The photographer Stanislav Kröber and I decided to join the Syrian refugees, attempting to cross the sea from Egypt to Italy. We entrusted our fate to smugglers who didn't know we were journalists. They beat us with sticks, just like the others, and told us to walk quickly so no one would notice our group. They would never allow journalists on such journeys, lest something leak to the security services. The most dangerous thing that could have happened to us on this trip was for them to discover our true identities. Only Ammar and his family knew who we really were. Ammar is an old friend I met while covering the Syrian civil war. Desperation was the only thing that drove him to endure the hardships of this journey, fueled by his dream of living in Germany. Ammar acted as our translator during the trip. The photographer and I grew beards and used pseudonyms. During that trip, I assumed the identity of Mr. "Vargi," while he was the English teacher, Mr. "Servat." We both identified ourselves as refugees from one of the republics of the Caucasus.