Our Sunday with the Styrian Guard

A para-true story

Saturday, 2:20 p.m., a small village somewhere in Kozjansko, the snack bar by the bus stop

Guardsman A (in civilian clothes): “Julčka, two Laško beers, and then leave us alone, we’ve got something to sort out.”

Guardsman B (in civilian clothes): “And make them nice and cold.”

Julčka (in uniform) rolls her eyes and mutters to her colleague behind the bar: “Playing soldiers again. Mine was saying something about joining too, but I gave him such a hiding he doesn’t need a camouflage uniform to be covered in spots.”

Guardsman A: “We meet tomorrow at six in the morning, assembly point Hill 405.”

Guardsman B: “Huh?”

“Hill 405. Don’t you know where Hill 405 is?”

“No idea.”

“Back there, behind Kaučič’s scrubland, that path that goes up into the woods, up to the meadow with that big linden tree. Where Joža had his fiftieth birthday picnic and then threw up all over the place.”

“So why don’t you just say where Joža threw up all over the place?”

“Three hundred devils, because we’re an army, not some half-witted gang shuffling around in flip-flops and swilling beer.”

Guardsman B (under his breath): “Well…”

Guardsman B (out loud): “Is the boss coming?”

“No, that lady lawyer says it’s better if he keeps a low profile. But he sent a speech for me to read; she went over it too. And apparently a reporter from Delo is coming, they’re doing a feature on us. The ones from Ljubljana fixed all that.”

“The ones from Ljubljana?”

“Shut up. Better you don’t know.”

“Why isn’t Večer doing a feature?”

“They don’t want to. Say they’re not interested.”

“Traitorous lot. What a damn country, where people from Ljubljana are bigger Styrians than people from Maribor.”

Sunday, 7:45 a.m., Hill 405 (where Joža threw up all over the place)

Guardsman A (in uniform): “What kind of army are you, dragging yourselves in only now? We said six. Good thing the boss isn’t here.”

Guardsmen (to themselves): “Six? On a Sunday? You’re completely off your head.”

Guardsman A (smartly): “430th Special Battalion of the Styrian Guard, atteeeen-tion! I will read you a message from our supreme commander, who, owing to an unjust verdict by the regime’s crooked judiciary and on the advice of his lawyer, is unfortunately not with us today.”

In his hands he clutches a scribbled sheet of paper on which some words have been crossed out and others written in with a red marker, in nervous, nasty handwriting. “That woman won’t let the boss so much as fart without her permission anymore,” he whispers to Guardsman B, standing beside him. “Now she decides what we say and what we do.”

Guardsman B (glancing around nervously): “Women. That one’s even worse than mine.”

Guardsman A (reading, even more smartly): “Greetings, Styrian Guardsmen, members of the volunteer defense group of the free people of the land of Styria. The day will soon come when we shall ride the mighty bora wind and defend our land against…” Guardsman A pauses for a moment, squints at the paper and the words written in fat red letters, “…against faggots, migrants, feminists, Soros’s hirelings, Muslims and…”

Guardsman A (whispering): “That bit’s from the lawyer. She says we should keep quieter for a while about the armed uprising and an independent Styria and all that. We can lay into the faggots and the migrants and the rest, because that’s not inciting the violent overthrow of the constitutional order, it’s just thinking differently. Apparently it’s really democratic if we’re dissenters and if we give those…” (he squints at the paper again) “…a bit of an ear-pulling so they don’t threaten our Styrian culture.”

Guardsman A (reading on, moderately smartly): “…and together we shall rise up as a steel Styrian fist that will crush to dust the leftist lies about climate change…”

Guardsman B (surprised): “What’s this climate change now?”

Guardsman A (whispering): “Supposedly from now on it’ll just be heat and rain and hail. Like now, only even more crap. Apparently Kučan and his lot are behind this too. I didn’t understand all of it, but the ones from Ljubljana told me I had to say it.”

“The ones from Ljubljana?”

