Post-campo
Well, ugh. Every bit as bad as I expected. First night we didn't get to go to sleep 'ere 4 AM in the morning. We were prepping shells, see. God-dammit.
Tuesday : We've packed our bags, we're ready to go. Weather : horrible. Rain, lashing wind. Good news : we're going with truck, unlike everyone else who has to bike. Ah well. A minor consolation, but nonetheless. Destination : Syndalen, where we'll...err...I can't remember.
Actually, we did naught. Picked up some wood. Actually, we picked up a lot of wood. We then spent a whole day chopping the wood. Until about 11-12, when we finally were sent off in a lot of stress to our positions. As far as I can tell, we wanked off the entire day JUST so Lt.W could have us do everything in the darkness and cold instead of in comfortable light. This is the day we prepared about 200 shells 'till 4 AM in the morning.
Sleep : 1 h
Wednsday : We..uhm...what the hell did we do? It was disgustingly cold. I think we shot a lot of shells, stood around waiting, shot some more. It was very cold, and uncomfortable, and no sleep and...I really don't know. He got angry at us because some of the shells were poorly prepared (missing certain elements), but the fuckface can just blame himself : at 4 AM with no sleep all day, you're bound to make mistakes. Idiot.
Sleep : 2 h
Thursday : We shoot off the rest of our shells, then we head out to Hästö-Busö. The infamous place where we had our first camp. It's still hell for the most of us. And it was, of course, once again such. The cliffs, upon which we had to climb to get off the boats (everyone else camped & used the conventiently placed harbour just a couple of hundred meters from where we unboarded) were entirely covered in ice, and made convenient deathtraps, as we were all burdened by equipment and the water was not only several meters deep but also icing cold. Had anyone fallen in, it'd had been a matter of minutes before the poor sod had been dead. Everyone joked that evening of how they'd just stand around watching had Lt.W fallen in. Who knows. Maybe we would have. Cruelity breeds in discontentment.
Anyway, we covered the cliffs in sand, and managed to thusly get up with the help of ropes and whatnot. Set up positions. Fired a load of shells all day. Only when night had fallen did we move to our next positions, once again wanking off the few hours of daylight we had to our disposal. The boats went and collected additional shells. Some 500 this time. However, we did manage to come over a small tractor which was on the island, and using that we could freight most of the boxes over to our new positions. I don't think the lieutenant liked that at all, but he couldn't really complain could he?
We shot a -lot- of shells this evening. A lot and lot.
Sleep : 1.5 h
Friday : Shot off the last of our shells. Shot some with our rifles. Wee. No more mortariering. Spent the day pretty much setting up camp. Oh : and Lt.W claimed he had "reserved" a spot at the sauna. Of course, when we got there, the sauna was closed and cold. Odd, since there's always supposed to be a soldier there warming things up whenever the sauna is to be used. Which leads me to believe he hadn't reserved shit. At least not any time in advance. Maybe he had put his name on a list 20 minutes beforehand or something. Yes, atta lieutenant for taking care of your men. You're so fair.
The sauna-thing ended with us just barely having time to shave and wash our feet. But that was good, at least. Changing socks. My feet are...wrecks. Total wrecks. *sigh*
Anyway, set up camp, with mortars out and all, though we had no shells left to fire.
Sleep : 2.5 h
Saturday : Morning we shot the most stupid-ass shooting ever. I...neh. I just hate it, since it takes ridiculous amounts of time, we've done it a hundred times before. It also caused us to only get back so late that we barely had time to change clothes before we were sent off to loma.
At least I got my extended-to-Monday loma through. Fuck aye!
Camp sleep total : 7 hours of 96 possible
Anyway. It's cold now, and the whole camp was a horrible, horrible thing. It was just so...pointless. And...and...I can't think straight any longer. I just can't produce any coherent, intelligent thought. I'm too sick and too beat and too tired all the time, and when I get home all I want to do is lie down and eat chocolate and watch really dumb movies and be warm and comfortable.
I really, really don't get how George Orwell managed to write his book about the homeless (Down and out in Paris and London) if he ever was as cold and miserable and tired and beat as I was.
Maybe it's simply worse being in the army than it is being homeless. In your face, Finnish Social Services!
