom of the gallery during the first shift. After being divided, the entire crew (who were told not to go anywhere after tools or items needed for the shift) were to proceed immediately and simultaneously to the pithead, cram into the waiting buckets, and descend in one go. After the descent, the strike was to be clearly announced, as not everyone on the first shift had been informed due to a lack of trust in certain individuals. In the event of a disturbance, those opposing the plans, along with higher-ups, were to be isolated in the aforementioned cut-off area. Simultaneously, the tracks were to be rapidly dismantled, the rails of which were to be used to immobilize both buckets, and thus the hoisting machines. Telephones would remain the only communication with the surface.

On that day, despite the strike being called off, the buckets remained stuck on the pithead hatches. The inability to inform the underground crew of the change of plans caused some confusion; the huge crowd underground, unaware of the strike's call, sent the buckets back up when they descended. When I went downstairs on the first flight to inform the liaisons that there was no strike, I was soundly scolded for not informing them earlier and for having to wait so long. They didn't really care whether they went on strike or not, and it looked as if they were doing it solely for my benefit.