Die Geschichte von Anton Barsch
The story of Anton Barsch
Kapitel 8 | Chapter 8
Shock State / Frozen
Wir waren noch immer unterwegs und inzwischen wurde es heller. Bald konnte ich die ersten Sonnenstrahlen erkennen.
Der Tag hätte so schön werden können. Die Vorräte an Wasser gingen zügig dahin. Vater hatte daher vorgeschlagen in der nächsten Stadt anzuhalten oder lieber im nächsten Ort um etwas Wasser und vielleicht noch Brot zu kaufen. Zwar hatten wir nur wenig Geld, aber für Brot und Wasser würde es geradeso reichen.
Da kamen wir am Ortsschild an und darauf stand <Name einfügen>.
Die Straße war leer und es roch nach Rauch aus der Ferne. Da, ein Schuss und auf einmal tauchten vier bewaffnete Männer aus den Büschen um uns herum auf. Einer von ihnen hatte eine provisorische, selbst gemachte Uniform die wie eine Offiziersuniform aussah. Alle schauten erschrocken auf die Waffen und die mit Dreck beschmierten Männer. Dann fing der „Offizier“ an zu sprechen:
„Wo kommt ihr her und wo wollt ihr hin? Und wer seid ihr?“
Vater schaute etwas geschockt und ängstlich aus. Offenbar kannte er diesen Mann. Plötzlich blickten sich der Offizier und Vater direkt in die Augen. Die Augen des Offiziers funkelten.
„Also wer seid ihr!?“
„Wir sind bloß ein paar Dörfler die Zuflucht und Nahrung suchen. Wir kommen aus Lichtenwald.“, sagte Theo.
Den Offizier rüttelte es und er schien hell wach zu sein. Dann nannte er uns seinen Namen, also den Nachnamen:
„Mein Name ist Leutnant Bäumler und das hier sind ein paar Männer aus diesem Dorf, die sich meinem Trupp angeschlossen haben. Der Krieg wird wohl hoffentlich bald enden, aber es sind trotzdem schon viele einfach abgehauen.“
Er sah sehr angespannt zu meinem Vater hin und wollte das er vom Wagen absteigt.
„Herr Barsch, sie sind es doch, oder nicht?“
„J … ja.“, stotterte Vater.
„Ich sollte sie erschießen oder hängen lassen, weil sie einer von diesen Deserteuren sind! Aber ich bin selber nicht mehr ganz für den Krieg und daher kommen sie nochmal so davon und andererseits kenne ich ja unseren Kommandanten, der ihr Freund gewesen ist. Sicher ist er unserer Meinung. Gut, ihr könnt weiter, doch passt besser auf, nicht alle sind so wie wir!“
Damit verabschiedeten wir uns und Vater viel fast um vor Angst und Schweiß lief ihm die Stirn herunter.
Wir alle hier waren froh das Herr Bäumler gnädig gewesen ist.
Besonders ich und Mutter, denn wofür wäre Vater dann abgehauen, um dann doch zu sterben. Denn alle Deserteure begehen Fahnenflucht und damit sind sie Verräter.
Die Erwachsenen haben doch alle bloß Geld und Macht im Sinn, zumindest die, die sowieso schon wohlhabend sind.
Aber jetzt ab zum Dorf, denn der Hunger und der Durst wurden immer stärker. Und wenn man arm ist und nichts besitzt legt man mehr Wert auf das wirklich wichtige zum Leben, nämlich Nahrung, Gemeinschaft und Gemeinschaft mit Gott zu haben.
Denn er gibt uns alles was wir brauchen.
In der Mitte des Dorfs war ein kleiner Laden und eine freundliche alte Dame stand vor der Hütte und putzte die Fenster. Sonst machte das Dorf einen eher trostlosen Eindruck, aber nicht wegen Soldaten die durch die Dörfer streifen, sondern wegen Banditen die im Krieg oder durch den Krieg eine Chance bekamen leichter Leute auszurauben und doch „unerkannt“ zu bleiben. Denn wer wird schon groß in der Nähe des Kriegs nach Kleinkriminellen suchen. Wie gesagt, Krieg ist nur zerstörend und der blanke Tod, auch wenn man so scheinbar Streitigkeiten zwischen Ländern um Besitz und Ziele klärt.
