24-VIII-1981.
Birthday in uniform, fuckit. I spent it on guard duty, playing in my head all those long songs from Korni grupa, as precisely as I could remember them after these ten years, and Oldfield's „Tubular bells“... and then they let us go off guard, we weren't on the next roster.
And that next day there was a concert by Vera Matović in the barracks, on the football field. I knew her by name, not that I didn't, but had no idea what songs were hers or where she appeared, just another neofolksy singer, same as the others. But I saw the officers stirred in anticipation of the event, and, who knows how, I found out that there's a photo lab in the barracks. Wooow... got to lay my hands on that. And this concert was my chance. I don't know whom did I sweettalk, perhaps Elvir or someone else as well, no idea. The net result was that on that day I had a camera, don't know whose and where I got it, and the key to the lab, and a couple of rolls of film, I think Fotokemika's KB17. I probably bought it in the city when I had the chance, as well as the chemicals and paper, investing what money I had.
I didn't have much of a plan, beyond shooting the concert and posting the prints somewhere, probably as bulletin on the wall in the club space by the canteen, there was some space for that.
I did make the shots. On the second shot some officer's child hands a bouquet of flowers to Vera... and that's all I remember. While I have preserved the other nine or twelve negatives I made while in uniform, this one is gone, I have only these two prints. So I don't remember anything else of the day, except that I talked with some Branko (or Bogdan or something on B) Rašić, rock photographer, who worked in the UK then, and later became famous as Brian Rašić, had a bunch of photos with the Stones and Bowie and who not, even made an exhibition in Zrenjanin in 2022. He simply spotted me as a colleague so we had a chat. I guess he was in the big barracks beyond ours, or was something navy.
The important thing was that I was seen shooting, and then had a bunch of requests to make more photos. So I made them and distributed them later... with a wee fee, twice the cost of material, classic scheme. It's amazing how the guys love to have their photos in uniform, to keep as a memento or to send home, while spouting mouthfulls of dislike for being in the vojska. Whatever, I had a business rolling. The lab sported this enlarger, of czech Meopta brand, quite good, never saw one like that but then they're all the same and sport that drawer for CMY filters, which even the old soviet UPA had. Never saw any of those filters, maybe once o a picture.
Just like I used to have.
True, most of september I did nothing of the kind, or that negative vanished too, but then in october it all started. The next class was induced, and I got the duty to make all their military ID photos. Which I did, and was suddenly full of money. By november I got as far as getting into a habit to down two beers (0,5l ožujsko, good to wash your feet, which I heard was the practice in the brewery) in those thirty minutes off that we had after lunch. I could have sent money home. I wrote to her that she should send me only tobacco, which I can't buy anywhere, send me no money.
There were two sideshows... Two or three times the reserve unit gathered, from some artizanat rota, to do more or less nothing - they don't do maneuvers, they are here to fix what gets broken, these are gunsmiths, vehicle repair and the like, locals... The amount of wine they brought along was incredible, dear mother. And they stayed for weekend only. We'd see them for just a couple of hours while they gathered and hit the beer while the canteen still works; they'd retreat into their hangar in the corner behind the guardhouse. We renamed them into reservoirs on the spot. Those two canisters carried about 20l each and I'm sure there was more, unseen.
The other bunch which gathered also on sundays but in the morning were the rugby players. Someone passed the idea to spread this sport, and it seems they trained enough coaches already - they even had a league - and for their practice they got the football field here.
Whoa... had Elvir ever addressed us with a tenth of what this coach shouted at the poor kids, he'd have been blanketed* already, or someone would be doing time for offing him. The vocabulary, the tone, the shouting, it was an american drill sargeant dialed to eleven. And these kids volunteered to do this. I couldn't understand the mindset which would tolerate that. Well, we saw them three times tops, and then they either found a more civilized place to do this, or the whole story fell apart, who'll know.
That's when Elvir also got the idea that we could have some extracurricular activities. So we, namely the first squad, got organized...
Now why the first squad. Well because we were the telegraphists, and had lots of school among ourselves - four college graduates, two with half-college, most of the rest with high school... perhaps a couple of guys with just elementary. The second squad were the telephonists, which were so-so, neither here nor there. The third squad were the liners, whose job was to carry a spool of wire on the back, and unspool it in the field, from one place to another, then roll it back up when done. No kind of intellect required. Someone got the information that, when totalled, these guys had more jailtime than academia above elementary between themselves. They really were mostly raw material, some complete highlanders, some streetwise from Sarajevo, prone to fight or prank, always on bad terms with their lieutenant. The guy was the young Macedonian, who was the only one who looked greener than Elvir. He grew a thick moustache to cover for it, which didn't help much.
We had a different routine. We'd simply ask Elvir what was there to do, and then got organized among ourselves and finished it faster and smoother than under his command and meddling. And the agreement was that we be left alone once finished. Which mostly worked, so he took to being around less and less, we'd often not see him for a day or two. And then in his work plan there'd be an entry saying that he should go rough on us, which invariably happened exactly when we did everything right, and never when there was a real reason, we covered our messes nicely and he never really knew. But, so it says in his plan, and so he did, and that's where the resistance started.
Mentions: Elvir Pozder, Korni grupa, vojska, in serbian
22-V-2023 - 31-X-2025