The Budzisko Crisis

[ManBear]

"For two hundred years, the Commonwealth existed only in memory and textbooks.
Then, one chilly morning in February, thousands of people gathered at a border and demanded that it be returned"​

​

Budzisko, Poland — 0445​

It was well before the sun crested over the horizon when the first headlights appeared along the road.

One by one, cars pulled onto the shoulder near the border crossing, their headlights illuminating the darkness and casting long shadows across the empty road. At first, the border guards assumed the drivers were simply making final preparations before crossing into Lithuania. Then the flags began to unfurl. Red and white Polish flags appeared first, then came the Vytis, and finally, flags that had not been seen in public for centuries—bearing the royal coat of arms of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth.

The demonstrators remained quiet. There were no chants. No speeches. No drums. They simply stood along the roadside, holding their flags as more and more Polish citizens arrived. Cars continued to pull in from the darkness, their occupants joining the growing crowd before dawn. The only sounds that night were the occasional barking of a confused village dog and the steady rustling of flags in the morning wind.

By the time the first residents of Budzisko awoke and began preparing for the day, hundreds of cars lined the roads between the village and the border crossing. Twice that number of protesters stood shoulder to shoulder across the roadside. The border guards of both nations watched them carefully. For the moment, no one knew what they intended to do.

By noon, the first buses began arriving. The first few had been painted in the colors and symbols of the National Heritage Front, Poland's far-right nationalist political party. More buses followed, carrying hundreds of additional demonstrators. With their arrival, the character of the protest changed and the quiet demonstration of the morning began to become something louder. Drums began beating and flags were raised higher. The nationalist demonstrators surged toward the border, shouting across the road at the Lithuanian border guards, and the growing number of Lithuanian civilians who had gathered to watch. Then the chanting began.

"Jedna granica! Jedna przyszłość!"

One border! One future!

"Naród chce jedności!"

The nation wants unity!

"Litwa! Polska! Wspólna Rzeczpospolita!"

Lithuania! Poland! A Common Commonwealth!

It did not take long for the once-peaceful countryside to disappear beneath the cacophony. The pounding of drums echoed through the village and the surrounding farmland. Thousands of voices shouted toward the Lithuanian border. The wind carried the sound across the frontier, where Lithuanian police and border guards watched the demonstration grow by the hour. By sunset, the number of protesters had grown from the dozen who had arrived before dawn to several hundred. And the number would continue to grow as day by day more cars and buses arrived.


People came from Suwałki, Warsaw, Kraków, Gdańsk, and dozens of smaller towns across Poland. Some came carrying modern Polish flags. Others carried the banners of the National Heritage Front. But many carried red-and-white banners of a Commonwealth that had disappeared from the map more than two centuries earlier.

Within a week, the village of Budzisko had nearly vanished beneath a sea of red, white, and Commonwealth colors. The elderly residents of the once-sleepy village began leaving. Some stayed with relatives and others simply wanted to escape the noise. The roads that had once carried only trucks and travelers heading toward Lithuania were now filled with protesters, journalists, police, and political activists. What had begun as a quiet demonstration had become an international spectacle.

And then, on the seventh day, the cameras arrived. The first journalist to reach Budzisko was not from a major Polish television network or newspaper but an independent political vlogger. A self-described journalist and committed far-right nationalist. He arrived with a camera crew of two, a satellite uplink, and a livestream audience already numbering in the thousands. He had spent years covering Polish nationalism and criticizing the Royal government in Warsaw for what he called "weakness towards the enemies of Polish civilization." Now he stood on the edge of the largest nationalist demonstration Poland had seen in decades and behind him thousands of protesters waved Polish and Commonwealth flags.

The lithuanian border stood in the distance before the vlogger turned towards the camera.

"Good evening, Poland," the crowd erupted behind me with chants of 'Polska! Polska! Polska!' "My fellow countrymen and women, for seven days the government has remained silent on both sides." He turned towards the border and gestured towards it with his hand. "For seven days our brothers and sisters have stood here. Their message is simple." The camera panned across the road showing the roughly a thousand protesters. "Their message is simple. Two nations." The crowd behind him began chanting. "One commonwealth." With a smile, he turned back towards the camera and continued to speak. "For two hundred years, they told us that the Commonwealth was dead but they were wrong. It is alive in each of us."


The livestream went viral within hours. By midnight clips of the demonstration had spread across Poland. By the next morning, videos were being watched by the international community. By the afternoon the Royal Government of Poland could no longer pretend that the events at Budzisko were merely a protest. Something larger had begun.

