The Selection is a legal execution of the ego. The true cost of joining the elite commandos - Maj...

Major Kubs describes dawn at the 'rzeźnia' (slaughterhouse) on the shore, mist rising from the lake, and rows of soaked participants pumping in unison without knowing how many they must do. He never counts; he instead watches for the first signs of collapse or dishonest movement. The rule – 'you either do something well or not at all' – is a life principle he hammers into every candidate. If you cannot perform a valid pushup, you stand up and voluntarily leave the line.

The protocol is drawn directly from the story of the female finisher. After three days of rain, at 2 AM under a shelter, she stripped completely, wrung out every item, hung them, positioned her boots for immediate donning, put on a dry polar suit, and only then slept. She lost 20 minutes but remained combat-effective. In contrast, men who collapsed in their wet Gore-Tex suits developed groin fungus, foot rot, and were physically destroyed within three hours. Major Kubs presents this as a case study in tactical micro-recovery.

Major Kubs references Afghan fighters who wore only canvas sneakers and carried a second pair, knowing that by 11 AM the dew-soaked pair would be dry. He has watched modern candidates show up in expensive Gore-Tex boots only to develop severe fungal infections because the boots never dried. The footwear choice is one of the first strategic decisions a candidate makes, and it often predicts their ability to adapt.

Major Kubs recounts how, after three days of wet and cold, a simple cup of tea with sugar is delivered to each person, and they sip it for 15 minutes, practically in ecstasy. A slice of bread, which they haven't had for days, becomes an overwhelming sensory experience – its smell, its texture in the mouth. He deliberately uses the hated paprykarz to create a negative association, so that years later, smelling it brings back the whole ordeal. One past participant wrote that he would never touch paprykarz again.

He describes a girl who nearly drowned on her first attempt because of severe claustrophobia while swimming under a pontoon, the space so tight she could barely fit her mouth to breathe. She persisted, finished the Selection, and later ran 200-300 km ultramarathons. The obstacle course includes a 'psychological track' with a labyrinth, concrete pipes, and water-filled chambers. He says the track was used by Poland's best special forces and remains a fundamental crucible for candidates.

Major Kubs explains that the whole trick of training is to erect a wall in front of a man and make him climb it with immense effort. If the wall is higher next time, he will still climb it because he now believes he can. The march with no end is one such wall. He mentions that even participants' own bodies rebel less when they stop looking for the finish line. This is paired with the principle of total unpredictability – they never know if the next event is shooting, water, or a psychological test.

He tells of a massive, chiseled 190-cm man who crushed all physical tests but could not memorize under pressure. The major burst in three times at 2 AM, yelling, and the man kept stuttering. He was removed. Meanwhile, smaller, unassuming candidates sailed through. The poem becomes a personal mantra for life; past participants sometimes meet him and spontaneously recite their verse, shocking him.

Major Kubs observes that young people can read but cannot comprehend; they are unable to handle simple adversities like sleeping in a tent or walking alone in the dark. The lack of traditional two-parent families, the replacement of outdoor play with smartphones, and the atrophy of risk-taking have produced men who are 'set up' rather than leaders. He cites the example of Finland where infants nap outside in freezing temperatures and entire societies retain a closeness to nature, building resilience from childhood.

He details the story of a female participant who, after three days of continuous rain, at 2 AM in a shelter, stripped completely naked, wrung out every piece of clothing, hung them to dry, arranged her boots for rapid exit, donned a dry polar fleece, and slept for three hours. She lost only 20 minutes. When the march resumed, she was functional. Half the men who had thrown themselves down in their wet Gore-Tex suits dropped out in the next three hours with severe fungal infections in the groin, chafed feet, and total body maceration. He also notes that women consistently perform better at sit-ups and can be superior at distance running. The key difference is psychological: women treat uncertainty as a puzzle, men as a threat.

He explains that the entire structure is engineered to break down the participant: from the initial gear calculation (every gram matters) through the deliberate unpredictability (no one knows when it ends) to the carefully timed deprivation (only hardtack for days, a slice of bread on day 4 feels like the greatest luxury). The participant is eventually brought to a point where he no longer cares about ego, only about the next step. At that moment, according to Major Kubs, the real person emerges. He receives emails for years afterward from people saying that the Selection was the place where they finally got to know themselves. He calls it the 'cherry on the cake' of his life's work.

Major Kubs points out that a 200-gram cup becomes a 2-kg burden after 50 km. He questions the wisdom of Gore-Tex boots and sleeping bags that cost 2000 zł but become useless once water breaches them. Instead, he suggests looking to Afghan fighters who used two pairs of simple canvas shoes; after a morning dew, the wet pair dries by 11 AM. He does not provide a gear list; participants must decide for themselves whether to bring a foam pad (heavy but warm) or aluminum foil (light but no comfort). This forces a strategic mindset from day one. He also notes that the first generations started with almost nothing and often acquired better gear from dropouts along the way.

He opens with the adage that wars are started by professionals but finished by reservists, underscoring Poland's need. However, he insists that any conscription must avoid the pitfalls of empty drills or landscaping. Instead, it should emulate Finland, where individual soldiers are trained in water filtration and nature survival from a young age. He admits that no political party will touch it in an election year, but sees it as the only way to rebuild collective male resilience and practical skills that have been lost, like the ability to simply walk long distances.