Chapter 13: The Wise Fool

“The fool who persists in his following becomes wise.”

— William Blake

In every life, there comes a moment when compromise is no longer an option, when yielding means losing yourself. Standing firm in such times isn’t about pride or arrogance—it’s a fight for your values, your truth, for who you are. The choice is hard: rejection, failure, shame, others’ criticism, or even isolation may sting, but far worse is the slow fading of your core. You choose. Holding steady, no matter the storm, means declaring to the world and yourself that your dignity and convictions are unshakable. In these moments, when you refuse to break, you uncover strength you didn’t know you had and the courage to walk a path that makes you stronger, truer to yourself.

Alex hadn’t expected his four-year college diploma in Construction Business Development to feel so light in his hands. He thought it would carry the substance of hope, the heft of possibility—but instead, it felt almost insubstantial, as if the years of struggle and transformation it represented had been distilled into this single, fragile piece of paper. He let his gaze float over the crowd while standing in the college plaza in the middle of the hum of celebration, the flash of cameras, colorful flowers, and the cheerful people. This moment, the culmination of years of doubt, determination and found love, felt surreal. No one had believed he would make it this far—not his teachers, not his family, and certainly not the boy he had been when he first walked into Room 33, clutching a broken rose and wearing clothes that didn’t quite fit. But here he was, a different man entirely. Someone who had fought for his place in the world and had transformed the disorganized, rebellious youth who had previously stumbled through life. And the most importantly standing beside him, as she had through every step of his school journey, even when he slipped, was Anatig. Her presence was as steady and warming as the sunlight filtering through the plaza’s trees. Her big green eyes, still holding that familiar mix of amusement and understanding, now reflected something deeper—pride, perhaps, or the quiet acknowledgment of how far they had come together. 

Her father’s threats of “nine feet under” had once loomed over Alex like a storm cloud, but now they felt like distant thunder, a challenge he had not only survived but used as a foundation to rebuild himself and prove to the world he was not lost. 

“We did it,” Anatig whispered, her voice soft but brimming with emotion. She squeezed his hand, her touch grounding him in the present. Alex turned to her, his heart swelling with gratitude. That simple gesture revealed the shadow of their shared history—the near misses, the careful distances, the confrontations with her father, the broken heart, and finally, the hard-won acceptance that had brought them to this moment.

But even as the warmth of her hand steadied him, a shadow loomed over their celebration. The diploma, light as it was, felt like a fleeting reprieve. The world he had fought so hard to conquer was about to shift again. The call of mandatory military service, an inescapable duty for all young men in his homeland, was already pulling him away from the life he had just begun to build. As Alex slipped the diploma into its protective sleeve, a familiar pit of anxiety rose in his chest. The regimented world of academia, with its intellectual debates and quiet moments of discovery, was about to give way to something entirely different. The military wouldn’t care about his transformation from a scattered, lost, depressed youth to a dedicated partner. It would demand a new kind of change, one that would test his resilience in ways he couldn’t yet imagine. “I’ll wait for you,” Anatig said, her voice steady, her eyes unwavering. And in that moment, Alex knew it was enough. Her promise was the anchor he needed as he prepared his journey into the unknown.

Soon Alex stepped into the military complex, and his world changed once again. Gone were the intellectual debates of college halls, rascal friends, and the gentle warmth of Anatig's presence. Instead, he found himself thrust into a universe where discipline and order reigned supreme.  The sensory assault was immediate and overwhelming. His ears filled with the rhythmic clatter of marching boots on concrete asphalt and the stern voices of drill sergeants, issuing commands like wrenches tightening the air, demanding instant reaction and unquestioning obedience. His first uniform fitting became a symbolic moment of transformation. The stiff fabric and heavy boots carried more than just physical mass—they represented the mantle of responsibility he was assuming. "Real Men's School," A harsh forge of masculinity, where vulnerability was scorned as weakness, and the Russian military tradition of dėdavšyna’ cast dark shadows over the soldiers’ daily life. The reality of post-Soviet military life in the Lithuanian army proved brutally challenging, something nobody talked about, but everyone was aware of. Some of Alex's fellow recruits ended up in psychiatric hospitals for losing sanity while locked in a fridge earning a “white ticket,” (exemption from military service); and others in jail for violently enforcing these archaic traditions.

Every aspect of existence was regimented: wake at six, dress in thirty seconds, and face-washing, shaving, and teeth-brushing were completed in two minutes. Tardiness to morning assembly meant public punishment—push-ups performed under the critical gaze of the entire unit. Yet amid these trials, Alex's unique qualities began to emerge. His intelligence, once confined to academic pursuits, found new expression in the strategic environment of the Lithuanian Naval Forces. Even when his severely cracked feet earned him a "flip-flop regime"—a condition some old soldiers viewed as weakness—Alex's quiet strength prevailed. Those who initially tried to diminish him soon recognized his differences as assets that strengthened the team. 

