Three businessmen – two of them wearing blue suits and elegant shoes – have come for firearms training during their lunch break.
“Gentlemen, the Kalashnikov – 10 shots each,” says Krzysztof Przepiorka, an instructor at the shooting range on the outskirts of Warsaw.
Jerzy Ciszewski, a marketing expert, raises the heavy assault rifle, his hands trembling a little, before pulling the trigger.
His shots are not particularly accurate but Ciszewski is not worried. “I’ve only been coming here for two months,” he says.
When the war broke out in Ukraine, he decided to learn to shoot and get his gun licence.
“We don’t know what’s in Putin’s head, we have to be ready for anything,” he says, referring to Russian President Vladimir Putin, who ordered Russian troops to invade Ukraine on Feb 24.
More and more people in Poland feel the same way as Ciszewski. Russia’s attack on Ukraine came as a shock and now they fear the conflict could spread to their country.
If that happens, they want to be ready to defend themselves.
“Poles take up arms” was a headline run by the Polityka political magazine recently, with the report giving details on the nationwide run on shooting ranges, shooting courses and gun shops.
“In March and April we had twice as many enquiries as usual,” says Andrzej Martyniak, co-owner of the B7 shooting range in the Warsaw suburb. Pawel Dyngosz, chairman of Poland’s largest shooting club Amator, has had a similar experience.
“Right after the war broke out, we had more than 300 people interested in membership on some days,” he says, adding there were waiting times of up to three weeks for beginners’ shooting classes.
The rush has since died down somewhat, he says. “But our shooting ranges have extended their opening hours.”
Poland has very strict gun laws, and the hurdles for acquiring a firearm permit are high. Around 658,000 weapons are privately owned in the country with a population of almost 38 million.
Financial expert Andrzej Gajewski, 50, does not have a gun licence. Before the Ukraine war, he went to shooting training once or twice a year. Now he comes to the shooting range every month.
“The example of Ukraine shows that it pays to be able to defend yourself. And when I shoot here, I feel a solidarity with the Ukrainians,” he says.
In the event of war, then, wouldn’t defence be primarily the responsibility of the Polish army?
“Poles don’t like to rely only on the state, they take things into their own hands,” says business consultant Piotr Piela, 52, who is also taking part in the shooting training.
He refers to the handling of the waves of refugees fleeing the war.
“In Germany, the state takes care of things; in Poland, it’s mainly private people who help refugees from Ukraine.”
He, too, has taken in a Ukrainian family.
“More than 70 years after the World War II, Europeans lost their instinct for self-preservation. We were all about having, now it’s suddenly about being,” says shooting coach Przepiorka, 64.
He used to be a lieutenant colonel in the Polish special unit Grom. Now, he is in demand, not only as a shooting instructor, but also as a security consultant. Among other things, he trains teachers how to keep children safe in the event of an aerial attack.
Poland phased out compulsory military service many years ago and so far, lawmakers are not talking about reintroducing it.
However, with the outbreak of the war in Ukraine, Poland’s Defence Ministry registered an increased interest in serving in the army and the volunteer troops of homeland security force WOT.
One of his 15 employees has also just joined WOT and is taking military training in his spare time, says Gajewski. And the entire team has already clearly stated where the next company outing should take place: “At the shooting range – not the restaurant.” – dpa