 

[ManBear]

Royal Castle - Warsaw, Poland - 1930

The bells of the royal castle had already fallen silent as the King of Poland entered into the broadcast room. For the first time in nearly a week, since the protests had started, Warsaw was quiet. This kind of quiet was the kind of silence the pre-empted a storm.

Across Poland, millions of people sat before radios, televisions, phones, and outside the Royal Castle waiting for the King to speak. In Krakow, banners had appeared along the streets, in Suwalki, the roads leading north were beginning to become clogged with vehicles heading towards Budzisko. And the border themselves housed tent cities to house thousands. They had begun quietly but they were no longer there.

King Stanislaus Grabowski stood behind the podium, wearing his trademarked aged and repaired suit, his hands resting lightly on the polished wood. Behind him hung the Royal Standard of Poland, the white eagle wearing the golden crown, and the standard of House Grabowski.

A small red light came to life on the camera. The Director of Royal Communications held his hand up and counted down from five.

Five.

Four.

Three.
Two.

The red light changed to green.

One.

"Citizens of Poland. Tonight I speak to you regarding the events taking place along our eastern border. For the past seven days, thousands of Polish citizens have gathered near the border crossing at Budzisko, having come from every corner of our Kingdom. They have come carrying Polish Flags, the Lithuania flags, and flags of our shared history. of the Polish-Lithuania Commonwealth. They have come to express their political beliefs and exercise their inalienable rights of freedom of speech and freedom of demonstration. The people gathered in Budzisko are Polish citizens, and as such, they possess this inalienable rights that every citizen of this Kingdom possess. But those rights come with responsibilities. Political beliefs, no matter how deeply held, do not place any citizen above the law. The Kingdom of Poland will not permit violence on either side. It will not permit intimidation on either side. And it will not permit disorder. The Kingdom of Poland recognizes the Republic of Lithuania as a sovereign state and as such we recognize the Lithuanian people to determine their own political future. But I feel I must be clear. No foreign government has the right to dictate the political aspirations of the Polish people. The Kingdom of Poland will not be intimidated into silence. The history of Poland and Lithuania is not the property of politicians but the people who live its history every day. The Commonwealth is a part of both of our nations' history. Its achievements are remembered, its failures studies, and its legacy continues to shape the nations that followed it. But history cannot be rewritten by force. Nor can it be erased by decree.

The People at Budzisko have raised questions that cannot simply be dismissed. Questions about our shared history and culture. Questons regarding the future relationship between Poland and Lithuania. These questions deserve answers. Those answers will not be found through violence or threats. Nor will they be found by placing one nation above another. They will be found through the rule of law and the free will of the people. The future of Poland will be determined by Poland and the future of Lithuania will be determines by the Lithuanian people.

Until that future is decided, the Royal Government will remain vigilant, lawful, and prepared."

The Kingd raised and hand in thanks and stepped back from the podium before glancing down at his prepared speech. Looking back at the camera, he stepped forward again.

"There is one final thing I wish to say. To those gathered at Budzisko. I have heard you, your government has heard you, and the world has heard you. Now I ask you to listen to me. Go home peacefully. Return to your families, communities, and lives. Your message has been delivered, and if there is a future to be built between Poland and Lithuania then, it must be built together. Thank you for you time."

The channels and radios would return to commentators discussing the king's speech as the recording devices ended.

Outside the Palace, fireworks began to explode above Warsaw. Krakow saw protests forming. And in Budzisko, the crowd began chanting again. louder this time. Not the slogans of the National Heritage Front. Not the demands of the politicians secretly urging the protests forward. But something older.

"I Rzeczpospolita"

"I Rzeczpospolita"

"I RZECZPOSPOLITA"

Alex

 

[Alex]

ManBear

Pasiekos, Lithuania — 0445

It was a dark, clear night with a cold February wind howling against the windows of the customs office. It may have been a peaceful night, if not for the fluorescent lights above him humming endlessly and making everything a disgustingly sterile white. Something outside had grabbed Mantas' attention away from the computer screen, breaking through the pitch darkness, coming from the Polish side of the border.

He stood and leaned slightly against the edge of his desk, blinking hard away the tiredness. He pointed a pen at the window, toward the movement where dozens of cars were parking in the darkness. "Hey, Jonas," he called out to his colleague. "Take a look at this."

