Bożena Ratter: ...when the sewer came to power in Poland

solidarni2010.pl 8 months ago
Felietons
Bożena Ratter: ...when the bastard came to power in Poland
date:21 November 2024 Editor: Editorial

Then erstwhile the minute of disarmament, the lepers of the Brest rooms, came to power in Poland and destroyed the bloody prey of these groins

On November 22, 1918, a rescue came, Lviv was liberated but the fight moved to the province, there were another victims, wounded were hospitalized in January and subsequent months of 1919. Maria of Gorazdowski Machalsk, who lived on the rectory of the church of St. Nicholas, where her older brother-priest Sigismund Gorazdowski was a parish priest: We were locked up for 3 full weeks, the tram did not walk, the lights did not shine on the streets, the houses were locked up, and the guards had to keep all the tenants in order on the stairs. We did not have much to eat, for bread and meat were missing, but we thanked God, for it was inactive better with us than in the city. Another week of this economy, and there would be people starving to death. After these terrible days and 22 sleepless nights, on the morning of November 22 a wonderful, radiant, sunny day arose, and we were awakened by the screams and thunder of the shootings of the closer Kurkowa Street, so everyone in fear that it was the enemy coming, moving to the chapel. The Mass is celebrated in the midst of a continuous bang. But Uncle was inactive at the altar, erstwhile the nun fell and cried, "Our legionaries, our lions, at the gate!" So everyone got down on their knees and was crying and singing Te Deum.

General Kazimierz Sosnkowski recalls (in consequence to the question of what touched him most in 1914-1920) the communicative of the doctor of the 6th Legion Infantry Regiment, Dr. Stefan Buchowiecki:

At least externally I could control all the reflexes, show the wounded a careless smiled face, not give in to any emotion that would take their comfort, or my lancet would put, in danger to the soldiers, tremors in operations. I thought I was going to go through all this terrible war, hardening the spirit from day to day. Paramedics brought in, crawling under the whistle of missiles almost to the ground, again any wounded.

It was the fewer who stayed with the terriblely bled Scout Pluto. And this was the first time I could barely decision my legs to get to the stretcher. I started dressing them. The boys were 13, 14 or 16, moaning quietly, and 1 of them cried under the operating knife and silently cried, “mom”, “mom”. What can I do with him?

They began to drip tears out of my eyes, the knife I could not hold in my trembling hand, - until I could see how powerful the Majesty of the Republic is, how sublime is the desire of Freedom in the Polish nation - erstwhile these small ones, just from the breast of the motherly torn off, learned to look at the world, have already borne Poland in the gift of their young, only begun lives. I wiped my tears. No 1 always saw me cry again.

But those words “mom”, “mom” extracted by wounded scouts, fell into my soul forever. Then, erstwhile the minute of disarming, leperic Brest rooms came to power in Poland and ruined the bloody prey of these groins, the optimism and light always shining brightly to me, were these 2 tiny words of heroic Polish scouts: “mom”, “mom”.

The general's done. We were quiet. To mention heroism? I don't know. The Legion Eagles and the Lion Eagles have done so much that the word, the small human infirm word, will never say it. But they talk and talk until they halt beating, our hearts. (Federation of Polish Defence Unions of the Homeland)

The letter issued by the Federation of Polish Defence Unions for the commemoration of the decade of independency (Warsaw 1928) besides mentions Kornel Makuszynski PURPUROWA KSIĘŻKA:

In my library there are long ranks of books; among them there are delicious golden ridges shining, they are quiet and sweet, what the eyes of heaven have closed, they talk in their sleep with poems; there are those who worship, like the heart of a faithful friend, and there are others, troubled, feeble, loved full soul, like crippled children, are my own. late there was a unusual book in this crowd, to no in the planet like it, in the day with its purple colour bleeding, and in the night darkness shining as if it were alive, full of blood and power... I will take this purple book into my hand present and pray with it; I will read from it a litany of infinite names, and as many times as 1 of it will whisper, so many times from this book a purple drop of warm, dearest blood upon my soul will fall.

