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The post-war years in Poland and the Czech Republic were cases of violence, unpublished history,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