A beautiful fog lies on the asphalt of the Border Bridge of the Polish German between the Uglnik Dolny and Swed. Below are the insidious strudel Oder. The border troops of the two friendly EU countries collide with each other in camouflage. With certain faces and painted police cellars. On both bridgeheads: hundreds of passengers in their cars, hoping for quick control.
“NULL was protected from Monday,” says 31 -year -old Ark, commander of the six -dimensional unit for the protection of the Polish border protection. A man with a corner person and the calm of the police officer of the village, who has been waiting for his great obligation for years. With the decision of Warsaw, respond to the border control of Germany, it has been since the beginning of this week. The AREK group receives support from local vigilance. Volunteers wear a red and white tie with a Pis Party logo on welcome shoulders and small unpleasant banks made of pepper on belts. In addition, look in the field of comments on YouTube.
The mood between the border guards of both countries is politely said. Men and women in the form share only a few meters of land without a man, but they feel that the worlds are between them.
It began on Monday with excellent ridicule. The Poles ridiculed the outfits of German colleagues – “in order not to forget colleagues,” as the arct adds smugly. “With their beards of Antonio Ryudiger, they all look the same. The German sunglasses also annoy him: “First of all, that they even wear them at night,”-smiles, more reliable, since it always shaves smoothly.
Grotesque traffic of Pinbola
Now AREK stands next to the battery of sovereign brands and looks satisfied with how his team rejects the next car: Mercedes with a Hamburg license plate, which the Germans have just waved. His team is simple: anyone who passes through the Germans goes back in poles. And vice versa. Result: the grotesque movement of the pinball, which turns into an increasingly dangerous grinding. Vehicles that are already half in Poland should be dumped. German passengers are trying to include a narrow road or maneuver back to the German control zone – to be sent back to Poland. Each change in the direction increases the risk of accidents.
From Monday there were five almost failures, two contacts with the bumper, curved an external mirror. “This is developing here, as in German, a rather bad video game,” says Eric, surprised, while a pensioner Bremen with a house for an autodom is trying to turn the Polish coach back. Despair tangible. Drivers come out. The pensioner screams. His wife is crying. The movement is worth it, but the principle remains: those who pass will be sent back.
The place is then aggravated on Tuesday for about eleven hours. Until then, verbal fun remained: several jokes on stolen cars, a highly hairy potato and other national cliches. But then a group of German border guards poses for a selfie: on a turning tree, in a row and limbs, as well as in this cult photograph of the 1939 invasion of 1939. For the Poles, this is a drop. Arik is now also shamelessly emotionally: “It is no longer fun – this is a pure story.”
Police cellars will first start on the Polish side. What follows is not a small debate. This is an open skirmish in which Polish and German border guards are devoted with their police cellars produced in China. Then pillows of stamps fly. Arica people escaped from full boxes against the Germans. Red, green and blue pillows of inks meet uniforms, sunglasses, beards. The Germans protect themselves with ink fingerprints, throw bottles like small manual grenades or Molotov cocktails. What looks like a comprehensive birthday party with too much sugar in tea is actually the first battle of loud depreciation on European land.
Meanwhile, vigilance will act. While the official border guards are still busy with Trowels and ink, PIS volunteers stand for thirst: they irregularly overcome the border and penetrate German customs containers. After a few minutes, drag several batteries, confiscated Polish vodk and herbal liquors into a shaky basket above the bridge back to the country of manufacturers. Part of the load “liquefied” on the spot. The rest disappear in backpacks – or bodies.
The point of twelve pulls the ripcord. Lunch break. Fresh traffic lights turn off, the barrier falls. The sign “break up to 1 o’clock in the afternoon” is configured – in three languages. Border traffic is based, and there is silence on both sides. Only a Russian truck, loaded with the contingent of the original Krakowers, can happen without attention. Why no one knows. And no one controls whether several crowns can hide between Polish sausages.
