Searching for a barber: studying p2 by thadeusz

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This is part 2 of a 3 parts story and it is important to read them in good order
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The next day started early with the roll call. Wake up, called here "Reveille", was early: at 5:30 am ! We were woken up by the dreadful sound of a bugle. Our Corporal told us to hurry up. He showed us a room next to our dorm with 6 washbasins and 3 toilets. The walls and floor of this room were covered with tiles which, the Corporal told us, had to be cleaned everyday: "Your washroom must be perfectly clean every morning when you leave the room." He added that two boys, sorry two ‘Drummers’, had to clean the washroom after our passage and that our washing had to be completed in 15 minutes. In fact he said: "Drummers, you have 30 minutes to be clean and dressed for the day in complete uniform. This includes the time you need to prepare your bed and clean your room."
I had slept in undies, some of my comrades slept in the nude, but we were all ready at 6 am ! Something I had never done : being ready so rapidly and so early. The drum started then with its repetitive rhythm and we were told to go, marching in step with the drum, to the main courtyard where we had again to be "in formation". Each section had its own corporal who showed us how to behave, salute, move and stand still in a military way. I noticed that my comrades easily followed the rhythm imposed by the drum, while I kept trying to resist a tendency to do the same. My section corporal came near me, with a stick, and told me:
"I am going to help you with marching in step."
He used his stick to add to each sound of the Drum a knock on my shaved head and continued:
"If you don’t learn rapidly it will be …" as threatening words.

Then came the roll call. The Sergeant told us what we had to expect and how we were supposed to answer. Up to a certain extent, it was fun to be called "Drummer 205.176 Botcharov Sacha" and to have to answer "Drummer two ,zero, five, one, seven, six present and at your command, Sergeant."

During the rest of the day, we learned more about the proper way for a soldier to move and salute a superior. We also learned about military ranks and our future role in the Army as soldiers. This was repeated during a whole week. I had understood from the very beginning and I think I did well, but these repetitions were necessary for some of my new colleagues.

Then came Sunday and again we had a severe headshave (extra severe for me at the Sergeant’s request), a trip to the disinfection cabin and a shower. After that, we were "free on barrack", which meant that except for meals we could do whatever we wanted as long as we showed respect for the uniform we were now wearing.

The next day, we left the barracks and we went where the field exercise would take place. Before leaving the barracks, each of us received a soldier bag in which we had to place our clothes and a sleeping bag. On top of this we got a half tent and whatever was needed to eat in the field. We were told to jump into trucks which brought us inside a big military camp. The advantage for our leaders was that this camp had lots of space for us to train and … was under constant surveillance, and this prohibited me to escape.

I had no choice than to stay with my comrades. I shared my half tent with Piotr, sorry with Drummer 205.174. During these three weeks we learned lots of important things for a future soldier, and not interesting for me, but which I knew now to be part of my fate. We learned all about the basic commands and actions. We learned more about the ranks in the Army and promotions for us if we behaved well. Finally we trained to march with our bag full of stones, to run, and other great things I disliked. Piotr loved it ! We had long discussions about it at night in our tent. I had to admit that this life with my new friends was not as bad as I thought it would be, but still this regimental and very disciplined life was not the life I had dreamed of.

Every day we washed using cold water, and for those who already needed it, they shaved using cold water. Once a week, each of us was once again disinfected with a big hose. We then had to take a cold shower with soap and inspection of the parts that were really washed. Immediately after that, we were more or less thrown into the hands of the camp barber who shaved our head once more. In my case, it was still a "special headshave". Some of my comrades got the same punishment for some minor bad behaviour.

After all, with the exception of this cold shower and of the head shave, this "summer camp" was not too bad to end a summer holiday. My only problem was that I was not allowed to communicate with the outside world, nor were my comrades. But after all, with whom should I communicate ? My former school friends had probably forgotten me, and my grandparents had rejected me. I decided that as soon as we would be back to our barracks, I would insist on at least having a short contact with my grandparents who were my last family. In fact I hoped to be allowed to rejoin them during some form of holidays.

