we against us.
What must Munch have felt? Or Kubin? Or van Gogh? Fear drifts into other spheres. From tiny to gigantic. Even Goya’s GIANT was scared.
Turning around terrified. What’s behind me? Horrifying. Thousands of tiny blood cells seem to consist of nothing but them, sly. That which makes you plead as you perish... But for nothing in this world will you get that fucking mercy. Nothing and nobody takes pity on you when fear sloshes through you, unoiled and screeching. One can only be merciful to oneself. And worst of all, “we all infect each other”. Then the attempt to pretend to be immune. Only one thing can stand against it – art.
Dec. 5, 1993 (diary note)
31 years old, army captain, married, 1 daughter
Excerpt from the book:
Foxtrot 4: Six months with German soldiers in Afghanistan.
Dominic Schellenberger: “This feeling when I see the boys – almost 200 of them – standing there, highly motivated, with determined expressions, having fun, that is the currency paid back to me for my own commitment . ... Because of the closeness to my profession, Psalm 91, written by King David, which begins: “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High and rests in the shadow of the Almighty says to the Lord, ‘You are my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.’”
Getting everyone home safely ... there is no such thing as one hundred percent certainty. The leaders know that, and the soldiers know that. ... Last week’s news: attacks on German soldiers. ...
What does it trigger in them?
Dominic Schellenberger: It makes me think. Several of my comrades have unfortunately been killed, all because of IED attacks. Personally, the attacks don’t scare me.”