My name is Antonios Koutouzis. I am from Lamia. I have, from my father, the blacksmith's workshop at the entrance of the town. And he, inherited it from his grandfather. Iron is our destiny.
I know enough literacy. I finished primary school. I used to do well, but I didn't like it. I have always liked fire, the heated iron.
My anvil weighed a hundred kilos, but that was not enough. I volunteered to go to the front. I arrived at Eskisehir. I raped, killed, burned ancestral lands, set fire to bloodlines. When the Turks broke the front during their retreat, I was seized by rage, demolishing everything day and night.
In Eiyuret and Uludja, the lands recognized me, the mothers cursed me. I was with Trikoupis, timid brats hid, longing for the sea. I fought for five days, dragging blood and fire, and in the end, I was wounded. They left me in the valley of Ali Varan, the Turks slaughtered me. But I do not regret it.
Years later, I will burn Aleppo and Beirut. I will reach Palmyra. No one will stop me. Neither the Euphrates nor anyone else.
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