We came back to the barracks, late on the Saturday ending my fourth week of stay in the Army. After all, I was reassured with the very relative comfort we had there. The next morning started as usual for a Sunday: severe and brutal head shave for me, disinfection, cold shower with soap everywhere and inspection.

After breakfast, we received more equipment. Among other things, we got our classroom uniform, which also served as ceremony uniform. First there were white cotton shirts without collars but with three buttons on the top only, one to keep what served as collar closed. The two others just below. The rest of the front was made in one piece, which implied that we had to pass the shirt above our head. Then a khaki uniform in thick cloth, stiff and scratchy. The trousers were rather wide and held by braces, but scratchy as the rest. The vest was made in one piece, like the shirt except that it had a very high and stiff collar reinforced with cardboard to keep it always standing. This forced me to keep my head straight, which was maybe the purpose of this high and rigid collar. We also had shoulder boards with copper buttons like a real soldier (but after all, that’s what we were even if I did not want to admit it yet). The sleeves were also wide but buttoned very closely at the cuffs which made it uncomfortable for the writs, as if we had some kind of "wrist collar". All these buttons were shiny, probably in copper, and they had to be cleaned every day. To complete the uniform, we received a solid and large white leather belt, white gaiters and black heavy Army boots. The whole lot had also to be kept perfectly clean every day.

My main problem was the collar of my vest: it was very uncomfortable. In fact I had been very well nourished first by my parents and later when I was with my maternal grandparents, my grandmother gave me lots of solid and fattening food. As a result of all that, my neck was rather thick. Certainly too thick for a soldier, as the Sergeant told me. Piotr and Dmitri did not have the same problem: they had been hungry. They were thin but tough. The Sergeant told me:
"Your neck is still too fatty ? Eat less than we give you and your problem will be solved. It will be the same for your soldier collar".
This did not reassure me as to my future, since I liked to eat ! But I had to admit that after three weeks of camp food and exercises, my dog collar, sorry "soldier collar" did no longer hinder me as much as it did on the very first day.

My Matricule was printed above my left breast pocket and I received another badge to put on the right pocket. I also received a khaki cover: a forage cap with a double central fold which enabled each of the new Drummers to adapt it to his head. In front of the cover was the usual badge, also in shining copper. Provisionally, we were not allowed to wear this cover: there was a short ceremony during which we officially received our forage cap. The Captain placed it formally on each head and congratulated each of us for his "good start in the military". We were then free to go to (in ranks) to lunch and to chat there with our friends.

We were told that we would have free time inside the barracks to rest after this hard field training. After lunch we were herded to the classrooms. I was ready to sit where my Matricule indicated I shout be. There we received our study books for the school year to come. Those who had a relative in town, or elsewhere, were allowed to write a single letter to this relative if he felt like it.

I wrote a letter to my grandparents telling them how dreadful this place was. I told them that I regretted not to have respected my grandfather’s instruction to "stay in the center of the town". I added that I did not want to show them any disrespect and I asked them to come and visit me since I was no longer allowed to go outside the barracks, or to ask my Captain the permission to take me for a day or so at their place since my barracks were so unpleasant and life here was dreadful. I thought that I had carefully written a letter of apologies which would not be considered as disrespectful by my military chiefs. I folded my letter in four and placed it in an open envelope, as we had been told. My friend Piotr told me that my letter, as it was, would not be sent out of the base: "It was a very bad idea to tell your grandparents that this place is bad: that’s where they want you to stay. You are never going to get out of the military. I thought you had understood that ! My friend Sacha, you have been press ganged and that is for your good. They will keep you for years now. It is your fate, as well as mine, accept it."

Piotr repeated that he was glad he now had such a nice opportunity: "Remember what I told you before. I will have the possibility to learn a little bit (although I know I am very stupid), have food every day and a shelter every night. I know already that I will have a good job as a soldier as soon as I reach 18."
Dmitri said that he was in the same spirit and I kept claiming that I did not want to become a soldier. Then we started to read our books.