Jonas looked up from his own screen, chair squeaking as he pushed back and came to stand beside him. He squinted through the darkness beyond the glass, a hand over his brow to block some of the room's light.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Cars. A lot of them, too." Mantas tapped the pen against the glass. "There, and there. Pulling just off onto the shoulder. Quite odd."

Jonas watched for a moment, saying nothing, his breath fogging against the cold pane. More headlights swept in from the dark road, one after another, sliding to a stop along the verge until the side of the road was a broken line of red taillights stretching back into the night.

"That's not normal traffic," he finally pointed out the obvious.

"No," Mantas said with a sigh. "Certainly not at," he looked at his watch, "four in the morning."

He picked up the radio handset from the desk, his thumb pressing down on the switch. "We've got a situation here, Sir."

"What is it?" A voice responded after a moment.

"Various cars," Mantas explained as men became exiting from them. ". . . You should come down, Sir."

Across the border, through the winter dark, these men began moving. Mantas snapped his fingers and pointed at a wall behind Jonas. Quickly, Jonas grabbed the pair of binoculars that hung from a hook and handed them to Mantas. Peering through them, Mantas could now see what these men across the border were doing: waving flags. They were Polish flags, mostly. There was another flag among them, bearing a very old symbol.

"What . . ." Mantas began to himself as a hand came to rest upon his shoulder. Looking to his side, the commander had come down and was holding his hand open. Quickly, Mantas handed him the binoculars and the commander took a look on the situation across the border for himself.

"What did you see?" Jonas whispered.

"A lot of flags," Mantas answered. "I saw a Commonwealth flag in there, too."

Jonas laughed. "Commonwealth? Did the LARPers take a wrong turn to their monthly gathering?"

Mantas shared in the laugh, but the commander brought the joke to an end quite quickly. "Silence," he told the two, and their laughs were no more. "Keep an eye on this," he pushed the binoculars against Mantas' chest. "I'm going to make a couple of phone calls."

"Yes, Sir."

---

Pasiekos, Lithuania — 1045

Mantas looked down at his watch, he should have been home three hours ago now.

Things across the border had gone more busy in the last six hours. Hundreds of people were standing on the Polish side now. Mantas and Jonas both were on their third cups of coffee by the time those who the commander had called arrived. From Smalninkai to Pasiekos, some four hundred members of the Pagėgiai Frontier District of the State Border Guard had gathered, various of their vehicles positioned along the highway, and a helicopter echoing overhead. The commander had told him that just shy of a thousand others had gathered all along the Lithuanian-Polish border to assure the safety of the nation's villages along the border and that none of the Polish would cross. By noon, this force was reinforced with the Kaunas Unit of the VST—having brought with them an armoured IAG Guardian.

Outside, these men and women were building up barricades: concrete barriers brought in with the help of trucks, placed down from the border in three layers from one side of the road to the other to prevent these protestors from racing down the road; away from the roads, interlocking steel crowd control fences were linked together in multiple rows; coils of razor wire were unspooled across the road shoulders and in the ditches, mounted on the barriers and deployed directly on the asphalt to deter any attempt to rush; and behind it all was the riot unit's armoured vehicle, serving as overwatch.

Mantas' commander came in from the outside. "Both of you," he said and the two men stood to attention. "Get to the armoury, get yourselves armoured in anti-riot gear. Get some shields and a baton each."

"Yes, Sir."

---

Lithuania — 1200

The buses arrived around noon and the number of Poles across the border rose well over a thousand.

Some twenty minutes earlier, a journalist that really loved his job had arrived and he and his crew had already begun filming and interviewing before their van had even shut off its engine. They worked for LRT TV and, while they were initially kept away from the border, were eventually permitted to come as close as the customs office. The journalist had interviewed half a dozen people by the time the clock struck 1200. He and his crew were broadcasting across Lithuania and beyond, thousands seeing his interviews and his recording of the events along the border. A dozen other journalists and reporters had raced to the border regions within an hour of the broadcast hitting national television, and throughout the nation, but mainly Vilnius, tens of thousands had taken to the streets with the flag of Lithuania, to hold a protest of their own, against the Polish.

How dare they infringe the sovereignty of their nation, on the day of restoration of their statehood? They were Lithuanian: they had outlived the Russian Empire, outlived the Germans, and outlived the Soviets. If these bastards wished to push irrendetism, they would be in for one hell of a ride. The vėliava waved high in the cities of Lithuania, and its people sang the tautiška giesmė as loud as they could.

