"Look at the moon sergeant, i have never seen it move so fast" I gasped with a fake excitement.
"You are right soldier! That is so strange!" he replies. And then he sat down on a wooden log clutching his face and gazing upwards.
The moon was covered by clouds. It was windy and the clouds moved really fast, creating a fake placebo effect that the moon was moving in great speed. That summed up the intelligence of our commanding officer for the night. A brain straight from a herbivore dinosaur, the looks of a cave troll and the manners of a pig.
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| To be or not to be? You take no candle? |
Moments ago he told me to shave better or he will report me, to clean my boots and all the bird crap from the entrance of the hallway because the next day the General would arrive to inspect, the same thing was said for the past week. He never came.
The breeze was sending chills in my spine through the light fabric and the joke of a shirt they provided to us. My zippers did not work from day one, but the response from them was "i don't care maggot". I will never forget his face, his shape and the way he talked. He was the size of a tanker with 4 layers of fat overlapping his belly. I bet he could not even see his legs or his dick. I will never forget the way he munched on that sandwich when all we had that day was processed dead meat from the 70's, black as the plague and ready to come alive and conjure you like the symbiote from spider-man.
The days were not passing fast. I still had 79 days to be released and i wanted to go in bed and cry in every opportunity. I was heartbroken and alone. The first week i was told that first they will break my spirit and then my body. And so it happened. But i would not give them the satisfaction. I would never buckle to that baboon, or that other goblin faced stuttering gorilla in the telephone center. Not to the captain of the battalion that only knew how to shout, punish and crush us like ants with his well shined boots. And then lick the balls of the higher officers in every attempt, because he was young and he could advance faster up the ranks.
That summed up my day. Drenched in sweat and smell, with sticky hands and clothes not washed in 2 months I sat there looking at him gazing, oblivious and calm. There was no washing machine. Home was supposed to be 30 minutes away, but she chose instead to break my heart and love my dog with someone else. My real home was 1000 km away. I had no friends, only a hundred strangers i barely knew and shrouded them with lies and false identities.
I woke up the next day knowing it would be a tough one. I had nightmares. The screams and laughter of a person you used to love, looking down on you from above and raining death and sorrow. And the endless snoring of the 3 other soldiers in the room echoed in my ears like a shrieking banshee, draining my endurance with every cry.
"Dress up right now you dirty faggots. You have 3 minutes to shave and 10 minutes to eat".
The insults did not affect me anymore. I was immune years ago from my home. The brutality and the psychological warfare affected most of the people. They say that under extreme stress and conditions you can see who the real person hides between that smokescreen we have. The same happens with alcohol.
My body was broken though. The boots weighted a ton and every step was a painful step towards torture, like dragging a huge concrete ball chained to your ankle. The broken belt buckle did not help to hold your pants in place as I had lost 8 kilos in the past 3 months from grief and pain. The shirt was 2 sizes bigger and limited my every movement. My legs felt like glass, ready to break up in any minute. I still carry the effects of all these in my life even now. Battle scars that will never heal.
I managed to drag my lifeless body, like a zombie in the breakfast restaurant. Bread and cheese. And then a chocolate milk to quench my thirst for a few hours as i headed in the telephone center. Before even entering i was handed a broom and a machete.
"Do not even consider coming back in if you do not clean every pine needle, leaf or dirt from the entrance and cut the grass and the trees in the back of the house." the cruel taskmaster said.
I harnessed every last drop of strength i could muster and started chopping down trees, hitting them with brute force and the fury and anger of a thousand generations. In every swing i saw my target as the people i hated the most, unleashing years of pain and suffering. I could see their faces and with every swing they laughed at me. They disappeared until the next swing, like a shadowy doppelganger.
I finished and entered the phone center. The goblin faced Gollum shows up and looks me from top to bottom. Sweating and black from the mud and resins.
"2 days in prison for looking like this" he says without the slightest hesitation.
I do not talk. I just look. With a devilish look right in the soul of a man consumed by fear and duty. I saw beyond his mask and saw an afraid little goblin that could not tie his own shoe-lashes let alone give a convincing order to a soldier.
"Yes sir. I will clean the bathroom and your office now and bring your coffee and pie" i replied. That day i spat on his coffee.
When it was time to sleep at 23:00 i lied on my bed with my blanket from 1976 and i looked around. People snoring like the end was coming or possessed by the devil. A guy that his blanket smelled like liquid death. Another lazy sneaky bastard with feet that probably caused ebola. And another one that was living for 2 months with fleas under his bed and washed every month once and played with his dick in the third toilet in the left.
"You will never understand what i am going through" i told her in one of our last meetings.
"I will not" she said.
Goodnight Sweden.
I woke up the next day knowing it would be a tough one. I had nightmares. The screams and laughter of a person you used to love, looking down on you from above and raining death and sorrow. And the endless snoring of the 3 other soldiers in the room echoed in my ears like a shrieking banshee, draining my endurance with every cry.
"Dress up right now you dirty faggots. You have 3 minutes to shave and 10 minutes to eat".
The insults did not affect me anymore. I was immune years ago from my home. The brutality and the psychological warfare affected most of the people. They say that under extreme stress and conditions you can see who the real person hides between that smokescreen we have. The same happens with alcohol.
My body was broken though. The boots weighted a ton and every step was a painful step towards torture, like dragging a huge concrete ball chained to your ankle. The broken belt buckle did not help to hold your pants in place as I had lost 8 kilos in the past 3 months from grief and pain. The shirt was 2 sizes bigger and limited my every movement. My legs felt like glass, ready to break up in any minute. I still carry the effects of all these in my life even now. Battle scars that will never heal.
I managed to drag my lifeless body, like a zombie in the breakfast restaurant. Bread and cheese. And then a chocolate milk to quench my thirst for a few hours as i headed in the telephone center. Before even entering i was handed a broom and a machete.
"Do not even consider coming back in if you do not clean every pine needle, leaf or dirt from the entrance and cut the grass and the trees in the back of the house." the cruel taskmaster said.
I harnessed every last drop of strength i could muster and started chopping down trees, hitting them with brute force and the fury and anger of a thousand generations. In every swing i saw my target as the people i hated the most, unleashing years of pain and suffering. I could see their faces and with every swing they laughed at me. They disappeared until the next swing, like a shadowy doppelganger.
I finished and entered the phone center. The goblin faced Gollum shows up and looks me from top to bottom. Sweating and black from the mud and resins.
"2 days in prison for looking like this" he says without the slightest hesitation.
I do not talk. I just look. With a devilish look right in the soul of a man consumed by fear and duty. I saw beyond his mask and saw an afraid little goblin that could not tie his own shoe-lashes let alone give a convincing order to a soldier.
"Yes sir. I will clean the bathroom and your office now and bring your coffee and pie" i replied. That day i spat on his coffee.
When it was time to sleep at 23:00 i lied on my bed with my blanket from 1976 and i looked around. People snoring like the end was coming or possessed by the devil. A guy that his blanket smelled like liquid death. Another lazy sneaky bastard with feet that probably caused ebola. And another one that was living for 2 months with fleas under his bed and washed every month once and played with his dick in the third toilet in the left.
"You will never understand what i am going through" i told her in one of our last meetings.
"I will not" she said.
Goodnight Sweden.
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| How i miss you.. |
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