Vrh nad Peski

I was in that area before, last year, and that evening Ž called the rescuers because I hadn’t come home before evening. This year I told him that I would be home in the evening, for sure not before, and I also sent him a few messages during my walks on the paths where some of the fiercest battles during the I. World War took place.

Under the mountain called Vrh nad Peski (a rough translation of this name would be The Peak above the Sands) huts for the soldiers were built, and the remnants of the wood could still be seen although it is mostly buried under the sand and rocks. Pieces of shells lie everywhere as well as empty cans and other, sometimes not recognizable objects. On the path under the peak of my final destination were also a few bullets. Some still whole, some smashed.

On the other side of the mountain used to be a huge graveyard; most bodies were later exhumed and buried in the valley. On my path I could also see numerous human bones. People carry these things home, therefore I was lucky to find some bullets at all; I don’t dare to pick one stone and take it home, yet anything made by human. Let those things lie there; I believe that’s where they belong. After all, they are covered with human blood.

To me the whole area looked like a mockery of nature, because alpine flowers were growing everywhere. There was at least one for every soldier who had had to be there involuntarly and at least ten of them for every soldier who had died on those steep slopes.

I hope to return to those places. Although it is not very pleasant to see all those remnants of the war, it is very beautiful there. And the view is magnificent, too; I could see all the way to the sea. Or one would brag: I could see all the way to Venice. Well, perhaps that city was Venice which I could see through my binoculars; who knows?