I- BallZ

Types of soldiers:

One of the most common, nowadays, category of soldier is the “I”-category A.K.A “giotades”. The “I” letter stands for ability, but it would be better to stand for inability, since it would seem, everybody is trying to appear unable to serve his duty at its fullest. Becoming I1 or I2 means that you can carry a gun and participate in all exercises. I3 and I4 means that you can sleep, eat and drink all you want, if you’ve got an excuse for it, like my left leg was once broken in multiple places and now hurts like hell, or my right testicle was injured during a free bed fall. I5 means that you are unable to do anything in your life: You are either severing injured or crazy. You don’t have to go to the army but you can’t work in public services either. A popular category among singers, rich people, sons of politicians and actors…

Even if you use the lamest excuse, the moment you bring a note from a doctor that says you are I3 or I4, you are free. These people enjoy their stay in the army and still mock you, because you were not clever enough to fake an injury and pretend that you are weak, impotent, a cripple or something. They mock you once you leave for your guard; they mock you as you are in a military transport, leaving for some 5-hour exercise. And once you return, you can watch a guy with spinal injuries taking push-ups, while you can barely stand.

There was a guy in the training centre, and when the doctor was asking for any injuries in our lifetime, everyone was trying to find an excuse. A broken small finger, a broken tooth… Anyway, this guy starts explaining, very calmly, that he had multiple cranial fractures, a broken jaw, broken nose, he was stabbed by a knife on his back TWICE, he had a dislocated arm, his left wrist was broken, his kneecaps, you guessed it, also broken from football… Oookay…

Then, in my second unit, there was a guy named Alex. He smelled like a wet dog, was bored even to fart, and he kept asking money and underwear from every other guy in the battalion. And he was also a I-powered guy. He did absolutely nothing, and if and when he did, he did it wrong. I remember him complaining about his back and how his “legs could barely walk him around”. Poor guy. My captain thought the same and he signed some days off for him. Our barracks were about 300m far from HQ. So, when Alex learned about the days off and was asked to go and meet the captain, he run those 300m faster than I thought it was possible for a human being.

Anyway. There were some nice I-people I met, who had real problems and still tried to serve with dignity. Some were even more capable than many I1’s I’ve met. But those who pretend make a bad name out of it. It just feels unfair to do all the hard stuff and then watch some guy sitting on a desk, eating sandwiches and laughing at you. They really don’t do nothing. They count the guns, they are working in offices like secretaries and they help some officers with numbers and stuff.

It would be unfair to make a judgement here, a clear one that is. You’ve been to the Army, you make your own. Or when you go, again, make your own. The truth lies, as always, somewhere in the middle.

Surely many of you will have heard that all the guys that join the Army are VERY unhappy about it. All of them? No. A small percentage of people think of the Army as the time of their lives! They are the so called “stratokayloi” or, as I like to call them, “military-horny”.

From the first moments in the training camp, there were a couple of guys that talked about the army as if they were veterans of war. They knew weapon types, orders, ranks, slang military terms, and had the look of “been there, done that”. Some tried to make the rest of us feel bad about walking in the cucumber field without underwear, but relax, take it eeeeasy!

Come on: Who on his right mind cared about what is going on in the Army? Or, to formulate this better, was joining the Army the goal of his life? It is one thing to be curious and interested about it and another to be like Tackleberry from “Police Academy”.

Often to be misunderstood for stratokayloi are many people that don’t like the army, but they have no problem what so ever with it. My friend Nikos, whom I met in Mitilene, was such a guy: He didn’t want to have an officer over his head ordering him this and that, so he did everything by the book. He was at least decent in most situations and very confident about himself. All these were mistaken for him having “the hots about the Army”. But I ask you: Is it better to moan and complain about everything or just do the damn thing and have no worries?

What needs to be worried about are the officers who are military horny as well! They are not doing it for the money, but because they like it. They like tormenting the soldiers, barking orders, dragging the battalion to field exercises, tormenting the soldiers a bit more and tormenting the soldiers even more. They think that life should be modelled after the army, that’s the impression they give me. Prey that you won’t meet any of them while you serve in the armed forces.

Last but not least, are the people who are well – connected, the so called “vismata”, the “plugged ones”. Their end reaches to some high ranking military guy, a colonel or something, who, even better, ought to be placed in a key position. It can be a friend of your grandmother’s second cousin’s former roommate, but any dignity and self-respect goes lost once you beg to someone to change your transfer or call your superiors and ask them to “treat you well” or give you more days off.

That, of course, does not sit well with the poor souls that have no such friends. As a result, “vismata” are often left alone or have few friends. None particularly likes them. Can you imagine how annoying it is to listen to how they will settle every problem with a phone-call? How happy they sound because they will be transferred and serve about 20 minutes away from their homes, while the rest will be serving for 5 months hundreds of kilometres away from home? How nice it feels for them to move around unpunished, not participating in exercises, getting more days off while others have limited amount of them, it’s all so terribly annoying, how can you like these people?

Word of advice: You ever meet them, ignore them. They care only about themselves and that’s it. You can wait for months for some days off, while they visit their homes and families every ten days. Good for them.