Tut mir leid ich schweife mal wieder ein bisschen ab, also Theo fragte die alte Frau nach Brot und Wasser.
Daraufhin bat sie uns in ihren Laden, doch da wir so viele waren blieben die meisten vor dem Laden. Nur Vater, Theo, ich und Mama gingen rein und die anderen unterhielten sich mit einem Bauern der gerade mit seinem Ochsen die Straße entlang kam.
(Dorf wird auch „mitgenommen“ und dann Demonstration)
[Fortsetzung folgt niemals]
Seiten: 25 – 27 | Kapitel 8
We were still on the road and in the meantime it was getting brighter. Soon I could see the first sunrays.
The day could have been so beautiful. The supplies of water went quickly. Father had therefore suggested stopping in the next town or rather in the next village to buy some water and perhaps some bread. We had little money, but for bread and water it would just about be enough.
Then we arrived at the place-name sign and it said <insert name>.
The street was empty and it smelled of smoke from far away. There, one shot and suddenly four armed men appeared from the bushes around us. One of them had a temporary homemade uniform that looked like an officer’s uniform. Everyone looked startled at the weapons and the men covered in dirt. Then the “officer” began to speak:
“Where do you come from and where are you going? And who are you?”
Father looked somewhat shocked and frightened. Apparently he knew this man. Suddenly the officer and father looked each other straight in the eyes. The eyes of the officer sparkled.
“So who are you!?”
“We are just a few villagers looking for shelter and food. We come from Lichtenwald”, said Theo.
The officer shook and he seemed to be wide awake. Then he told us his name, his surname:
“My name is Lieutenant Bäumler and these are a few men from this village who have joined my troop. The war will hopefully end soon, but there are still many who have simply left.
He looked very tense at my father and wanted him to get off the wagon.
“Mr. Barsch, it is you, isn’t it?”
“Y… yes.” Father stuttered.
“I should shoot you or hang you for being one of those deserters! But I’m not really all for war myself any more and so you get away with it again and on the other hand I know our commander, who was your friend. Surely he is of our opinion. Well, you can go on, but you better watch out, not everyone is like us!
With that we said goodbye to each other and father, almost in fear and sweat ran down his forehead.
All of us here were glad that Mr. Bäumler was merciful.
Especially me and mother, because what would father have run away for, only to die. Because all deserters are deserters and therefore they are traitors.
The adults are all only interested in money and power, at least those who are already wealthy anyway.
But now let’s go to the village, because hunger and thirst are getting stronger and stronger. And when you are poor and have nothing, you put more emphasis on what is really important in life, namely having food, fellowship and fellowship with God.
Because he gives us everything we need.
In the middle of the village there was a small shop and a friendly old lady stood in front of the hut and cleaned the windows. Otherwise the village made a rather desolate impression, but not because of soldiers roaming the villages, but because of bandits who got a chance in or through the war to rob people more easily and yet remain “unrecognised”. Because who will look for petty criminals in the vicinity of the war. As said before, war is only destructive and the sheer death, even if it seems to settle disputes between countries about property and goals.
I’m sorry, I’m digressing a bit again, so Theo asked the old woman for bread and water.
Then she invited us to her shop, but as there were so many of us, most of us stayed in front of the shop. Only father, Theo, me and mum went inside and the others talked to a farmer who was coming down the road with his ox.
(Village is also “taken” and then demonstration)
[TO BE NEVER CONTINUED]
Pages: 25 – 27 | Chapter 8
And well… I probably stopped there because I then actually realized, that a demonstration is pointless, especially in the midst of a war. So I never continued. I also probably realized, that there was no hope for a better future, at least when people always expect others to give it to them. They have to do it themselves.
And Anton in this story, was a little naive and also thought, that things are a lot brighter. But even he was a little down sometimes. What Anton meant with “God”, was love. But Anton didn’t know what love meant or what all these words in general were about. He just knew, what he felt and so he believed in this feeling. No matter what others said.
