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Widziałam, jak studenci wpadali do kościoła Świętego Krzyża, myśmy tam nie weszli (potem była tam masakra), tylko uciekliśmy w ulicę Sewerynów, gdzie była jadłodajnia studencka. Było pusto, cieszyliśmy się, że się nam udało, mieliśmy stamtąd blisko do domu na Górskiego.
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I stumbled upon Marek, and together we ran from the police into a crowd of people. I saw students burst into the Church of the Holy Cross, but we did not go in (it turned into a bloodbath later), instead we ran towards a student cafeteria on Sewerynów Street. It was empty. We were glad we had made it, and it was just a short way from our home on Górskiego Street. Suddenly, we heard terrible wails and cries of a man being beaten. On the ground we saw a scrawny guy. Afterwards we learned that he was a student from our university's history department, Eugeniusz Temkin. He never left Poland, became a historian and worked at the Lenin Museum. Born in a prison camp in Siberia, brought up by his mother, he was fatherless, almost a cripple, and he wore hearing aids. That small, frail boy was being tortured by a band of Golędzin militia. Terrified, we started to scream at the top of our lungs: “Gestapo! Gestapo!”. After that, we were both arrested; I was detained briefly, Marek was released two days later.
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