My grandfather had to make a choice during WWII : to join fascist or communist.Although we were always somewhat nationalist and traditional family,he joined communists,because they had moral codes.They weren’t stealing or killing for fun.
After the war,he worked as doorkeeper in one company.General menager was stealing,he couldn’t say anything,police found it out and guess who ended up in prison ?
He never spoke about time he spent in the prison.All that we know that after that,he never allowed to anyone to shout “Silence!”,no matter what.It would enrage him completely.
He spent his best years on faraway battlefields and in prison,while his family was starving.
My father was a guy with many dreams and few possibilities.He was the oldest son and that trained him to be responsible,but I really think that ,by some weird luck,he got all lung diseases known to manking at some points in his life.He was strong,pulled though everything and lived a long life,but he speant his best years in the hospitalsHe was a great inventor.He made many machines for the company he worked for,but in those days you would only get bronze medals for such things.Not big bucks,like these days..At least I’m happy that in the end he was very proud of my brother and me,because all those “smash the enemy and carry the flag” myths were very important to him.
I spent my best years in the tranches.There is no glory in war.When I look now at poems I wrote than,in almost all of then there is a word “cold”.Because that’s war in reality: you are holding some piece of muddy hill,while you’re freezing to the bone.That’s 90% of war.5% is coming to the battlefield and leaving (while you carry on your back 50 kg of gear) and remaining 5% is being cannon fodder.At least it was for me.It is hard to even imagine how heavily beaten I was with artillery throughout the whole war.
And it left consenquences.I don’t have PTPS,but I’m unable to respect any authority,obey orders I disagree with or tolerate someone who shows the slightest disrespect towards me.My biggest sin is my pride.I already paid for it dearly,lost everything and I honestly think that my damn pride will finally burry me.But I can’t help it.
So I made this blog,to let my son and people who love me know,that I wasn’t just an ordinary arsehole.I was a special person,simply born on a wrong place,in the wrong time.
Just like my father.
Just like my grandfather.
I think my family ended up in this country because some of ancestors got a piece of land here,as reward after showing heroism in some long forgotten war.
Yep,we won all the battles,we lost all the wars.
Tough luck,ay ?