“Attention! Attention! We shall now present to you the speech of the president of the Republic of Poland, Professor Ignacy Mościcki”—[and then]: “Citizens! Today at . . . o’clock the enemy declared [2] war on us. . . .”
Again you hear the beating of the boots. Again the grey line of heroes stretches on and on. Stomping. Boom, droom-droom-droom—boom, droomdroom-droom . . .
Uuuuu-eeeeeeeee!!!
The sirens started wailing over the city. Uuuuu-eeeeeeeee!!!
Their giant necks are choking out: “I declare the city of Warsaw to be under a state of emergency. The city of Warsaw. Attention! Attention! Attention! Emergency in the city of Warsaw!”
Barely visible, three silver machines have appeared high in the sky. Harbingers. Their tentacles stretching over the city. The zenitówki2 sound off. A metallic thud like when you bang on a barrel. Fiery red oranges are flying up at the enemy.
Ratatatat! Ratatatat! Ratatatat! Machine guns are firing. Through the sound of the artillery you can still hear a dull rhythm. Thousands of legs are still drumming. Thousands of boots are still stomping down on the hard, paved streets. Thousands of bullets are waiting in barrels. [3] Thousands of bayonets are longing for the vile, Polish-hating blood of the enemy. The rectangle shape of a propaganda poster peeks out from among the advertisements on the walls. A blood-red mobilisation poster obscures it for a moment. It catches fire, burns, and the fire dies out. Everything resumes its place.
“A violent attack must be fought off with violence.”
The grey ranks of soldiers are marching in rhythm. Stomping boom, droom-droom-droom—boom, droom-droom-droom, To war, to war. Left . . . left—Left, right, left. To war!
War entered the city. Stormed into it. It penetrated the silent buildings. It brought the depressed people to life, and rent their ties with their offices or workshops. It set into motion that dense swarm of people who make up the population of Warsaw. It surprised everybody.
