Tonight, my roommates and a few friends of mine made a bonfire in the grill outside of Europahaus. It was a perfectly snowy night, and we had quite a time getting it lit. WHOOSH! Some hairspray and leftover grill igniter fluid did the trick. Almost burned all of our Handschuhe as we draped them over the fire to dry. Soon we were rummaging around for sticks and cardboard until we had a semi-decent fire going, and my roommate Peter started to tell us a story.
Peter has been in the Bundeswehr (West German military) as a paratrooper. We had all been a bit curious, but too cautious to ask about his time there. Tonight, he decided to share. He began by describing how, as a young man fresh out of the German equivalent of high school, he wanted to do more with life that continue to study. He wanted to live, he stressed to us. He didn't know better than to fight for his country. So he signed up, and left his home, and his long-time girlfriend, for training. His days were spent conducting intense physical drills, and most of all, learning how to fall. When you are a paratrooper, you must jump from a plane at very low altitude, with not much time to spare. Falling hurts, even after you've been trained. He spent all day learning to roll and duck, and try not to break any bones.
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