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.