---

Following Days

The President made his and his people's stance clear both on social media and through his short comment on LRT TV. Things may have died down on the Polish side of the border, but President Adamkus wished to take no chances. The border guards dispatched to the region remained, the riot police as well, and the military was placed on high-readiness, and orders were given to the various paramilitary commanders that all members should be prepared to pick up arms within a day's notice. Over a decade, but the bitter taste of the Soviet response to the independence remained in many of the minds and hearts of the Lithuanians—never again. Soviet, or monarch—never again.

Not today. Not tomorrow.

 

[ManBear]

Ministry of National Defense - Warsaw, Poland - 0048

The atmosphere within the MND had changed overnight. There had been no secret meetings in the dead of night, no alarms were blaring, and Polish Armed Forces had not been mobilized to the border. But the atmosphere was heavier than normal. Veterans within the buildings likened it to the Peacekeeping mission in New Caledonia prior to the forces being deployed. The situation on the border of Lithuania had become impossible to ignore for the men and women who inhabited the building.

A folder sat on the desk of one of the senior officials, the contents had been assembled from reports received throughout the morning. Intelligence assessments, border observations, and signal intercepts. Each piece of information, taken individually, was unremarkable but when pieced together, it painted a completely different picture. Together, they said that Lithuania had increased the readiness of its armed forces. The riot police being stationed on the border was not as concerning and made sense to the veteran analysts. There were protestors on the border but the increased military communication traffic is what worried them. The Chief of General Staff, Henryk Szumski, stood at the end of the conference table as the latest intelligence assessment was read aloud by one of the senior officials who sat at the table

"At this time, there is no evidence of significant Lithuanian force movements toward the Polish border. There have been no indications of large-scale concentration of armor or mechanized units and air activity remains within expected parameters. Border Guard and riot police deployments remained elevated, which is to be expected from the situation." The analyst paused. "However," he continued, "Lithuanian military units, according to our intelligence, have been placed on a heightened state of readiness. We assess this to be a precautionary measured in response to the ongoing protest."

One of the Generals, Franciszek Gągor, leaned back in his chair. "Precautionary," he repeated.

"That is our assessment, sir." The analyst looked back at the document to insure that was indeed what it said. "Not with certainty is the exact wording."

Silence filled the room at the answer.

"Then we assume nothing." The Ministry of National Defense, Wojciech Tomaszewski, finally spoke.

The officer at the head of the table turned towards the map displayed on the screen. The Polish-Lithuanian border was highlights, alongside the major roads, crossings, and military installations on both sides.

"Are we seeing anything that would indicated offensive preparations," asked the Minister of National Defense.

"No, Minister."

"is there anything that suggests they intend to reinforce the border?"

"Nothing Significant at this time."

The Minister nodded slowly. "Then we don't create a crisis where one does not yet exist."

The Chief of General Staff looked toward him. "And our forces, sir."

"Continue normal operations," came the Minister's reply. "But I want every commander in the region informed under secure channels. No unnecessary movements. No provocative activity." He paused to look at the intelligence officer. "And I want this situation monitored closely."

"Yes, Minister."

The meeting began to break apart, but no one seeming particularly eager to leave. The official assessment remained unchanged. Lithuania was not preparing for war. But for the first time, the possibility that the situation could become something more serious had been formally placed on the table.

---

Border Guard Outpost - Budzisko, Poland - 0517​

Word had reached the border before the sun had risen. There had been no major announcement, no sirens, and no sudden mobilization of mechanized forces. But the men and women stationed at the Budzisko station had been told to pay closer attention to the Lithuanians. The information had arrived through the chain of command, through encrypted channels, with the same dry language used for everything else.

No immediate threat, no indication of offensive preparations, continue normal operations, maintain increased vigilance.

Nobody at the border needed to be told what that meant. The guards began watching the road north than the one that lead south. What traffic that could make it through the protestors continued to move. Their jobs remained the same. Check documents, stamp papers, and wave vehicles onward. To anyone passing through, Budzisko looked almost exactly as it had the days prior. Except now the Polish personnel were watching differently now. Lithuanian vehicles approaching the crossing drew more attention than it normally would have. A patrol seen in the distance would be noted. Each and every unusual movement that would have drawn zero red-flags prior to the protests would be reported quietly through the chain of command.

At the edge of the crossing, a Polish border guard lowered his binoculars. "Anything?"

