(no subject)
Time for another LJ-entry!
Last week was fairly eventless. I did become sick (or rather, call in sick) for the first time in my nearly-two-month-long army career. A proud 39.1 degrees (that's celcius, yeah?) fever. Thought it might be a good idea not to go about running -too- much. Although there really wasn't much running happening all last week, it was pretty eventless really. Except perhaps for the whole football thing : just another short essay on army-mentality and its values.
Alright, basically...on Thursday, we had a wee "football tournament". This wasn't a civilian happening, but quite military indeed. We were divided into eight teams, who played eachother in turn : the winning team would stay on the field, and only two teams could play at the same time. If you lost, you were sent to the sideline. In the sideline...in the sideline, they had pointless-nazi-muscle-conditioning. You know, things like "now we're all putting our legs up, with our hands on our knees, for 10 minutes!". And once that was done, we'd do it again. And if someone couldn't take it, the timer would just have to revert to the beginning to make sure everyone does it properly! ..well, maybe not quite that bad, but basically the kind of exercises no professional trainer would ever, ever, ever recommend to his (or her) charges. So, the moral of it was : WIN your games, and you don't have to do all of these fucked-up nazi exercises. LOOSE, and you're running around like an insane guy, or getting your back broken in wrestling or whatever.
Luckily, we got all the way to the finals (which we lost), so our team didn't have to do any of the nazi exercises. Oh...and what did the winners win? Three resounding "Hurraah"s! That whole day saw a noble sport such as football being turned into a pointless, somewhat cruel exercise in army indoctrination. I so hate this place.
And on Saturday, we became official Jaegers (Jääkäreitä, Jägare). There was a ceremony, where we marched up and down the square and then didn't sing a song we were supposed to sing and then took the whole oath thing. Well...at least I am no longer a recruit. But now I do also know I'm not staying here for neither 270 days nor 362. It's 180 days for me, baaaby!
But...my great fear.
We've had, as I've mentioned, a nazi platoon-instructor. This man scares everyone, including me. I'm not the least bit afraid of any of the other clowns in this asylum, except this one. For he has the full, legal authority, given to him by the lawfully elected representatives of our fair country, to turn the next four months of my life into literal, back-breaking hell. He is in charge of the "Light Grenadier" platoon (Lätta Granatkastarna, Kevyt Kranaatinheitinjoukkue), and he almost always picks people from the platoon he instructed to its ranks. Now, these guys carry around grenadelaunchers (think mortars) that weigh up to 40 kg. The Finnish army has such a mentality, that all things should be carried, if it's physically possible at all to do so. Which means people regularily carry around things that are ridiculously heavy. I get quite tired just marching 15 km in my normal gear ; with another 40 kg strapped to my back, I probably couldn't make three meters before I die. And, of course, since he's a nazi, he'd have us carry those things on a 30 km march...half of which is conducted in full ABC-protection gear. -_- Since, as I've also mentioned, he's a gas-mask freak. I think he's unconsciously afraid all of those people his ideological forebears gassed to death will come back for revenge some day...*twitch*
And it's not only that. We'd keep our old belt-thingee, while everyone else gets a nice new nifty kewl kevlar vest; we'd just get a flak-jacket which weighs alot and is practically useless against anything but a few rocks flying about. And, everyone else moves house ; the light grenadiers stay in the exact same place. The fact that I have to stay another 4 months might have been aided by some change...new, fancy gear, a new place to stay, new people to meet...I could've spent a month getting used to the new stuff, and another month to get used to the new people. At which point the whole charade would nearly be over!
But now...I will be stuck with the SAME people, the SAME gear, in the SAME place. And every single day will be a day when Lt.W tortures us. See...half the people he chooses are strong, able peeps, the kind that are needed for the ardous tasks of the Light Grenadiers. The other half are weaklings and sicklings, whom he can grind to dust beneath his boots. Of the last bunch that went through the grinder, a fourth went with civil service, a fourth became B-men (=got some serious injury which made it impossible for them to continue in active A-man service), a fourth simply called in sick almost every single day, and the remaining small bunch actually stayed in-line. So I hear, at least.
Harumm. I am actually just putting down my worst fears on paper (uhm, computer). I mean...it might all be rumours, he might just be very tough, but not unrealistically so. I might get a position that doesn't involve carrying heavy stuff. Hell : I might not even necessarily join his platoon! I might be assigned somewhere completely different!
Then again, all my fears might be realised, with interest. In which case I will seriously have to consider my future army career. I will not live the rest of my life as a cripple because some nazi lieutenant decided I should carry more stuff than I weigh on my back for 30 klicks. *anger, resentment, fear, doubt*
Well, that's about it for today I think. By next week, I should know for sure what's going down. Oh, next week we have a march + a camp night. We'll march until night falls, then make a temporary, tentless camp, and then march back in the morning. It'll probably rain. Just as a nice wee finale to the whole shebang. ^_^
Maaaaan I whine a lot...
