St. James Way

31st Hiking Day

On the way from Aroue to Ostabat. Feet alright. Yesterday night there was another orchestra of three snorers. But that's okay. It just pisses me off that I didn't follow my own nose this morning and just wandered in my own speed. Instead, I stood outside the gîte waiting for the others for 20 minutes and then I went off on my own anyway. It's only 20 minutes, I'm aware of that. But I'm just angry about the negative spiral that started with the waiting part. Do your own thing and everyone, especially you, will be much happier. Now I am writing here with a laughable pen that keeps slipping in my hand just because Paul gave my pen away to a little girl yesterday. What an old sack! Now I fumble with this filigree shit pen. Well, 24,5 km ahead of me. Will do somehow and something will work out.

I just have to think of Bußmann. What is my old comrade doing now? I still remember the one incident where he had understood - at least for a brief moment - that our teasing didn't matter and when he was so terribly friendly. He locked us out completely. I wanted to apologize to him and almost did it. He was my dearest comrade, the way he always casually smoked his cigarettes in the corner of his mouth. Bußmann, Doyen, Döring, Bender, Drescher, Büning, Ahlbeck, Conan, Friedrich, Buck, Detzel. Unfortunately, I can't think of any more names. But what are they all doing now? There were also some who came from the most remote corners of Bavaria. Oh yes, and of course the two Erdmanns. The one big and funny, the other from the Müritz lake district. Oh yes, and Faude. That was in Plön before we were deployed to Bavaria. 1st platoon, 76er, marine security service. Then of course there was the death of Alexander Berg. Absolutely irresponsible behaviour of the superiors. At the latest when we were crying our eyes out while carrying an injured soldier, somebody should have put an end to this. I also remember that we weren't allowed to drink water. At least not in the beginning. When we carried the stretcher I don't remember exactly. "Remember Berg". My first resistance written on the toilet wall in pen. How the guessing started among the platoon. And how careful I was to keep the risk low. I kept my mouth shut. I was very proud of my amazement. How funny life can be.