Sadly I myself, the author, had problems with that, a lot of problems. And I also didn’t really thought that I could write a way out of my misery, so I probably stopped. And also maybe because instead I was playing games with online friends and started programming. So I went away from this life more and more. Not because of programming or the online friends and games and all. It was because I thought, that this was it and all I would get. And that in the real world around me, I would never feel safe, happy and understood. So it was an escape and made me feel safe, happy and understood. Or at least I could still do things I wanted in a way.
Writing in a way helped me before and still sometimes after secondary school because I never really completely stopped writing down thoughts. But after secondary school it got less and less. And sometimes even depressed me even more, than simply sitting around and wasting away.
Only last year writing made me feel alive again or at least gave me something. And made me believe in hope again, in this love I had abandoned for some time.
I was always an optimist, a happy one, but inside it screamed and my heart was tortured like my mind. I was simply dying…
And the reason was, that I was too bright, but not in a way it was wanted. Not neon light, not white light, but star light.
And yes, the title of the last chapter “shock state” (or frozen, what I set as alternative now), really hits it on the spot. You could also say “Shock Rigidity” or something like that.
Because that is how I usually felt with other people during my life. And how probably many others feel. You just don’t know what you can say, what they want to hear and what you still want to share or say to them. Because you seem to always get hurt, always be wrong and so what is the point, I thought. And cold I got…. colder than I ever thought I would be able to get. So yeah, let yourself be warned, especially when you are a warm, empathic, highly sensitive one. Because I am and was all that. I often shift between shades, moods and “personalities” of myself. But more and more I get there again. As a child it was different and more easy to simply feel and be and understand others. It was hard to find back to it, after losing it all, after I gave up or in or whatever.
When an empathic, highly-sensitive, intelligent child (or whatever I am or was) wants to jump in front of cars, trains and from bridges. When it wants to torture, kill (and such things) other people or just throw them in front of a train. When such a child wants to burn the whole world down and thought about running around in a school with a gun, but didn’t do that, because it wanted to protect the others…. then you know in what kind of world we live. And yes, you know (or when you read my other posts) that I also couldn’t always keep everything inside and did harm some people. And if it was just for leaving them behind, ignoring them and that….
I first had to die to find back again. Because this is what happens to people like me, when they get ignored and whenever they try to fight, they get beaten down. I tried to fight my bully, fight for my right to do what I want and many other times and things. But it was always said to be wrong, while on the other hand it was said, that I should fight for my dreams. It made no sense, it did hurt and break me together with everything else.
But when even I can get out of that spiral (in some way), then there is hope. Although I am still not really safe, but my hands sometimes even got red again. And some of you might know, what I said about red skin. 😀
Just be kind and I am sorry that you have to go through what I write about myself. I mean, maybe some of you did worse things or simply understand and have love like I have. But it is still painful and I am sorry that it is the way it is. From another point, otherwise I wouldn’t be here anymore to tell you about it. And maybe otherwise, there would never be the necessary change in this world. No bright future. Because when I see what happens, it only gets darker and darker, while colors get presented and held up high. But inside the hearts is an empty void of bitterness.
I might still not survive, either because I die because of a heart attack or some sickness. Or because there might be a day, when I won’t be able to take it anymore. Or someone really wants to see me dead. I don’t know. But I wish, that things could really be good one day. At least for us who just want to live and are sick of these wars, rules, works and fear, pressure and oppression. And if you know me now, you know, that I am beyond things. So you can’t scare me with death, especially death. You can’t scare me with torture because I went through it my whole life. Either psychologically or sometimes even physically. If someone really wants that, then I don’t know whether they know who I am or what they are dealing with. But when it comes to me, then …
(with a few corrections here and there)
Yes, I am guilty, I used a translator even for my own works. It is just, I am not too motivated to translate everything on my own, while knowing that this thing actually is better than me. I never really was good with words and especially using intelligent and creative words in english.
People: look through the blog and are confused
Eh … yea…. I don’t know…