As the months went by and the confrontation that he feared came closer, the strain began to tell on Lech Walesa. His face turned puffy, he smoked as many as two packages of cigarettes daily (often Dunhills given him by newsmen), he developed a chronic, hacking cough and began to suffer from migraine headaches. He was seldom alone, seldom out of reach of someone who had a problem to solve. One night he was awakened by a person whose car had broken down. He read (in translation, if necessary) every letter addressed to him...
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