Alex's analytical mind and adaptability caught notice. His dedication to mastering his duties propelled him swiftly through the ranks, leading to his appointment as an RLS operator—a position demanding both sharp intellect and unwavering focus. In quiet moments between shifts, he would often find himself thinking of Anatig, her letters providing an anchor to the life waiting beyond these concrete walls of discipline. 

As Alex served his time dutifully, almost at the end of his term a breaking point came after sixty-eight grueling days in his guard duty without leave. Sleep deprivation had become a constant companion, with only four-hour of sleep a day plus rotations leaving soldiers stumbling through their duties like ghosts. The transition from Soviet-era equipment to modern systems stretched both resources and human endurance to their absolute limits. Standing before his radar screen one night, exhaustion finally betrayed Alex. His momentary lapse resulted in disciplinary action, that sparked something much deeper than mere rebellion.

“We can't go on like this,” said Mike, a friend and fellow soldier, whispered during their cigarette break.  The scar above his right eye caught the faint glow of the lighter as the Baltic waves crashed in the distance, masking their words.  “Someone's going to get killed,” Alex added in the end.

The next morning, tension crackled among the soldiers like electricity. Alex and Mike had spent the night drafting a document that would shake the very foundation of military hierarchy. As they moved from bunk to bunk, collecting signatures from fellow soldiers, each pen stroke felt like an act of revolution. Every signature represented not just protest but trust in Alex's leadership—trust that had been earned through months of shared hardship.  Once the leadership realized what happened the next morning when Alex handed them the document, where every single soldier in the base refused the duties, panic was ignited in the post.  The lieutenant of the headquarters was nowhere to be found suddenly appeared with the sergeants running like gooses without a head forcing soldiers to go back to their duties, threatening everyone with dire consequences.

For a little while things got serious and out of control. Few hours later that same day, the Commander of Naval Forces, known as “The Baltic Rembo,” and his convoy of four military cars burst into a post, straightaway lining everyone up and telling each solider one by one, “Come to my office now!” A serious legendary figure in the Lithuanian naval forces, his obsession with military discipline, adrenaline and the roar of gunfire is the stuff he was known for. Stories travelled far and wide of his naval insignia-covered bedsheets and his penchant for over-the-top displays of firepower, like the time at the training grounds he stood unflinching, dual-wielding MG-3 heavy machine guns as if he were an action hero come to life. He was someone “nobody” wanted to mess with.  

The Commander's office felt like a pressure cooker, the air thick with unvoiced strain that clung to every surface. Alex, alone in the dim light, stood ramrod-stiff, his spine a steel beam, hands locked behind him as if bracing for an unseen blow. The room's dim light did not reveal the full general's facial expression, its walls adorned with military insignias and faded photographs of past glories. The Commander sat behind a massive lieutenants office oak desk, his expression unreadable in the poorly lit room—as he meticulously scanned the document Alex and Mike drafted. The silence stretched, broken only by the faint hum of the radiator and the occasional rustle of paper as the general turned a document page and asked his secretary to leave the room, leaving Alex and him one-on-one. Throat went dry momentarily Alex’s heart started pounding in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears the inner dialog.

Baltic Rambo’ looked straight into Alexe’s eye and spoke.

‘’In fear, everyone including Mike, had folded and withdrew their support of the statement. What about you?

Alex could feel the sweat pooling at the base of his neck, but he refused to let it show. This was no time for weakness.  Finally, the commander set the document down with deliberate slowness, his hands trembling slightly as he folded them on the desk. His eyes, sharp and piercing, locked onto Alex’s. “You understand,” he began, his voice low and measured, “that what you’ve done here is mutiny and treason for your country,” he continued, raising his voice. “Do you know what we do to those who disobey the constitution…who betray their country?” He paused. “Life in an army prison is not pretty.” The Baltic Rambo leaned in and continued in a sarcastic voice, "Do you want me to arrange this for you?” he said, his eyes locked with Alex.  “Do you know what kind of soldiers are there waiting for you?”

His questions hung in the air like a guillotine blade, sharp and final. Alex swallowed hard, his throat dry, but he didn’t flinch. “Sir, I understand,” he replied, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. “But I also understand that the conditions we’re working under are unsustainable, dangerous and unconstitutional.  Sir…” Alex continued, “I personally haven’t had adequate sleep for 68 straight days. I hold shift, guarding my country's air and sea borders…and it’s dangerous.”

The Commander leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving Alex. “Dangerous?” he repeated, his tone laced with mockery. “You think you know what danger is, soldier? Do you believe that you can enter my office with your small petition and preach to me about danger!?”

Alex’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground. “Sir, with all due respect, this isn’t just about me. It’s about all the men. Sixty-eight days without leave, four hours of sleep a night, and no proper rest periods. It’s not just unsustainable—it’s inhumane.” The Commander's face darkened, a vein pulsing at his temple. He rose from his chair, the movement abrupt and forceful, and leaned across the desk, his hands planted firmly on the polished wood. “Do you have any idea what you’re risking, Private?” he barked, his voice rising.

“This is the military, not a democracy. You don’t get to make demands. You follow orders, or you face the consequences.”