About one hour later I was called to the Captain’s office. I went there, not knowing what the Captain wanted. I was rather anxious: could it be that the Captain had read my letter and did not like it ?
I went to this office, automatically checked my uniform, knocked at the door apprehensively and as soon as the Captain had shouted a furious "ENTER", I entered his office and saluted in a military fashion as I had been told to do during field training. I immediately took my forage cap off and put it in my right trousers pocket. Immediately after that, I took the position of attention and shouted: "Drummer 3rd class 205.176 Botcharov Sacha reporting as ordered. At your command Captain." In fact, I was trembling while I said that. There were two other Drummers with me in the Captain’s office : Boris Turgenev and Fedor Kuznetsov.

The Captain looked at us and shouted:
"You are filthy Drummers, the three of you. Each has written a disgusting letter to his relatives. This letter was meant to let your family know that you are in good health and that you are well treated here. Instead of that, each of you complained that this is a bad place and you keep complaining. You are in the Military now, whether you like it or not. This letter amounts to treason. You will be punished in order to learn to respect your own institution. You should be very severely punished, but you are young and still adjusting as well as you can, according to the Sergeant. You will nevertheless be flogged since you are Soldiers now and no longer lost boys. Each of you will get five lashes with the regular knout in front of your comrades and stay two days in total isolation. Report immediately to Sergeant Glazkov who will lash you as mentioned here. DISMISS bad Drummers."

The three of us were now trembling but we succeeded to put our forage cap on our head, to salute the Captain and to make a correct about-face. We left together this damned office and reported to the Sergeant who made us abandon all our clothes. Boris was the first one to be whipped. He was told to hold the punishment bar and take the appropriate standing position: wrists attached to the bar which was raised to force Boris to stand and present completely his back to the Sergeant for the whipping.
That’s when I could see for the first time a real knout. I knew knouts had been used "in the past" with uneducated peasants, but I had never seen one. Now I realized that’s what we were reduced to: uneducated young brutes.
The knout the Sergeant was ready to use was a short whip handle with not one but four leather straps, each of them provided with several knots in order to hurt more the punished soldier. The Sergeant first mentioned the motive of our punishment: "attempted treason", mentioning this motive to all the other young guys who were there waiting in formation. He then told us to take all our clothes except for our boxer, but nothing else, and he started to lash Boris with all his might. Boris back started to bleed and I could not repress to cry in horror. The Sergeant called me next and added: "Since you shouted, you might like this. For you it will be ten of the knout."
As soon as the three "traitors" had been dutifully punished, the Sergeant locked each of us in an isolation cell where we remained during the rest of our three days free time in barracks. My back hurt dreadfully but I did not dare say one more word. During these days in isolation, I started thinking that I should try to behave better (according to the military) if I wanted to survive.

The three of us were released on a wednesday evening, after dinner. The others already knew the basic structure of our timetable: reveille and other military activities early in the morning, then five hours in the classroom, lunch and a short rest, then again two hours classes, a short rest followed by two hours of supervised study. This meant that each Drummer had to remain seated at his assigned place and to study his lessons or make his homework. This was followed by the evening meal (called third mess) and then by unsupervised study.
The difference between supervised and unsupervised study was simple: during the first one a teacher was present and could help by answering questions, but the Drummers had to remain silent unless told to speak by the teacher. In order to ask a question, we had to use a special military procedure: standing next to our table, raising our hand and waiting until the teacher came to help us. Then we had to salute him and take the position of attention to ask, in a low voice, our question. We were not allowed to sit before the teacher told us "At ease, Drummer".
During the unsupervised study each Drummer was left to himself, but these students could discuss together. Playing was strictly forbidden. After that it was bedtime and lights out. On sunday only we had free time in the barracks.

When Piotr explained me that when I came back, during an unsupervised study, I told him:
"This is dreadful, they treat us like monks"
"No, they treat us like what we are: Army cadets without real school knowledge. And you, Sacha, forget your desire to avoid the Army. You must accept by now that you are ‘in it for good’: you are in uniform like the rest of us and every time you disobey, you get a caning which will give you a bad record".
"Don’t be anxious, I figured that while I was in isolation. But is it important to have a bad record, since in any case we are all going to stay here for 30 years. ?"
"The Sergeant told me that the best Drummers will be sent to the NCO academy, while the others will immediately be used as plain soldiers. I hope that we will be in the first group."
"I don’t really care", was my reply, "I hate the Army and I still hope to get out. But I will try to behave well in order to avoid more punishment."

