On the first day of Shavuot, in the “Nowy Azazel” Theatre, a matinée performance was held, bought by the “Thirteen.” Not expecting anything bad, and with a free ticket in my hand, I went there. Here is what I saw:
12 o'clock. The theatre half-filled with civilians. Hubbub, bustling—and waiting. I hear voices: “Our boys are coming any minute now!” Indeed, reasonably on time, hundreds of feet can be heard stomping without any rhythm. From behind the door, the “Thirteen” emerges in battle formation. Leading them is a fat blond, very popular on the streets of