The soldier beside him shook his head. "Nothing unusual."
"Well keep watching. I don't want to be the reason, Lithuania launched a surprise attack on Poland and got away with it."
A short distance away, an officer stood beside his vehicle with a radio pressed against his ear. "Say again."
His face had concentration and defeat on it as he listened to whomever it was on the other side of the encrypted communication device. "Understood."

He clipped the radio back into its holster in the vehicle. "That was headquarters. Lithuanians remain on high readiness. No movement toward the border. We're to continue monitoring the situation from here."

The enlisted border guards knew what that meant. More surveillance shifts just watching the border. More surveillance shifts watching the protestors. Many of them wished for a raise and an extended leave. No one knew what the Lithuanians expected to happen next but now they knew they were expecting something. Or preparing for something. And until they did know something, every vehicle coming from the north would be watched a little more carefully than the one before it.

---

Protestor Camp - Budzisko, Poland - 0600

The protesters were unaware of the sudden change of atmosphere within the Ministry of National Defense or the border crossing itself. As far as they were concerned, the morning had gone much as expected. Breakfast was made in batches and served to the protesters still present. Much of the fields on either side of the road remained filled with tents and people. The crowd that dominated the sides of the roads were smaller than they had been earlier in the week. Some people had gone home and others had arrived to take their places. There was no panic, no shouting about soldiers and no rumors of war. The people of Budzisko had other things to worry about. The cold, long wait times for the latrine, traffic, and speeches.

A makeshift loudspeaker cracked to life somewhere near the front of the crowd.

"Brothers and sisters." The crowd answered with cheers. "We have stood here peacefully and we will continue to stand here peacefully." More cheers and the Commonwealth flag rose above the crowd. And then a Polish flag. And then more. Soon dozens were waving in the morning air as the protest found its rhythm. The chanting began soon afterwards. The same slogans that had been shouted throughout the previous week echoed once more across the crossing. The protesters believed they were making their position clear. They believed the pressure was working. They believed that, with the situation on the Polish die beginning calm, the worst confrontation might already be behind them. They did not know that several kilometers away, Polish border guards were watching the Lithuanian side of the border more carefully than they had the day before. They were not aware of the intelligence reports that had already reached Warsaw. They definitely did not know that President Adamkus had ordered the Lithuanian Armed Forces to a heightened state of readiness. And they certainly did not know that, across the border, Lithuanian commanders had begun reviewing their contingency plans. To the protestors this was simply another morning of demonstrating. Another day of standing side by side to likeminded individuals.

The young man near the front climbed onto a concrete barrier and raised a Polish Flag above his head.

"Polska! Polska! Polska!"

The chant rolled down the road. On the other side of the border, Lithuanian officers standing watch would be able to hear the distant noise and see the gathering crowd. The protest would continue. And for the citizens there, it was still only a protest. They had no idea that governments and military commanders were beginning to treat it as something potentially something much more serious.

---

Undisclosed Location - Warsaw, Poland - 1200

The meeting had not been recorded. That was the first condition set. The second was that no one outside the room was to know it had taken place. The third was that, should anyone ask, the men and women sitting around the table had never met. The National Heritage Front leadership arrived separately. One car at a time. There were no party flags, official vehicles, or security detail to attract attention. By noon, five representatives of the NHF sat in a quiet room several floors above the city. Across from them, sat three men who, officially, had no reason to be there. One was a senior government official. Another was a military adviser. And the third had no formal title that mattered. He was the man who had arranged the meeting.

For several minutes nobody spoke. They just looked at each other in the room. Then the senior official placed a folder on the table and slid it across to the NHF leadership.

"Budzisko."

The NHF chairman looked at the folder without opening it. "What about it?"

"The protests are becoming significant." This time it was the military adviser who spoke.

The Chairman's response was curt to say the least. "We know."

The senior officials reply came quickly. "Do you?"

"We organized them." The chairman's expression hardened."

No," the senior official replied. "You organized the beginning."

​

After he said, silence filled the room and the official opened the folder. Photographs, reports, maps, and images of Polish flags hanging over the roads at the border. Crowds gathered in the darkness and Lithuanian border personnel stood behind barriers.

"The protests have captured public attention," the official said. "The government is under pressure. Lithuania is under pressure. Everyone is watching."

"That's the point," the Chairman said in response.

"Is it?"

Leaning forward, the Chairman spoke. "What exactly are you suggesting, sir."

