Casey Zachowski of the Banner of Jasna Gora helps a boy with his suit of armor. PHOTOS BY LINDSEY SHUEY
BARNESVILLE - In full costume as 17th-century Polish nobility, Adam and Agnes Machala of Stroudsburg waited in line for food during Lithuanian Days at Lakewood Park Campground Sunday. Agnes, her dress lined with bear fur, wanted the spinach soup. Adam, his sword tucked at his side in a blood-red sheath, wanted bandukes. Adam and Agnes are members of the Banner of Jasna Gora, a group dedicated to reenacting the medieval period of Lithuania’s history.
“It’s like a live history lesson,” Agnes said. “People can see it and touch it. I think it’s more interesting than just reading a book.”
What’s a Polish nobleman doing at a Lithuanian heritage festival? It’s a long story, one that the Banner of Jasna Gora wants to tell with live actors and even medieval swordfighting demonstrations. From 1386 to 1795, Poland and Lithuania were united as one nation. The alliance began with the wedding of the Queen of Poland to the Grand Duke of Lithuania. It was a marriage of convenience, as the two nations were under attack by the Teutonic Knights. In July 1410, the Lithuanian-Polish alliance defeated the Teutonic Knights in the Battle of Grunwald, cementing their power for the next couple centuries. The battle was immortalized by local folklore and toy action figures. Grunwald remains a source of patriotism and solidarity between the two nations, and the Teutonic Knights remain a source of resentment.
“They wanted to take everything they could,” said Rich Golazeski of Somerset, N.J., President/King of the Banner of Jasna Gora. He too was dressed as a Polish nobleman.
“They pretended to be Crusaders fighting pagans in Northern Europe, but they killed Christians. All in the tradition of German genocide.”
Golazeski sat in front of a resplendent painting of the Battle of Grunwald in all its heroic carnage. In the center was Władysław II Jagiełło, King of Poland, who looked as wild as his horse as he charged through the bejeweled warriors. In Heaven above, Saint Stanislaus claps his hands in prayer as he witnesses the chaos. The painting also portrays the superstars of the battle, the Hussars. These Polish cavalrymen were known as the Angels of Death, so feared that some soldiers’ contracts would excuse them from facing them. Replicas of Hussar armor, with heart-shaped ear holes in their helmets, were on display, as was a traveling icon of Jesus and Our Lady of Czestochowa. It was the kind that the men in the painting prayed to before battle. Not all of their prayers were answered. Are the descendents of the men who prayed to these icons, the men whose battle-hardened faces come alive in the painting, strolling through the campground today?
Reenactors Joan Karasinski and Agnes Machala with Charlotte Cambra of Barnesville. Behind them is the painting of the Battle of Grunwald.
Next to the Banner of Jasna Gora was a scene from hundreds of years in the future, but no less representative of the Lithuanian spirit. It was an encampment of Lithuanian Partisans, those who resisted Soviet rule in the years following World War II. They hid in the woods, attacking whenever possible under the cover of darkness. The mock camp was complete with weapons, chicken cooking on the fire and accordions. The Partisans would play music from the farms and villages they hailed from - and the songs that would be written about their exploits as soldiers. An altar dedicated to the Partisan movement shows a picture of one of its leaders playing the accordion.
“I would have a number of partisans of my command, and we would coordinate with other partisans for individual or collective action,” said Aleksas Radžius of Baltimore. The founder of Lithuanian Partisans Living History, Radžius wore a pre-WWII Lithuanian Army Major’s uniform. The buttons of his uniform bear a coat of arms dating back to the Lithuanian Empire - a reminder of his country’s proud history of independence.
Aleksas Radžius (far left) and the Lithuanian Partisans Living History.
“They’ve always been this way,” he said. “They stopped the German expanse to the east in 1410, they have always fought for their independence. They never submitted. When they had no choice they had no choice, but even when you are occupied you fight for your independence. As a matter of fact, the Russians are still blaming them for breaking up the Soviet Union!”
A melancholy woman’s voice came to the Partisan altar. It lilted over the booths selling margučiai eggs and carvings, over the man dressed as a Lithuanian clown in messy red facepaint. The voice was singing in Lithuanian. A woman came up to Radžius, bragging that her heritage was “100 percent Lithuanian on her father’s side.” She talked about the brutality her ancestors witnessed in war, and how she feared for the world today.
“You can never predict the future,” Radžius told her, “so you have to do what you can today and be happy.”
The voice continued to sing.
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