Weekend military training for civilians in Poland: ‘I want to learn things that will be useful in case of war; it’s my patriotic duty’

The Baltic wind blows hard and the blackened sky threatens a storm. The military march Warszawskie dzieci (Children of Warsaw) blares out, evoking the Polish capital’s uprising against the German army in 1944. The music envelops the 43rd Naval Air Force Base in Gdynia — approximately 40 miles from the Russian border in Kaliningrad and 15 miles from the Westerplatte Peninsula, where World War II began — with an epic atmosphere. “It’s to motivate them. At first, they’re a little scared,” explains Lieutenant Colonel Maciej Hulisz, pointing to groups of people scattered across a vast meadow. They are 200 civilians, between 15 and 53 years of age, who have decided to spend the last Saturday in May training with the Polish army.

Tomasz Kuczynski, 16, is one of the youngest. He went under duress, along with his brother and father. He isn’t interested in being a soldier, but admits he’s having a great time. “I thought it would be more of a military thing, with shouting, orders, discipline,” he says shyly after eating a hearty field soup to regain his strength and warm up. They taught him how to shoot — without ammunition — and how to disassemble a MSBS Grot, a 5.56-caliber rifle weighing 3.8 kilos. Throwing grenades was the most fun, but he prefers first aid: “It’s very necessary in everyday life.”

“I want to learn things that will be useful in case of war; it’s my patriotic duty,” Kuczynski explains, assisted by Piotr Langenfeld, spokesman for the 7th Pomeranian Territorial Defense Brigade, who acts as his translator. “There will come a time to act, without time to learn. The threat is real, it’s possible. I see what’s happening on the other side of the border,” says the young man, referring to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. “The war isn’t over, and there’s information that Russia is amassing thousands of troops on the eastern border [in Belarus],” Langenfeld notes. “They’re probably preparing for the Zapad exercises, but anything can happen; there’s a risk of them invading the Baltic states.”

In Poland, defense and the Russian threat are taken very seriously. It’s one of the few things that unites this deeply divided country, which, at 4.7%, leads NATO in military spending as a percentage of GDP. Liberal-Conservative Prime Minister Donald Tusk and his team are in pre-war mode, preparing for the worst. The leader announced before parliament in March that his government is finalizing “large-scale military training for all adult males.”

The prime minister’s words caused a stir because they sounded like a return of compulsory military service. In Poland, military service was suspended in 2010, but it has not been abolished and can be reactivated in the event of a crisis. A month later, Tusk added some nuance, stating that the goal was to increase capacity to train 100,000 volunteers per year, starting in 2027. “Beyond the professional army and beyond the Territorial Defense Forces, we must, in effect, build an army of reservists,” he emphasized.

With 208,000 military and paramilitary personnel in service at the end of last year, Poland has the third-largest army in the Atlantic Alliance. If you add reservists, soldiers in training, volunteers in basic military service, and military academy students, the figure rises to 300,000. But the government wants more. “We need half a million,” Tusk said in March.

The Ministry of Defense coordinates several programs to foster military vocations and encourage civilians to train. The hope is that they will eventually enlist as reservists or professionals. And in any case, that they will learn how to handle themselves in a crisis. Starting in elementary school, they offer basic training on Saturdays throughout the country until July 5, culminating with an offer to spend a month of summer vacation with more realistic, intensive, and paid instruction (6,000 zlotys, about $1,600), which ends with a military oath.

Learning to handle a rifle

That’s what the volunteers were doing on May 31 in Gydnia. Anna Rybolowicz, a 40-year-old quality, safety, and health supervisor at a company, signed up for the training with her 17-year-old son, Jakub. Dressed in a helmet, bulletproof vest, and other military gear, she says that, given the uncertainty surrounding the war in Ukraine, she wanted to feel safer. “I hope to learn how to handle a rifle and know what to do in case of an emergency,” she explains.

“I thought that if the sirens sounded, we should run away, but they explained the different types of sirens, and that we should seek shelter and wait for help,” says Agnieszka Pappe, a 26-year-old who works at a technology company. The young woman, who wanted to participate in last year’s training but found it was already full — it’s in its sixth year, with more than 30,000 participants — doesn’t believe there’s a genuine threat in Poland. “But I feel safer if I know how to react. I know nothing’s going to happen, but who knows…” For her, the preparation offered during the day is too basic, but it’s enough as a first step. “And, besides, it’s free.”

Participants also learn what they should pack in a backpack in case they have to evacuate. “If I could only take two things, they would be wood and something to start a fire, not matches,” explains Colonel Hulisz. They are also taught how rescue dogs and equipment work, how to put on a gas mask and other protective equipment, how to make a tourniquet or evacuate unconscious people, and how to navigate using a compass and a map.

The participants are a diverse mix: teenagers, young and middle-aged women, men dressed in camouflage, people with no interest in weapons who believe the government is exaggerating with alarmist rhetoric but are eager to feel self-sufficient. There are also some survivalists, like 53-year-old Marcin Banasiak, who traveled 125 miles from Brodnica to see how the army works and improve his knowledge. He learned orientation and navigation techniques, including the azimuth guidance system used in the army, and that alone is enough for him.

Banasiak doesn’t need to be taught how to handle a rifle: he has 14 at home, including semi-automatic AR-15s. “It should be part of the national skills; people shouldn’t be afraid to shoot,” he says, criticizing the government for not making this training available free of charge on a large scale.

“In case of an attack, I’m prepared,” says Banasiak, head of operations for a private company. He’s also a hunter and feels confident surviving in the forest. Banasiak didn’t want to do military service when it was his turn in the 1990s, but he’s clear that if necessary, he’d join the army. “I’d go east to secure the border, or I wouldn’t be able to face my family and friends. There’s only one possible direction,” he says, emboldened.

Fear of war spreading to NATO neighbors is lower now than in April 2024, according to a survey by CBOS, the Polish public opinion institute. If Russia were to attack Poland, however, the most common strategy stated by those surveyed (37% this year, 30% last) would be to support the country’s defense, but without engaging in combat. Only 11% would take up arms, compared to 14% last year.

Colonel Tomasz Gergelewicz, a senior expert at the Ministry of Defense’s Operations Center, coordinates the early childhood education project. “Our geopolitical situation and our history mean that we need to be aware of and talk about security starting in elementary school,” he explains, with soldiers visiting schools and adapting their teaching to the students’ ages. It’s a challenge to reach the 38 million Poles and instill in them “this notion of building resilience,” he says in a Warsaw café.

It’s not just so the military knows they can count on a population prepared to support them in the event of a conflict, he clarifies. It’s also so they know how to protect themselves against natural disasters or blackouts. And so they’re aware of the misinformation they face daily. “We know very well that the main threat comes from Russia and Belarus,” Gergelewicz emphasizes. “It’s not just soldiers who protect the homeland; it’s the entire nation. The more prepared society is, the more prepared the country will be.”

At the Gdynia base, built by the German army, later used by the Soviets, and now home to Polish and NATO forces, civilians take their day with the army very seriously. After a pause, they form up, trying to stand to attention, in two lines and under the command of a soldier, heading to their next training point. The march, however, loses all martial character; the steps are disordered, heads are pointed in all directions, and there is no trace of straight backs. More like a simple stroll. Lieutenant Colonel Hulisz, deputy commander of the 7th Pomeranian Territorial Defense Brigade in neighboring Gdansk, smiles as he watches them. “Not one of them has started marching on the left foot,” as the rules dictate.

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