The official leaned across the table and with one had, flipped the folder closed.

"I'm suggesting that this is an opportunity. Lithuania has already reacted."

This time one of the NHF representatives spoke. "Riot Police. Border Guards."

"Yes,' came the official's response. "And now their military is entering into a state of heightened readiness."

The room became quiet again and the NHF Chairman frowned. "How do you know that?"

"We know," came the military adviser's response.

"So you're saying that Lithuania is preparing to attack Poland?"

"No," came the immediate answer. Too immediate. "We're saying that Lithuania is frightened."

One of the NHF representatives laughed audibly. "Frightened of some protesters?"

"Perhaps."

"Then why raise military readiness?"

The military adviser leaned forward. "Because they don't know what happens next." The senior official slid another document across the table. "This is the moment when pressure matters."

The NHF Chairman looked down at it. Inside, it listed a series of recommendations. More demonstrations. More media coverage. More demands of action. He looked back up to the three men sitting opposite of him. "You want us to increase the protests?"

"We want you to maintain them."

"That's not the same thing."

"No," the senior official said. "It isn't."

One of the NHF representatives shifted uncomfortable in his chair. "What if someone gets hurt?"

The senior official's expression didn't change. "Then we respond accordingly."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only answer you need," came the cold reply.

The NHF chairman stared at him. For the first time, he began to understand that this meeting was not about the protests. Not entirely, at least. "You want a confrontation."

The military adviser shook his head. "We want Lithuania to understand that Poland will not be intimidated."

"That's a convenient way of saying it."

"Call it whatever you want," came his reply. "What matters is that Lithuania is already reacting to us."

The chairman looked at the documents again. The photographs, the crowds, and the border. Then he looked toward the map on the wall. Lithuania. Poland. The border between them.

"You want us to keep the pressure on," he said.

"Yes."

"Until what?"

There was no reply. The silence lasted for several seconds until the third man in the room, the one who had arranged the meeting, spoke for the first time. "Until the Lithuanian government makes a mistake."

The chairman's eyes narrowed. "And if they don't?"

The third man smiled faintly. "Everyone makes mistakes eventually."

That seemed to propel the chairman back into his chair as if defeated. He had expected political assistance. Maybe even funding and access to a sympathetic media. But he did not expect this. "Let me make something clear, "he said. "The NHF will ont call for violence."

"No one is asking you to."

"We will not attack Lithuanian personnel."

"Of course not."

"We will not cross the border."

The third man nodded. "Naturally."

The chairman studied him. There was something wrong with the answer. This had been too easy.

"Then what do you want?"

This time, the official did not hesitate. "Keep the people in Budzisko. Before you ask why. It's because the longer they remain there, the more difficult this becomes for Lithuania."
"And for Poland?"

"Yes."

The official's eyes moved towards the window. Far below, Warsaw continued its nightly routine. Cars moved through the streets. Lights burned in apartment buildings. The city had no idea what was being discussed in this room five stories above it.

"The people at Budzisko believe they're protesting for Poland," he said.

"They are."

"Good."

The official turned back towards the table.

"Then don't disappoint them."

"You're asking us to use them."

"No." The answer was calm. "We are asking you to lead them."

There was a long silence before the chairman closed the folder. "We'll continue the demonstrations."

The official nodded. "And the media?"

"We'll keep our people talking."

"And the government?"

"We'll demand action."

"good."

And with that the meeting appeared to be over. Chairs moved. Papers were gathered. NHF Representatives began preparing to leave. Then the military adviser spoke.

"One more thing." This caused everyone to stop as he looked directly at the chairman. "If something happens at the border. Anything. You will not call for your people to leave."

"Why?"

"Because if they leave, the pressure leaves with them."

The chairman's face hardened. "What exactly are you expecting to happen?"
The military adviser said nothing. This time the official responded instead. "We're expecting nothing." He paused. "We are preparing for everything."
With that the meeting had been fully adjourned. The NHF delegation left the room one by one. After the door had closed behind them, the three men maintained the silence for several seconds. The the adviser spoke.

"Do they understand?"

The official shook his head. "Not yet."

"And when they do?"

The man who had arranged the meeting looked towards the closed door. "By that time, it won't matter."
He opened the folder again. The first page contained a map of Lithuania. The second contained an assessment of the Lithuanian military. The third contained a proposed sequence of events. At the bottom of the page was a handwritten note.

The objective is not the protest.

The objective is the response.

Alex