The day has come. I was going to the vojska, to be a soldier for a year. Actually, it would be 15 months, had I not graduated meanwhile - the state assumed that four years of college would easily shave off three months of training... except that the training lasts about six months regardless of your civilian degree.
So dad drove her, Go and me to Belgrade. I had my possessions in some minor bag, containing a pillowcase in which they'll be shipped back (using military mail system) once I get the uniform. The parting at the train wasn't that dramatic, at least the part I could see.
On the train I shared the coupe (i.e. compartment) with a couple of guys of identical destiny, which was to be expected - the army would create a lot of business for the railroad and buses four times a year. We recognized each other by fresh haircut, to which none of us were accustomed, and had already caught some tan line some distance from the current hairline.
Don't remember if we talked much on the train. We were all thinking our own thoughts. What's awaiting us in there. Note, not "out there". We're going in, and won't get out soon. At least, I'll finally get to spend a whole year on the shore.
Much later, when I'd hear „Neke su žene pratile vojnike“ by Riblja čorba, I'd remember this train.
2-V-2021 - 31-X-2025