I love the place: dusty country roads, patches of forests and gently rolling hills. This particular strongpoint is a compact one, with just 13 pillboxes. Whenever I sit on the roof of any of them I can see almost the whole bunch scattered around the area as far as the old 1941 German-Soviet border.
The vital road going from a railway hub of Łomża was screened by numerous strongpoints and the Soviets did their best to catch up with the construction schedule. While in many other places all they came up with were empty concrete shells with no equipment fitted, here they did manage to fully equip some of the pillboxes.
But still many were empty and elaborate diagrams chalked by the builders on the walls are the only proof where the wiring and plumbing would go. It's a strange feeling to look at the drawings – they are clear for me, but I still have that weird feeling that I am looking at the hieroglyphics carved by an unknown breed of some ancient species.
And it's even stranger to remember that within a day or two from the moment they carefully chalked their schematics they had to run madly for their lives.
We have all seen the old WW2 photographs showing flocks of Soviet prisoners, some even partly dressed, hands high in the air, animal fear in their eyes. Yes, they were the enemies, but they were humans after all, too.
And these diagrams remind me there were indeed living beings once lurking there because I can feel their fear forever lingering in the cold, empty chambers.
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