A friend of mine told me about a neighbour of his from Piaseczno who lived in the same block of flats about fifteen years ago. He was an old man of seventy who had been a Polish Lancer and fought in Poland’s month-long struggle against the Wehrmacht at the start of the Second World War. He’d then been imprisoned in Auschwitz and survived the horrific Death March at the end of the war to return to his native town. As a result of his army membership and experience in Auschwitz he had a pretty good pension, most of which he spent on getting completely sozzled. One day my friend was leaving his block of flats and was walking downstairs when he was confronted by the sight of the old man, sprawled across the floor and clutching a bottle of vodka in one hand and a lance in the other, which he was now waving unsteadily in the direction of my friend’s face.
--- where’s your Dzien Dobry? says the Lancer
--- Dzien Dobry, stuttered my startled friend
--- Very well.... you may pass, slurred the Lancer, lowering his weapon.
What a story. It encompasses four elements of Poland’s collective national psyche and history: alcoholism, Auschwitz, Poland’s Lancers and the perils of communal living.
oh and the fifth element that the old men tend not to stray far from the house. :)
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