This book was written by death. Not this terrible and horrifying, penniless psalm, but this most beautiful one, like a Greek youth, arrogant and joyful death, his hymn singing intoxicating, declaring itself with a victorious cry. And since the death of time for mediocre words does not waste, much in this book does not have words, only as if the very reports of soldiers, short as the lumps of rifles, fast as the flash of sabers, and eloquent as the last “Jesus! Marja!”.

It is called, “In the defence of Lviv and the east Borders, they died from 1 November 1918 to 30 June 1919. Released in Lviv by the Guards, the Polish Heroes were able to build a cemetery for money.

... There are only pictures in this book. No 1 will see them properly, for how can they look through tears? You can only see the faces of the young, cheerful eyes, the measured churns, the student uniforms, but it's all coming together and it's all wailing. How can you look at hundreds of murdered children? I already know a fewer boys well, due to the fact that I keep going through this book and talking to them, due to the fact that it's so young and innocent, and lonely from the picture, looking like, the skinny kindest, the parent was looking and looking.; so, lying awkwardly, I tell him that he's coming soon, due to the fact that only for a minute she left, after a treat for him. And he, a wonderful boy, believes and smiles at me, the lion's dear child.

And next to me he looks at me from a image of Miecio Athenian, serious and sad. He served in device guns and died under the Dublans. He was sixteen. Stefan Fok, Jak Grabski, Zygmunt Gliński, Stefan Haraszkiewicz, Tadeusz Jaszcz – together they have something sixty years. Death took them in her arms, crying. What are you doing here in that large cemetery, small boy named Wilhelm Haluza? How old are you? Already fifteen? Your heart, your device weapon bullets holed, is as old as the top hero. Your colleague, Tadzia Jablonski, do you know what he did? Fourteen years old, and like you, he ran distant from home. He fought like a hero due to the fact that he said he wanted the conflict line to “faster, closer to his mother”. And he died, just like you, just like you... And Kornelia Ludwiczak died and Vladek Krysakowski and Staś Lorenz. And Frania Minowarda de Jana, who was fifteen, was murdered by the Ukrainians in David. Edward Nicholasski fell under the post office... Who shall remember how many were there in the ace, and at what age? After all, he was, who was only 10 years old, a lion of fire...

How many of you there were smaller than a rifle, only God knows who took you with love immeasurable, you and all of your companions, who were mustached and war-timed, shoemakers, locksmiths and tailors, and those girls whom no 1 has kissed yet, only parent and death. This is Bentschina, of the father of the German, erstwhile the army retreats, grabs the firearm and cries: “Brothers, behind me” -gina, stabbed with a bullet; Cholevanka Zophaja, “sheriff of the Legion of Women” dies the most wonderful death; Grabska Helena, a schoolgirl, a sweet woman fell with her brother Jane ; Janina Pruszka, with innocent eyes, out of eternity looking, fell from the sphere, saving an injured soldier; Sulimhska Felicja, so beautiful that she makes herself clear from looking at her picture, fell from the sphere; Zophy Kościusz Wrońska fought in the first line, as a “sold soldier of 1st of the 2nd battalion of the assault company”, and bullets fed her, a sweet girl.

Astonished was death and terrified, she did not get utilized to collecting girls at the battlefield. But that it was in Lviv that it was not surprising. (Kornel Makuszinski Purple Book). Kornel Makuszinski wrote another book for youth “Lviv's Smile”. It was placed by Jakub Berman under heading 898 on the Censorial List of the Polish People's Republic 1 X 1951. The refusal of silence continues to this day, regardless of political options and the passing years, causes havoc in the minds and souls of the nation.

Miecio Atenski, born 16 January 1901, boy of Wenceslas and Stefania of Juranczyk, pupil of the M. hr. Zamoyski mediate School in Warsaw, to which he attended until 1918. He was a associate of the Youth Ambulance. In late 1918 he appeared from the sixth class enlisting as a volunteer for the Polish army. In Lublin he joined the service of the device weapon division, General Iwaszkiewicz's group. In the march to Lviv, the Judicial Vishnia and Sambor in the group of General Aleksandrowicz he made respective battles. He died in Samborska land under the village of Dublana on 18 May during the last Ukrainian offensive. Despite his young age, he showed much nobility and fortitude.

Oh, my God.
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