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A few military cars pass us by, mostly Opels. They are going very slowly as if they don't want to get dirty from the street dust. They look brand new, possibly because the war has only lasted four weeks so far. Moreover, I think the Germans might be driving the best cars to make an impression on people. Officers look proud and confident, they are wearing gloves and steel helmets, and they are barely paying attention to the Poles who are watching them with interest.

All hell breaks loose over Mokotow. Bombs go off so often that we cannot tell one explosion from another. It is one continuous, prolonged sound. First, we see a piece of soil or a part of the wall flying high into the air, then there is a bang, and, finally, we see fragments of buildings and brick plaster fall down.

Every day I have trouble choosing the right adjectives to describe the intensity of the siege. The words “today was even worse than yesterday” do not say much and I know that one day when I read again what I wrote, I will not be able to assess the entire siege correctly.

Nevertheless, I have no doubt that today was much worse than ever. The same gunfire, the same demolition and incendiary bombs... only on a much larger scale.

The situation is getting worse day by day. One of the reasons is the growing hunger, another one is that the help that everyone's waiting for still does not come. Our courage is still greatly admired abroad... words, words, words.

Is our sacrifice in vain? Should we bow down before the enemy? Stop fighting and give up? After what I heard today about anti-aircraft defense, definitely not! The guard assured me that British bombers are expected tomorrow. It must have been difficult to send them here, but we have to keep going.

Hitler is obviously intensifying the siege to crack down on us. He is unwilling to wait for hunger and the misery of civilians to force them to raise the white flag. He has no time to spare. He promised his people "Blitzkrieg" and conquest of Poland in two weeks. And now here we are, at the end of the third week of murderous fights, and Warsaw is still standing. Modlin is also bravely defended. Hel is still in our hands, as well as many other pockets of resistance.

This evening, the broadcaster announced the President to be on his way to the radio station. Half an hour later, we heard the President praising our steadfast and spirited defence, the will of resistance, and the righteousness of our cause.

What he was saying could not lessen the difficulties to come. But, as always, it gave us the strength to survive another day of the siege. The war on our sleep, the harassment of gunfire and night explosions do not ease off.

For the whole night, we heard the noise of fighting on the right bank of the Vistula. There was hardly a break in the rattling of machine gunfire. Heavy shelling kept us awake in fainthearted vigil. 

The sound of battle was not approaching so probably yet another attempt at breaking our defense by the enemy has failed. How brave our defenders are!

Meanwhile, the Germans are still shelling Warsaw. Citizens are looking for shelter on lower levels of the buildings and waiting for their fate. People are constantly on the move between the suburbs and the centre in search of safe havens. They are often driven by pure chance or an instinct telling them to pack their belongings and go. Sometimes it's lead by the example of other people or friends claiming one district to be safer than the other.

Along the streets soldiers are attaching phone cables to lampposts or trees in order to connect centre to the suburbs with barricades. That's where the real theatre of action is now. They have been bringing in news of our brave defenders engaged in heroic fights. How much we crave to hear that German charge was weakening. But there has been no good news for Warsaw today. Shelling from both south and east confirms the city is surrounded.

I have never seen a bigger mess in my life than in the headquarters of the Civil Guard in Warsaw. I asked about the possibility of meeting with the commander or his deputy, Mr. Gebethner, but no one knew where they were at the moment, and besides, everyone from the doorman up was amazed that someone wanted to do something. This place was rather the impression of a club of lost gentlemen. And I was enraged to hear that these gentlemen organized the bread delivery exclusively for their own use.

No message spreads among hungry people faster than the one about baked bread. It makes them gather like moths in the light. Weaker and unarmed civilians, especially the residents of Wiasna, were waiting quietly or arguing about the place in the queue, but they did not have the courage to enter the bakery. It was a privilege of the strong. Even two of them and the gendarmes at the door were helpless when the officers entered and ordered loaves. The baker took every order - for a hundred loaves, for a thousand, for ten thousand - it did not matter to him.

I was about to enter the house to see the crater when they brought in a wounded soldier on a stretcher. Glass cracked loudly under the shoes of men carrying him down the hallway.

We laid the wounded soldier on the bed in one of the rooms. He fainted from pain.

A persistent rumour claimed 9th of September to be a day for Hitler. No one knew why. Civilians were telling this to soldiers, soldiers relayed it to civilians. This rumour was travelling from mouth to mouth, pervaded the air. In the end everyone was asking the same: "What's going to happen with Hitler today?" I myself was sure something was bound to happen.

By the well, I ran into a pilot drinking water. He was limping and leaning on a rough stick. He had been injured during a forced landing. I asked whether he'd like to come in, eat something and rest his foot. It took some coaxing to persuade him. He was truly hungry.