Alex felt the heat of the General’s words even in the distance, but he refused to back down. He met the man’s glare with unwavering resolve. “Sir, I’m not here to challenge authority. I’m here to protect my comrades. Someone is going to get killed if this continues.”

The Commander's eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line. He straightened, his hands clasped behind his back as he began to pace the room. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Private,” he said, his tone quieter now but no less menacing. “Do you know what happens to soldiers who think they’re above the chain of command?”

Alex’s stomach churned, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Sir, I’m not above the chain of command. I’m part of it. And as part of it, I have a duty to speak up when something is wrong.”

The general stopped pacing and turned to face Alex, his expression unreadable. For a moment, the room was silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.  Then, the Commander spoke, his voice cold and deliberate. “If you don’t retract this… stunt,” he said, gesturing to the document on his desk, “I will personally see to it that you’re court-martialled. You’ll lose your rank, your reputation, and any chance of a future in this military. Do you understand me?”

Alex’s heart sank, but he didn’t waver. He took a deep breath, his hands clenching behind his back. “Sir, I understand the risks,” he said, his voice firm. “But I also understand my responsibility to my fellow soldiers. I can’t retract the truth, even knowing that everyone else did.”

The general’s face reddened, his fists clenching at his sides. “You’re a fool, Private,” he spat. “A damn fool! Get out of my office!”

Alex saluted sharply.  His movements were precise despite the turmoil inside him. “Yes, sir!” he said, his voice steady. He turned on his heels and marched out of the office, his boots echoing against the cold, hard floor. As the door closed behind him, Alex exhaled shakily, his composure cracking for just a moment. He knew the consequences of his actions would be severe, but he also knew he had done the right thing, even if it didn't feel that way. The document was destroyed, one signature changed nothing, Alex is ignored. The soul-loud of the rebellion, the lost trust of his comrades because of fear to stand their ground, and the looming threat of punishment all weighed down heavily on his shoulders. But as he walked back to the barracks, his resolve only hardened. He had stood up for what was right, and no matter the cost, he wouldn’t regret it, even if he faced jail.

Divide and conquer—only 11 weeks left and punishment was swift. New soldiers had begun to arrive, and soon after, Alex was getting more days off than shift. Soon thereafter, he was demoted in front of all the new soldiers, and his friend Mike was sent to a different location. At that point, Alex stopped caring. He knew he had done the right thing, and the only possible outcome was that of a power struggle from a man who knew deep down inside that Alex was right—but still did everything in his power to prove that he wasn't. Soon the military boots that had carried him through a year of service now echoed with a heavy hollow, and were left in the unit against a familiar stairwell that reminded him of his old apartment building.  His military career was coming to a staggering end. On the day of his discharge, Alex felt his heart lift with newfound freedom as he climbed the final steps away from the army’s rigid embrace, the last military buildings fading behind him. The weight of his military duffel bag slung over his shoulder reminded him of how profoundly he had changed—a strength forged in discipline and trials. He carried the thought of a light beside him, the girl who had waited for him through it all, a guiding light of hope pulling him forward. Yet, as he approached his old block of flats, his joy began to dim. The familiar building loomed unchanged, a relic of the life he’d left behind. When he turned the key in the lock, a sharp whiff of alcohol and tobacco seeped through the door’s crack, confirming that nothing here had truly shifted—only the world within him had transformed. The same flat, the same stepfather, the same old demons awaited, lurking until he could find a way out. Inside, his stepfather’s presence cast long shadows, though tempered by an unexpected gesture of respect. The man who hadn’t once visited during Alex’s service now nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes betraying something new—perhaps pride, perhaps shame, or perhaps a grudging respect. Alex stood taller, the weight of his bag a reminder to his growth, knowing that while the world around him remained static, he was no longer the same. 

“Welcome back, soldier,” his stepfather muttered, raising his hand in a mock salute. Alex moved silently to his old room, the space feeling simultaneously smaller and larger than he remembered. The walls still held the same posters, the desk still cluttered with remnants of his pre-army life. However, right now, these familiar surroundings felt like a museum of his former self, a self that had changed thanks to military discipline and the promise of love. Sitting on his bed, Alex pulled out the picture of him and Anatig. While he was in the army, he visited his real father, a stark reminder of how different and the same they were. The words on the back of the picture had sustained him through the grueling military year. The words, 'I will always wait for you,' filled with unwavering support and stimulated dreams of a future together, had been his anchor during the darkest nights of service.

 Back in the ground zero’ flat, where stale air clung to old wounds, Anatig’s writing on the back of the photo burned with new meaning. They weren’t mere words; they were a lifeline, tethering Alex across the ruins of his past to a future he dared to shape.

“I won’t let the past chain me,” he whispered, fingers grazing her handwriting like a pulse.

The army had forged him anew, etching discipline into his marrow and igniting a courage he’d never known: the will to carve his own path. All he needed now was a job—the first step on a road he’d walk not alone, but with her by his side.

NEXT WEEK! Chapter 14: The Price of Security

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