The three following days were devoted to tests: the chiefs wanted to ascertain if we could really start the 10th grade program as our age suggested, or if we had to start at a lower level and be brought up to the 10th grade using all the study time that was allotted to us. I knew it would be easy for me, since I had already been admitted in 11th grade, one year in advance. I did very well on all the tests, Piotr passed barely but he passed. Dmitri failed and had to start with the 9th grade program. Despite that, he said that he did not care as long as he had food, shelter and good clothes.

When the results were known, Sergeant Glazkov announced loudly, to all the cadets gathered in formation, in which grade we should study. When he came to me, he said:
"Drummer 205.176 Botcharov Sacha, 10th grade."
I immediately protested: "But Sergeant, I completed successfully a 10th grade before being press ganged into this school."
The Sergeant, who seemed furious, reacted: "All Drummers 3rd class start at most in 10th grade, and that is your case Botcharov."
I reacted stupidly: "But I deserve to start now immediately in 11th grade. I am not an ordinary Drummer after all." I said that despite the fact that I had realized now that I was locked in my position of Drummer 3rd class.
The Sergeant reacted instantly: "I will teach you what it costs being a rebel like you are. I will make you understand that your master word now is ‘Obey’ and that ‘Discuss’ must be forgotten. You will be flogged now, and by me. You are going to get again 10 lashes of the knout on your naked shoulders and then you will spend 10 days in the brig, with chains."
The Sergeant’s reaction made me shiver. Piotr, who was standing near me, simply said in a low voice: "You had been warned, you’ll get it."
I started to move forward to receive my punishment when one of our teachers, Lieutenant Lermontov, stopped me: "Sergeant, this Drummer did not try to discuss your order, but he really believes that he should be in the 11th grade. We know that it would be against regulations, but he does not. And we don’t want the Army losing a good opportunity."
The Sergeant simply said: "He is a rebel who objected to a direct order. He must be punished as a soldier, since that is what he is now."
The Lieutenant solved the problem: "Let’s say that this Drummer has a severe punishment hanging above his head, but that the execution of this punishment is temporarily suspended since I want to check some facts and then use this Drummer in my class."
That’s when I realized that in the Army a young Lieutenant is always more powerful than an old Sergeant: I was simply told to go back in the ranks knowing that a severe punishment was hanging above my head. That’s also the very moment I decided to be as good a Drummer as I could to avoid the "execution". I also started to secretly hope that I would one day become an officer, like the Lieutenant.

We started classes on the following Monday. It was early in the morning, but immediately after reveille I started to behave as well as I could: I did not want to give the Sergeant any reason to give me the ten lashes he had promised. In class, I really did my best. Lieutenant Lermontov came to me and gave me a school book and said: "I want you to study this during study hours. You will be questioned about it and if I have the impression that you did not read it properly, you will get your ten lashes."
This was more than motivating, so I started to study with all my energy a very serious math book.

I soon realized that my friends Piotr and Dmitri were very bad at school. I tried to help them during unsupervised study time. Dmitri did not want to be helped: he said that he will always know enough to be a good soldier, drinking beers, sleeping with girls but perfectly obeying all orders. He added: "I will fight like a demon whenever I am ordered to do so, and if I die, well, I'll have had a good life."

Piotr, who was closer to me, accepted to try to study. He told me: "I am like Dmitri in a way. If I fail, I will stop studying and never become an NCO."
I worked a lot with Piotr who made significant progress which were observed by the officers giving the courses, but also by the Sergeant. From time to time, Lieutenant Lermontov questioned me about my readings, making sure that I had really understood what I was reading. Every time he gave me more and more to read, always threatening me with the 10 lashes I had deserved.