“Shut up. Better you don’t know.”

Guardsman B (to himself): “What kind of Styrian Guard are we, if the ones from Ljubljana decide everything?”

Guardsman A (out loud): “Take the company out for training.”

“You mean the battalion?”

“Yes, the battalion. Take it out for training.”

“What are we training in?”

“Target shooting.”

“With what, for God’s sake? Didn’t the boss say no weapons this time?”

Guardsman A (conspiratorially): “I’ve got a shotgun in the boot. Just chuck out the cartridges after training so there’s no trouble. And tell that guy from Delo not to take pictures.”

Guardsman B (under his breath): “Target practice with a shotgun? He’s completely mad. Even Joža can hit something with that, without training. What kind of army are we?”

Sunday, 9:35 p.m., by the campfire on Hill 405 (where Joža threw up all over the place)

Guardsman A (with comradely warmth): “Comrades, after a hard day’s training we can relax a little now. Only you, Joža, take it a bit slower, you know what happened last time we were here. And you’ve got the first watch.”

Guardsman Joža (with difficulty): “Don’t mess with me, what watch? What am I supposed to stand guard with, my own dick? I can do that at home. What kind of army are we?”

Guardsman A (reproachfully): “Take the shotgun. Just chuck the cartridges out first so there’s no trouble.”

Guardsman Joža (into his beard): “Better my dick than an empty gun. I’m not chucking anything out.”

Sunday, 11:40 p.m., a few hundred meters below Hill 405 (where Joža threw up all over the place)

Younger voice (irritated): “Come on, Dad, can you explain why it’s not enough that we’ve been tramping through every possible backwater all week, but now we have to climb up here at night instead of sleeping down in the village and moving on tomorrow?”

Older voice (soothingly paternal): “Son, somewhere around here I once gave a speech at a ceremony. I don’t remember whether it was for the Partisans or the Home Guard, it doesn’t matter, but I remember a meadow facing due east, and an enormous linden tree, the symbol of Slovenianness. I want to be up there by morning; the light will be phenomenal for selfies.”

Younger voice (still irritated): “Dad, what’s actually the point of all the selfies and Instagram and stuff? Aren’t you supposed to be…?”

Older voice (proudly): “I am.”

Younger voice (increasingly irritated): “And?”

“And what?”

“What’s the point?”

“There is no point. That’s the point.”

Younger voice (confused): “Huh?”

Older voice (statesmanlike): “Without content there are no ideas, without ideas there are no ideologies, without ideologies there are no divisions. Only without ideas and without values can the Slovenian nation be truly free and united. Why argue about what is right and what isn’t when we can simply be Slovenians?”

Younger voice (appalled): “A vacuum of values as the foundation of national unity? Jeez! Have you ever heard of Aristotle?”

Older voice (patronizingly): “Exactly! I knew you’d understand. What do you think, for the morning selfie, would a warm, human look and smile be better, or something more statesmanlike, serious and staring into the distance?”

Younger voice (resigned, in his head): “A straitjacket. On a paddleboard. Or in Kozjansko. Whatever.”

Voice from the darkness (frightened): “Halt. In the name of the Styrian Guard. Who goes there?”

Older voice (even more frightened): “Crucifix, what’s this now?”

Younger voice (frightened but composed): “Dad, get down, the guy’s got a gun!”

Gun (very loudly): “Bang!”

Guardsman Joža (in his head, perhaps also out loud): “Long live free Styria. I’m going to throw up again.”

Author’s note

This is, of course, a fictional story, in which any resemblance to real events or persons is purely coincidental and not entirely ill-intentioned. Moreover, fortunately, despite a full day’s training, Guardsman Joža was unable to hit his target even in fiction. Once he had recovered, the distinguished guest inspected the guard of honor, pardon, the battalion, and then, in an impromptu address, stressed the importance of patriotism and of spending free time in nature. He invited Guardsman Joža to attend one of his upcoming consultations on regional development in Slovenia.