Oh God, to die now! Oh God ...
The aircraft depart. Six fifty-five, -six, -seven, -eight. Two more minutes. One more. The shelling continues.
Seven.
S-e-v-e-n. It is seven o’clock!
The shelling continues.
Maybe our watches are not accurate?
A few minutes of tense waiting. There is heavy fighting in Manzuva. We can clearly hear the machine guns.
The beautiful dream of the ceasefire is extinguished. Only now do we realize how deeply we had believed in it. No one speaks. The whole company is squatting on the ground, motionless. A feeling of profound desperation.
Every one of us is trying to come to terms with the situation, to be able to endure the next few days. You have to be tough. I c-a-n’-t... you - have - to - be - tough. Just a few days. In a few days everything will be over in any case.
"In a week we’ll all be finished," I mumble.
"Maybe we’ll just be wounded?" Jamus has discovered a ray of hope.
Being wounded - that is the great hope. It means hospital, a white bed ... you get away from the front honorably and don’t have to be ashamed in front of your comrades.
"With a bit of luck it might be only a leg wound," Jamus thinks aloud. "Below the knee. You lie in hospital for half a year. Most of them recover fully."
Our ideals have changed. Only half a year ago we prayed: let me never become a cripple! Better to die than to lose an arm or a leg. Today we are all prepared to lose arms, legs, eyes - as long as we stay alive.
"But maybe the Egyptians don’t know what you want and will shoot you in the belly or the balls?"
I try in my heart to curse the Egyptians. But in my imagination an Egyptian company appears - poor, reduced, and their remaining sol-diers are lying on the ground just like us here. They curse the war with the same words. For them it is even more difficult. Because they lack the feeling that they went to war to defend themselves. Without this feeling we would all have deserted long since.