The Doctor conducting the psychological evaluation seemed unlike the more simple-minded army professionals I had seen so far. I could sense from his temperament and the way he scanned me over as he welcomed me inside that I had to be mindful of what I was going to say. He had a paper in front of him that he seemed to have memorized detailing all the little things the state knew about me, including my academic achievements and educational trips abroad.
"Do you want to serve in the army, Peter?", I was being asked the question directly which I gathered wasn't protocol.
I assume the psychiatrist had seen at least a few cases that fit my profile in the past, and knew people like me weren't a good fit for the normal operation of an army base, so perhaps he straight forwardly was asking me if I just wanted to be out of here.
I was momentarily stunned. Maybe I did. Then imagery of the dozen or so male genitalia that I had just peaked at through the exam curtain flashed through my mind, just as the disharmonious baritone voices of the young male recruits outside complemented it beautifully.
I smiled politely at the psychiatrist and said, "Of course I do. I would love to serve my country in any way possible."
As I was saying it, locking eyes confidently with the Doctor, I allowed myself a small pleasure knowing it would leave him perplexed.
I admit to be a bit playful in the way I interact with people who profess to be serious. The psychiatrist may have no doubt been competent and experienced at his profession, but I had always been more than a little offended by the notion that such crude science would presume to assess people that were, by many objective metrics, exceptional.
I studied the Doctor's face for signs of confusion, knowing that they would be there, but I found none.
Instead, he held my gaze in silence for a few seconds with a subtle but growing smirk evident on his thin lips, as if I made him think of a joke, before he simply said "Great!", signed the paper, handed it to me and shouted for the next guy to come in.
The first 24 hours were interesting. The food and accommodation were terrible so I wouldn't give the Base a high rating on TripAdvisor, on that front. The men, however, did not disappoint.
I don't get easily overwhelmed, but later that evening, in a barracks packed with double bunk beds, scattered clothing and unwashed young recruits, I was blissfully aware of the sensory overload, much in contrast to my stale academic routine.
I was surprised that the comradery and enthusiasm of everyone was freely extended to me, a plainly out of place nerd, which I was happy to reciprocate. Though, intrusive thoughts being what they are, I couldn't help but find the thought of introducing myself as gay to these young rural Greeks as very amusing. Standing there, some of them in just their underwear as they got ready for bed... I could only imagine their reactions -- but of course, I wasn't going to ruin the positive atmosphere.
I sat on my bed taking in how odd it was to find myself in an army barracks, which was essentially my doing, instead of at the comfort of my home with my laptop at hand (which was taken from me, along with my phone). Besides, I was already more than a little uncomfortable from the close proximity to so many guys in a state of undress, vulgarity and casual immodesty having a shared experience that wasn't quite for me.
John, too, from the bus, was shirtless when he approached me and extended his hand for another firm shake as if we were buddies now. He walked directly in front of me, through the narrow space between the bunk beds, with his head mostly cut from view as I sat there at level with his abs and happy trail (which I tried not to follow), before sitting next to me on my bed in an uncomfortable (for me) attempt to get to know me. We were apparently going to be bunk mates, with John sleeping on the top bunk directly above me.
He tried to make conversation from which I gathered he was an apprentice mechanic from some island. He was really curious about what I did, and was fascinated by my academic background, bombarding me with several questions, albeit dumb and ignorant, on subjects he clearly knew nothing about and which I tried to answer cordially without over-complicating matters.
While he listened and nodded, though whether he understood I can't say, he kicked off his shoes, peeled off his socks then slouched back with his unwashed bare foot over his knee, occasionally touching me with its dirty sole absentmindedly as he gestured. This further challenged the already limited supply of oxygen from around me but a casual disregard for personal space was typical and well ingrained in most young Greek men.
A few minutes later a deep, mature voice boomed through the barracks, 'Lights out, men! You have one minute!' and the recruits, many of whom were still 18 and conditioned to obey authority, scurried to undress the rest of the way, and scamper to their beds.
