Ambush by ZMP Thugs

As for these four that approached me, there was obviously something about me they categorically did not like. They went very closely behind me and tried to strike up a conversation on the topic of my apparent American look. 

All four of them were lightly drunk and I could feel emanating from them a certain self-confidence and unchecked aggression. Most likely they were returning from some meeting of theirs and on the way back drank one or two flasks of sweet fruit wine. Quite probably at this meeting was beaten into their dull ZMP heads propaganda about their best friend, the Soviet Union, and about the greatest nemesis, the United States, with which because of my look and dress they evidently associated me. The matter stood seriously. 

My first thought was flight. I had good shoes, long legs, and I could really run quite fast. Escape from four was not at the end a stain on honor. More so it looked like they wanted to beat me down first, and then kick me into unconsciousness. 

I was ready to run when I decided that this was clear nonsense. Shit, I had been training long enough with Plebanczyk, and with training there was nothing to hide from. After all, the whole time I dreamt of just such a situation. I got very close to them. We were just about the same age. 

The largest of them, looking like the strongest, took a step forward and with hatred hissed, “you American…” simultaneously bringing up from his waist a fairly strong but awkwardly boorish punch. 

I never found out for what American thing he had to accuse me, because in the same second I caught him by the hand and tossed him with my arms such that he was lobbed into the air and with a thud went face first into the stone path, falling at the feet of his three shocked ZMP colleagues. 

As he flew, I held his hand a bit too long and felt that he had a pretty bruised shoulder blade and elbow. Thanks to Plebanczyk and that for several years I was a professionally worked sportsman, all my moves, holds and punches were, even to my own surprise, precise and lightning quick. 

With the second, who instantly jumped on me, I took care of him as if I did nothing else in my life except repeat constantly until boredom the exercise of back flips. In a split second I caught him with both hands by his arms, in the vicinity of his neck, and executed with him a somersault, and at the last moment propelled him away with my feet backwards into the air. He flew beautifully. 

I immediately stood on my feet, and when resentfully he tried amateurishly to lift himself up, with a purposeful and not too strong kick, for him to better remember, I lightly damaged his teeth. The third, who maybe hadn’t had the time to gather his thoughts or to draw logical conclusions from the failure of his colleagues, still tore himself to the brawl. Plebanczyk often warned me that those innocent looking punches very regularly were mortal, which was why with the side of my right hand, something like backhanded, intentionally not too strongly, I hit him on the side of his neck and when he fell, to make myself sure, I fixed him with a kick to his underbelly, and really to his balls. 

The entire tumult lasted no more than five seconds and when in the fervor of the fight I wanted to attack the fourth, I saw that he was very hastily running away. With derangement on his face he ran off so quickly that it was even enjoyable to look upon, how his wide ZMP pants flapped. By those of us who were wild for pro-American thin pants, these wide ones were called Ruri Jezuickie, from the name of the village in which in the year 1892 was born the actual leader of this currently miserable country, the son of the people, comrade Bolesław Bierut. I gave a beautiful performance. 

Never after, knowing precisely my possibilities, did I put myself into unnecessary fights, and to this scuffle with the ZMP members I never admitted to Plebanczyk. In the mold of my master, as a joke I often played the coward. Our trainings, which we continued to the last day of my stay in this town, I began from that time to treat more like some fitness club.