The plan to avoid joining the combat group did not work, of course. The combine management even had its own hundred-man squad with everything from three personnel carriers to a goulash cannon.
Equipment and armament were similar to those of an armored infantry company in the NVA. I had come from the frying pan into the fire. The new party secretary agitated me with the following words: ‘Whoever bears responsibility in the training and education of our future leadership elite must also set a good example in the defense readiness of our socialist achievements!’
In my situation, what was I to counter this line of argument? A few days later, I was assigned a locker in the squad basement and given a uniform. After that I received everything, a soldier has to carry around senselessly: steel helmet, boots, assault pack, field spade, gas mask, ‘Natoplane’ (nickname for a cape that was supposed to protect against radioactive radiation), eating utensils, canteen, cooking utensils and so on.
From now on I belonged to the second group in the second platoon as an MP gunner. I received my personal weapon for safety reasons only at the next military weekend training, which was to be followed by many, many more. Sylvie and I were slugging it out. We both earned quite a bit, and the music brought in additional money.
I had the alimony for my children deducted directly from my salary by standing order, so this item never appeared in our budget. In the beginning, everything was going well. After a year, we married modestly. The only guests at lunch in Hotel Deutschland were Sylvie’s mother and her boss. On the same day, at Sylvia’s urgent request, but against my will, we set off on our honeymoon trip to Hungary.
The trip lasted almost three days in the Trabant and was more like an expedition. In our situation we could have used the travel money for more important things. That was only the beginning of Sylvia’s careless handling of money and in this case still a forgivable one.
A short time later she visited a friend from the common mannequin time. When she came home, she presented me with a mountain of clothes of the latest fashion. Of course, the clothes were not a gift and cost a modest 200 marks. A year later our daughter Jacqueline was born, so she couldn’t even use the clothes. Jacky was a dream child and Sylvia was a good mother.
But no sooner had the child outgrown the tenderest baby age than she had to go to the nursery. I didn’t have to try to find a place in one of the coveted nurseries at that time; the caring mother had already taken care of that behind my back without my knowledge. I had experienced something similar before, but it was only for a few hours in the kindergarten.
Now I had to drive the little one early on Mondays to the daycare center miles away and pick her up again a week later. I realized too late that I had married a woman who felt called to higher things. By pure chance we met Jürgen in town, the seminar speaker from the former 11/63.
Since there was a lot to talk about, he spontaneously invited us to his apartment for a chat. We accepted the invitation, and this evening was to open my eyes for good. Jürgen told us without any arrogance that he had earned a doctorate after his studies and that he also worked as a city guide from time to time.
Of course, the doctorate on his name tag could not be overlooked. Back home, Sylvia unexpectedly fell upon me angrily with insulting reproaches because the doctorate was missing on our name tag. In her envious remarks the word ‘loser’ appeared very often. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭…
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