My father operated an excavator, in the mines. He built the house I still live in. He had four children and was given support by the state, by Adolf Hitler, for having so many children. My father himself never returned from the war, from Poland, no one knows how or where. Of my three brothers, one was in the air force and was shot down. My fat brother later became a workers’ writer, in Berlin. He wrote for the farmers’ newspaper and television and was a true believer. Socialism and such. The third became a schoolteacher, and I'm the only one who stayed here and became a miner. And suddenly the word was: Off to the army! To do “honorable service.”

In the mornings, we weren't allowed to go straight down to the coalface but had to go to the “recruiting commission.” That went on until we had signed. So you weren't worthy of hacking coal if you hadn't gone to the army. That was how they put it. And somehow, don't ask me how, they managed to convince us.

The rip-off was this: I wanted to be a driver and I was sent to the artillery. Also, I was into competitive sports. They said: “You can go on with your training.” So there I was with my paddle and sandy wilderness as far as the eye could see.

That's when I said: “I'm not swearing another oath.” That was in ’55, when the “Riot Police” became the “National People's Army.” I was discharged as an ordinary soldier. I always was a little out of step. That's why I was never promoted.

I lost my job as well. They only wanted to take people back who had been “discharged with distinction,” not failures like me.

I found another position in the power plant near here. As a driver, actually. They said: “We need people to repair the power lines.” After I had signed on, it turned out that they didn't have enough vehicles. But they said: “Why don't you stay here and become a boilerman.” The boilers we stoked were from 1914, but every kilowatt hour was needed.