John, too, got up, stood in the limited space directly in front of me and took off the rest of his clothing, getting down to the briefs he had worn all day. I lifted my legs onto the bed and crossed them so I'd give him freedom to move, though I didn't make any attempt to change where I sat.
Someone, then, walked in, turned off the lights and left, though there was still ample ambient light coming in from outside.
John didn't seem fully aware of the indiscretion of standing with his musky bulge just inches from my face, as he began folding his dirty clothes and looking through his bag which was tossed on the top bunk, making his equipment sway and bounce enticingly in the process. His view was cut from mine, but there were still other people in the room, so I tried to make myself appear casual as I remained seated in an uncomfortably close proximity to another man's genitals. I looked off to the side, avoiding direct contact, though I was still "forced" to inhale John's wonderfully complex aroma, while I waited for him to finish whatever he was doing. I just hoped he wasn't about to take his briefs off, too.
Just then, as he began to hoist himself up, probably having forgotten I was even there, let alone inches from his private parts, he inadvertently smashed his fat bulge against the soft cushion of my face, giving me a few solid seconds of his soft dick pressed against my mouth and covering me with smudges of what I assumed to be ball sweat.
He paused, realizing what had happened, then casually said, 'Oh, sorry man!', before continuing up and getting into bed with the sound of bedsprings strained by the tall Greek's weight.
I looked around, hoping that no one had noticed, or worse, understood my excitement at having my face assaulted by a young straight guy's junk, and after seeing that the coast was clear, I changed into my pajamas and got into my (sterile) sleeping bag which I laid out on top of the bacteria-ridden military bedding.
Exhausted from a long day, most recruits were fast asleep and snoring within a few minutes. The suffocating heat had started to dissipate, and a nice gentle breeze came through the open windows, bringing a necessary amount of clean air to the barracks.
My sleep was counter-intuitively peaceful as well. I was starting to think this experience might be too stress-inducing, but I was surprisingly calm and confident about the situation. John had also pleasantly surprised me (in more than the obvious way) by showing genuine interest in my pursuits and seeming respectful of my achievements. I felt a small pang of guilt for my condescending attitude earlier and began to maybe realize that the few days in the military might have some positive effect in helping me unravel the presumptions I've made about people over my unpleasant childhood years and which I solidly kept unchanged throughout my "academic isolation".
The next morning was interesting, as well. I had woken up a bit earlier than most (due to my natural anxiety and the fact that I'm used to early study sessions). It took me a moment to realize where I was and to take in my surroundings. The early morning sun peered through the windows and illuminated the barracks and men, still deep in sleep, strewn across their beds in a variety of indecent conditions.
The guy next to me, a larger but fit lad named Kostas (which I overheard), had initially gone to sleep under the covers, like most, but perhaps finding he ran too hot later in the night, he had at some gotten out of them. I found him sprawled on his back, with his arms up, legs splayed and his underwear riding low on one hip, revealing a thick patch of pubic hair. It was a strangely intimate sight.
While I woke up in the fixed supine position I always slept in, most guys, like Kostas, were in a similar care-free state of dishevelment. Typical of inconsiderate young men that valued comfort over modesty, but I wasn't complaining.
John's hairy foot dangled off the top bunk, hanging over my face when I sat up. Though, as the whole barracks smelled like dirty feet, I couldn't be upset.
As I got up and headed to the toilets, passing through two large connected rooms stacked with young sleeping men to reach them, I was quick to spot more than a few of my fellow army brothers tenting their briefs, and took a moment to appreciate those that were particularly well-endowed, like the handsome rural jock from the medical exam, whom I found sleeping like a baby with an unmissable large dick print on his sexy boxers. Though insubstantial by comparison, mine wasn't any less stiff by the time I got to the bathroom.
It was an unusual sight that I would sadly never get used to.