War fatigue. That's what this is. Please let it be THROUGH already!
/end.
Tuesday : We've packed our bags, we're ready to go. Weather : horrible. Rain, lashing wind. Good news : we're going with truck, unlike everyone else who has to bike. Ah well. A minor consolation, but nonetheless. Destination : Syndalen, where we'll...err...I can't remember.
Actually, we did naught. Picked up some wood. Actually, we picked up a lot of wood. We then spent a whole day chopping the wood. Until about 11-12, when we finally were sent off in a lot of stress to our positions. As far as I can tell, we wanked off the entire day JUST so Lt.W could have us do everything in the darkness and cold instead of in comfortable light. This is the day we prepared about 200 shells 'till 4 AM in the morning.
Sleep : 1 h
Wednsday : We..uhm...what the hell did we do? It was disgustingly cold. I think we shot a lot of shells, stood around waiting, shot some more. It was very cold, and uncomfortable, and no sleep and...I really don't know. He got angry at us because some of the shells were poorly prepared (missing certain elements), but the fuckface can just blame himself : at 4 AM with no sleep all day, you're bound to make mistakes. Idiot.
Sleep : 2 h
Thursday : We shoot off the rest of our shells, then we head out to Hästö-Busö. The infamous place where we had our first camp. It's still hell for the most of us. And it was, of course, once again such. The cliffs, upon which we had to climb to get off the boats (everyone else camped & used the conventiently placed harbour just a couple of hundred meters from where we unboarded) were entirely covered in ice, and made convenient deathtraps, as we were all burdened by equipment and the water was not only several meters deep but also icing cold. Had anyone fallen in, it'd had been a matter of minutes before the poor sod had been dead. Everyone joked that evening of how they'd just stand around watching had Lt.W fallen in. Who knows. Maybe we would have. Cruelity breeds in discontentment.
Anyway, we covered the cliffs in sand, and managed to thusly get up with the help of ropes and whatnot. Set up positions. Fired a load of shells all day. Only when night had fallen did we move to our next positions, once again wanking off the few hours of daylight we had to our disposal. The boats went and collected additional shells. Some 500 this time. However, we did manage to come over a small tractor which was on the island, and using that we could freight most of the boxes over to our new positions. I don't think the lieutenant liked that at all, but he couldn't really complain could he?
We shot a -lot- of shells this evening. A lot and lot.
Sleep : 1.5 h
Friday : Shot off the last of our shells. Shot some with our rifles. Wee. No more mortariering. Spent the day pretty much setting up camp. Oh : and Lt.W claimed he had "reserved" a spot at the sauna. Of course, when we got there, the sauna was closed and cold. Odd, since there's always supposed to be a soldier there warming things up whenever the sauna is to be used. Which leads me to believe he hadn't reserved shit. At least not any time in advance. Maybe he had put his name on a list 20 minutes beforehand or something. Yes, atta lieutenant for taking care of your men. You're so fair.
The sauna-thing ended with us just barely having time to shave and wash our feet. But that was good, at least. Changing socks. My feet are...wrecks. Total wrecks. *sigh*
Anyway, set up camp, with mortars out and all, though we had no shells left to fire.
Sleep : 2.5 h
Saturday : Morning we shot the most stupid-ass shooting ever. I...neh. I just hate it, since it takes ridiculous amounts of time, we've done it a hundred times before. It also caused us to only get back so late that we barely had time to change clothes before we were sent off to loma.
At least I got my extended-to-Monday loma through. Fuck aye!
Camp sleep total : 7 hours of 96 possible
Anyway. It's cold now, and the whole camp was a horrible, horrible thing. It was just so...pointless. And...and...I can't think straight any longer. I just can't produce any coherent, intelligent thought. I'm too sick and too beat and too tired all the time, and when I get home all I want to do is lie down and eat chocolate and watch really dumb movies and be warm and comfortable.
I really, really don't get how George Orwell managed to write his book about the homeless (Down and out in Paris and London) if he ever was as cold and miserable and tired and beat as I was.
Maybe it's simply worse being in the army than it is being homeless. In your face, Finnish Social Services!
War fatigue. That's what this is. Please let it be THROUGH already!
/end.