who I am/what I do:

Jan Rexroth

civil engineer (diploma)

health and safety officer (SiFa)

health and safety coordinator (SiGeKo)

allrounder, ironman, proud father of two sons

construction- and project management, project supervision,

occupational safe and in order to that legal secure

occupational safety supervision of construction companies

When will we solve your problems?
fon +49 451 30 500 645 1

Wolfgang Borchert:

Then There’s Only One Thing To Do! (1947)
translated by Ryan Wilcox

You. Man at the machine and man in the workshop. If they order you
tomorrow to stop making water pipes and cook pots and start making
helmets and machine guns, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Girl behind the counter and girl at the office. If they order you
tomorrow to fill hand grenades and mount scopes on sniper rifles, then
there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Factory owner. If they order you tomorrow, to sell gun powder
instead of talcum powder and cocoa, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Researcher in the laboratory. If they order you tomorrow, to invent
a new death to do away with old life, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Poet in your room. If they order you tomorrow not to sing love
songs, but songs of hate, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Doctor at the sick bed. If they order you tomorrow to certify men
as fit for war, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Minister in the pulpit. If they order you tomorrow to bless murder
and praise war as holy, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Captain on the steamer. If they order you tomorrow not to
transport wheat but cannons and tanks, then there’s only one thing to
do:
Say NO!
You. Pilot at the airfield. If they order you tomorrow to carry bombs and
incendiaries over cities, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Tailor at your table. If they order you tomorrow to start sewing
uniforms, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Judge in your robe. If they order you tomorrow to report to the
military court, then there’s only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Man at the train station. If tomorrow they order you to give the
signal for the ammunition and the troop trains to depart, then there’s
only one thing to do:
Say NO!
You. Man in the village and man in the city. If they come for you
tomorrow and with your induction papers, then there’s only one thing to
do:
Say NO!
You. Mother in Normandy and mother in the Ukraine, you, mother in
Frisco and London, you, on the banks of the Huang Ho and the
Mississippi, you, mother in Nepal and Hamburg and Cairo and Oslo –
mothers in all regions on earth, mothers all over the world, if they order
you tomorrow to bear children – nurses for military hospitals and new
soldiers for new battles, mothers all over the world, then there’s only
one thing to do:
Say NO! Mothers, say NO!
Because if you don’t say NO, if YOU don’t say no, mothers, then;
then:
In the noisy port cities, hazy with steam, the large groaning ships will
grow silent, and like titanic, mammoth corpses, filled with water, they
will lethargically totter against the lifeless, lonely, algae-, seaweed-, and
shell-covered walls of the docks, the body that previously appeared so
gleaming and threatening now reaking like a foul fish cemetery, rotten,
sickly and dead –
the streetcars will be senselessly bent and dented like dull, glass-eyed
birdcages and lie like petals beside the confused, steel skeletons of the
wires and tracks, behind rotten sheds with holes in their roofs, in lost,
crater-strewn streets –
a mud-gray, heavy, leaden silence will roll in, voracious and growing in
size, will establish itself in the schools and universities and theaters, on
sport fields and children’s playgrounds, horrible and greedy and
unstoppable –
the sunny, juicy grapes will spoil on the neglected slopes, the rice will
dry up in the desolate earth, the potatoes will freeze in the plowed fields
and the cows will stretch their dead, rigid legs into the sky like upturned
milking stools –
in the institutions, the ingenious inventions of the great physicians will
become sour, rot, mold into fungus –
the last sacks of flour, the last jars of strawberries, the pumpkins and
the cherry juice will spoil in the kitchens, chambers and cellars, in the
cold storage lockers and storage areas – the bread under the upturned
tables and on splintered plates will become green and the melted butter
will smell like soft soap, the grain on the fields will have bent down to
the earth alongside rusty plows like a defeated army, and the smoking,
brick chimneys, the food and smokestacks of the stamping factories,
covered by eternal grass, will crumble, crumble, crumble –
then the last human being, clueless with slashed intestines and polluted
lungs, will wander alone under the poisonous, glowing sun and
vacillating constellations, wander lonely among immense mass graves
and cold idols of the gigantic, concrete-block, deserted cities, the last
human being, scrawny, mad, blasphemous, complaining – and his
terrible complaint: WHY? will trickle away unheard into the steppe, waft
through the burst ruins and die out in the rubble of churches, slap
against impenetrable bunkers, fall into pools of blood, unheard,
answerless, the last animal-like cry of the last animal human being –
all of this will come about, tomorrow, tomorrow perhaps, perhaps
already tonight, if – if – if – you don’t
say NO.
Source:
https://rickrozoff.wordpress.com/2012/02/02/wolfgang-borchert-only-one-thing-todo-
say-no/