The Meaning of Life pt. III: Fighting each other. - Would I fight?

(Greek War Flag flying Greek colours and St. George, the patron saint of the Greek Land Army killing the serpent - October 2006)

One year ago I completed my compulsory time of service in the Greek Army. The "anniversary" was 2 days ago but illness prevented any celebrations.

(6-inch Guns of the Artillery firing blank salvoes to salute celebrations of Greek 28 October National Holiday)

The question, even though one year has passed, still remains haunting: Would I fight and possibly die? And, if yes, why?

(Second posting special forces - winter 2006-7 : I must have been really pissed off that day...)

The answer to the first question is easy. I am now under oath and I would do it. Not because of the oath per se.
Oaths have a special mystique of their own and the very notion of allegiance to death resonates deep into the soul of a warrior. And it has proven destructive, as it was demonstrated when during the Second World War most officers of the Wehrmacht stayed true to their oath of allegiance to Adolf Hitler even though he was clearly leading Germany to total annihilation.

(First posting -infantry - autumn 2006 :"Hey Doc, do you know anything about electronics?" "Yes Lieutenant, as a matter of fact quite a few things..." "Ok then, you get the radiophone..." αργότερα... πού'σαι ρε μαλάκα Αντωνιάδη, πάρε με στο κινητό δε λειτουργεί αυτη η μαλακία που μου δώσανε...)

But, no, I am afraid and very sorry to say that it is not the oath to the flag that would be my main drive to fight. Very sorry indeed to say that because many people, many good people died for that flag.

(Second posting -special forces winter 2006-7: Hellenic Air Force C-130 Hercules approaching paratrooper drop zone for the first sortie of the day)

In all honesty, who would appreciate the idea to die for a country run by worthless and utterly corrupt politicians, petty and unworthy servants scurrying to do the bidding of mindless masters dealing in high-stakes finance? Who can forget that the fat blubbering slobs that claim to represent the people of Greece are smugly seated in their parliament chairs simply by stepping on the bodies of the young men that died under the treads of tanks fighting for an ideal that has become what we now try to pass as democracy?

(Infantry grenade launcher - first posting - summer 2006 - why would a doctor need a grenade launcher anyway? but of course to show off...)

(First posting - infantry - summer 2006 :Aboard a Hummer with a mounted KORNET anti-tank missile launcher. Note the funny "shoot the doctor first" helmet)

No, the ideal is dead and its carcass is being raped everyday by politicians, journalists and civil servants all across the country.

(Second posting - special forces - John Rambo beware...)

(Second posting - special forces winter 2006-2007 : "Hey Sarge, where are my medical supplies?" "We'll deliver them to the dressing station, doc!" Instead of medical supplies I got 3 crates of hand grenades. Guaranteed to permanently cure anything out of existence)

I would fight for it is in our nature to do so. Because the aggressors would try to impose a new order that would inevitably be worse than the present status. And it is only natural to resist that.

(Second posting - special forces - 08 February 2007 - On my discharge day. Not allowed a moment of respite even on my discharge day I got to cover a paratrooper landing covered by Malcolm Brabant for BBC World on a report on those pussies that are dodging conscription to the Greek Army - watch the video here: Greek crackdown on draft dodge. I got to be on BBC TV as "Dr. George Papadimitropolous". At least they got it half-right...)

And not because we cannot bear the yoke if need be. Humans can tolerate and get used to almost anything. What I would and could not bear however is the indignity of seeing the people I love bear that yoke.

I can think of no better words than those of the poet Richard Lovelace,one of the Cavalier poets who fought for King Charles against Oliver Cromwell. From his poem:

To Lucasta: Going to the Warres

I.
Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkinde,
That from the nunnerie
Of thy chaste breast and quiet minde
To warre and armes I flie.

II.
True: a new Mistresse now I chase,
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith imbrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.

III.
Yet this inconstancy is such,
As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee, dear, so much,
Lov'd I not Honour more.

You see, I would fight for the people next to me. I would fight for my friends. I would fight for my family. I would fight for my childhood playgrounds. I would fight for the one I love. I would fight so that her eyes remain unclouded of tears. And I would die, I would die a thousand deaths rather than having to bear the shame of having to watch this. How can someone love anyone, if one does not love Honour more?

PS. To lighten things up a bit: "A man may fight for many things: his country, his principles, his friends, the glistening tear on the cheek of a golden child. But personally I'd mud-wrestle my own mother for a ton of cash, an amusing clock and a sack of French porn. - Edmund Blackadder The Third.

(In 2007 Santa Claus arrived with a free-fall parachute. This year I hope he chose something more convenient that allowed for more gifts...)