Swiatkiewiez

8e Régiment d'Infanterie, Noyon, France 1981.

Swiatkiewiez

Swiatkiewiez was the greatest guy in our platoon. He could be your best friend -that included the rare quality of seemingly limitless generosity- and at night, after downing a couple of drinks together, he would clap you on the back with laughter or tears depending on what dramas had occurred in our life as conscripted soldiers. But, when he got up in the early morning, Swiatkiewiez was capable of punching you in the face for no good reason. His knuckles would then turn as white as his inner ire was black. Not until he had had his first cup of coffee could anyone go near him. But then, after those first sips of his black fuel, he would once again become your best friend for the next 24 hours. In times of war, I wouldn’t have placed my bet on any attacking enemy at dawn, before Swiatkiewiez’s coffee.