He knew this day would come, but never how.
They had their reasons, he supposes. And, of course, they're right.
He admits: his actions prove it now.
They build the Vis in Austria. The final build, that is.
The pieces, still Radom, still made by Poles.
Smuggled out in secrecy, to little workshops. His.
He sees his breath-fog hanging, in the cold.
They kill for theirs. He'd kill for his. Let who is left, be right.
The workbench, though, is where his skills are used.
So he starts his work at dawn, and keeps it up till night.
Steady, careful. Making killers' tools.
The Blyskawica, "Lightning." It takes German magazines.
The Kis machine gun, cobbled up by hand.
The Vis is based on Browning's Colt, a gun he's never seen.
He knows they have slaves make them in the camps.
It's harder work, and riskier. But it's nice his toys are used
consigning Germans to their place in hell.
Some go to Home Army now. And some go to the Jews.
These, to Warsaw. Let them serve there well.