Rambling around the barracks for two or three days, with nothing to do and no designation, and not even in the mood for the beer. I'm off the guard duty, finally, not even the deputy dispatcher of the guards. Which was sort of fun the other day when I did that, as I could sleep all day - this is a night duty - in the guardhouse, where no officer has jurisdiction but the chief commander (mostly absent) and the officer on duty - whose office is unfortunately too near, but then he either sleeps or watches TV or just walks around, never much trouble unless we cause some. At night, I led the change of guards at 22:00, at 0:00, but by 2:00 I just had enough. Now to distribute guards to their posts is called "razvoditi stražu" - the verb being the same as "to divorce". So I asked the guys "was I getting you married?" "no you weren't" "then you can divorce yourself".
Well, someone made a decision of my fate today. Mercifully, they thought I wouldn't have to go back to Vis (and they didn't send back neither Dudek nor Toške), and sent me to that hill above the highway, to a transmitter and antenna post, officially dubbed "meteorology station". Yeah, right, the antenna rig could be seen from the city with simple binoculars.
The dorm was, well, almost at home, compared to what I had down there. Warm, with carpet, and an almost pleasant smell, not bad at all. And I got the upper bunk again, good. For the toilet I don't quite remember whether it was a čučavac or a seat, probably the former and better that way, who knows who sat on it previously. At least we had hot water at all times, and could take a shower whenever we felt like it, didn't have to wait for the organized trip to the other building once a week like we did down there.
Only about sixteen to twenty people, far enough from civilization and the hierarchy, with just one sub-officer (that's anyone without college, corporal to bannerman) on duty, 24 h a day for two weeks, when the other guy would relieve him. The younger one was there at the time, a quiet and nice guy. There seemed to be a "you don't cause any trouble, you get none from me" deal between him and the crew, and it seemed to work. There were four bunkers at the corners, a real fortress, built by Italians during WWII. Later I understood why this remark was made, when they showed me the underground installations. My hair kept touching the ceiling, and I am not particularly tall... but I'd probably stand out in Italy of the forties.
The jobs were simple - I'd get a phone call from the guys in the valley when they needed to broadcast, with frequency and time, I'd set up one of the six transmitters, call them when ready, then they'd call me when they were done and I'd turn it off. The other duty was more like the switchboard operator, where I'd get the FM call from a ship and patch it into the phone network. These came unannounced, but then the machine was next to the bed and it either rang really loud (if the call came from the land) or I'd hear a voice from the speaker (if from a ship or another such machine).
That day Krleža died, and there was nothing else on TV... but the TV was in color. The first time I ever had time enough in front of a color TV, it had to be something boring like this. But then when the corporal went to sleep, the guys showed me the other channels - italian soft porn. We were just high enough above the ground that Italy was in line-of-sight, and their transmitters were surely elevated as well. So, if the weather was good...
15-VII-2022 - 5-XII-2024