Last week was fairly eventless. I did become sick (or rather, call in sick) for the first time in my nearly-two-month-long army career. A proud 39.1 degrees (that's celcius, yeah?) fever. Thought it might be a good idea not to go about running -too- much. Although there really wasn't much running happening all last week, it was pretty eventless really. Except perhaps for the whole football thing : just another short essay on army-mentality and its values.
Alright, basically...on Thursday, we had a wee "football tournament". This wasn't a civilian happening, but quite military indeed. We were divided into eight teams, who played eachother in turn : the winning team would stay on the field, and only two teams could play at the same time. If you lost, you were sent to the sideline. In the sideline...in the sideline, they had pointless-nazi-muscle-conditioning. You know, things like "now we're all putting our legs up, with our hands on our knees, for 10 minutes!". And once that was done, we'd do it again. And if someone couldn't take it, the timer would just have to revert to the beginning to make sure everyone does it properly! ..well, maybe not quite that bad, but basically the kind of exercises no professional trainer would ever, ever, ever recommend to his (or her) charges. So, the moral of it was : WIN your games, and you don't have to do all of these fucked-up nazi exercises. LOOSE, and you're running around like an insane guy, or getting your back broken in wrestling or whatever.
Luckily, we got all the way to the finals (which we lost), so our team didn't have to do any of the nazi exercises. Oh...and what did the winners win? Three resounding "Hurraah"s! That whole day saw a noble sport such as football being turned into a pointless, somewhat cruel exercise in army indoctrination. I so hate this place.
And on Saturday, we became official Jaegers (Jääkäreitä, Jägare). There was a ceremony, where we marched up and down the square and then didn't sing a song we were supposed to sing and then took the whole oath thing. Well...at least I am no longer a recruit. But now I do also know I'm not staying here for neither 270 days nor 362. It's 180 days for me, baaaby!
But...my great fear.
We've had, as I've mentioned, a nazi platoon-instructor. This man scares everyone, including me. I'm not the least bit afraid of any of the other clowns in this asylum, except this one. For he has the full, legal authority, given to him by the lawfully elected representatives of our fair country, to turn the next four months of my life into literal, back-breaking hell. He is in charge of the "Light Grenadier" platoon (Lätta Granatkastarna, Kevyt Kranaatinheitinjoukkue), and he almost always picks people from the platoon he instructed to its ranks. Now, these guys carry around grenadelaunchers (think mortars) that weigh up to 40 kg. The Finnish army has such a mentality, that all things should be carried, if it's physically possible at all to do so. Which means people regularily carry around things that are ridiculously heavy. I get quite tired just marching 15 km in my normal gear ; with another 40 kg strapped to my back, I probably couldn't make three meters before I die. And, of course, since he's a nazi, he'd have us carry those things on a 30 km march...half of which is conducted in full ABC-protection gear. -_- Since, as I've also mentioned, he's a gas-mask freak. I think he's unconsciously afraid all of those people his ideological forebears gassed to death will come back for revenge some day...*twitch*
And it's not only that. We'd keep our old belt-thingee, while everyone else gets a nice new nifty kewl kevlar vest; we'd just get a flak-jacket which weighs alot and is practically useless against anything but a few rocks flying about. And, everyone else moves house ; the light grenadiers stay in the exact same place. The fact that I have to stay another 4 months might have been aided by some change...new, fancy gear, a new place to stay, new people to meet...I could've spent a month getting used to the new stuff, and another month to get used to the new people. At which point the whole charade would nearly be over!
But now...I will be stuck with the SAME people, the SAME gear, in the SAME place. And every single day will be a day when Lt.W tortures us. See...half the people he chooses are strong, able peeps, the kind that are needed for the ardous tasks of the Light Grenadiers. The other half are weaklings and sicklings, whom he can grind to dust beneath his boots. Of the last bunch that went through the grinder, a fourth went with civil service, a fourth became B-men (=got some serious injury which made it impossible for them to continue in active A-man service), a fourth simply called in sick almost every single day, and the remaining small bunch actually stayed in-line. So I hear, at least.
Harumm. I am actually just putting down my worst fears on paper (uhm, computer). I mean...it might all be rumours, he might just be very tough, but not unrealistically so. I might get a position that doesn't involve carrying heavy stuff. Hell : I might not even necessarily join his platoon! I might be assigned somewhere completely different!
Then again, all my fears might be realised, with interest. In which case I will seriously have to consider my future army career. I will not live the rest of my life as a cripple because some nazi lieutenant decided I should carry more stuff than I weigh on my back for 30 klicks. *anger, resentment, fear, doubt*
Well, that's about it for today I think. By next week, I should know for sure what's going down. Oh, next week we have a march + a camp night. We'll march until night falls, then make a temporary, tentless camp, and then march back in the morning. It'll probably rain. Just as a nice wee finale to the whole shebang. ^_^
Maaaaan I whine a lot...