Every once in a while, one of my comrades graduated to a longer haircut. Dmitri and Piotr were among the first ones to be allowed to have longer hair. As far as I was concerned, the routine remained unchanged: every week it was disinfection, shower and a complete and severe head shave with clippers followed by the old fashioned razor. For this part, the barber did not use foam: he kept using cold water to wet my stubbles. My head was a real billiard ball full of small scars. The barber was not very skillful with the razor, but he was a Corporal and I was soldier enough now to keep quiet whenever he hurt me. I had forgotten how I looked before entering this damned place. But after all was it really so bad a place ? In any case, my parents were dead and I knew now that my maternal grandparents did not like me ! I was a living memory of what they considered as their daughter’s treason.

One day, I woke up feeling really well. Unexpectedly well ! I put on my uniform and closed my high collar really with pleasure. I realized that since a few days, or weeks, my neck was no longer that thick: I could even place a finger between my dog collar and my skin. In fact, I had more or less forgotten this dreadful soldier collar. I was smiling during sports and breakfast. It is like that that I arrived in the main courtyard for formation, just before going to classes. I was smiling non stop. The Sergeant saw me in that state and asked: "Are you kidding me, Drummer 205.176. ?"
"No Sergeant, I simply feel happy today."
"Why, Drummer ?"
"For no reason Sergeant, maybe just because I feel well in my classroom uniform."
"We are going to change all that. Remember: a severe punishment is hanging above your head. Keep behaving well or I’ll have the joy to flog you. This is a good day to make that smile disappear."
Maybe you won’t believe me, but the only thing I could say for my defense was: "At your command, Sergeant."
I knew now that I was going to receive the knout and I was no longer afraid of that: as a soldier I was ready for everything my Sergeant would decide. I don’t know what I had done, but I was now ready for it.

The Captain appeared in front of all of us and said: "Drummer 205.176, you worked well with Drummer 205.174", (that is Piotr) "and you made significant progress in the 11th grade program. You were right, you did not belong to the 10th grade, but you do belong to the Corps of Drummers. I decided that today you graduate to a longer haircut."

I was very happy that day and I worked as hard as I could in class and during the study hours with my friend Piotr.

A few days later, we were told that there would be a one week field training, with a suspension of all classes. The Sergeant told us that before that there would be a serious inspection of our cupboards and that "all the faulty Drummers would be very seriously punished." Going out of the barracks for a full week appeared now as if it were a holiday and I was really pleased with this announcement. The problem is that I did not pay enough attention to the inspection promised by the Sergeant. During the inspection he noticed that my cupboard was not perfectly in order and worse that my belt and my gaiters were not perfectly white. To make things worse, my classroom shoes were not perfectly clean, at least according to the Sergeant’s standard. I could not contest what he had noticed: I had been sloppy and I knew, as a now more disciplined Drummer, that there would be a price to pay. In the 2nd section, two other Drummers were in the same situation, and one more in the 3rd section. Among them was Drummer Boris Turgenev, who had been, before me, the first to get a taste of this dreadful knout. The Sergeant called the Captain who announced the sanction:
"The sloppy Drummers will receive 5 of the knout and spend two days in isolation with food restriction, which means only bread and water. Drummer Turgenev, who knows what the knout is, will receive 10 lashes and spend 5 days in isolation."
I was afraid that there would be a special treat for me !
The Captain turned towards me and said:
"Drummer 205.176, you are a really bad soldier. There was a punishment hanging above your head. It was suspended, but now you will get it. For you, it will be 10 of the knout and 10 days in an isolation cell with chains on your ankles and on your wrists, and also on your soldier collar. You will not participate in the field training session and that will be noted on your military file. From now on you are back to full shave every week."

So shortly after having graduated to longer hair as the last one of my section, I was back to the severe head shaving status I had known until then. This time there was a difference: before that I could consider that I did not deserve this status, but now I knew that I was at fault and I accepted this punishment, hoping that the whip would not be too painful and that this hair shaving situation would not last very long.

The four punished Drummers (this includes me) were taken to the "punishment bar" in front of all the other drummers, who were looking while in formation. We were told to take all our clothes off, except our briefs. One at a time, we were chained to this bar which was placed in such a way that we had to stand erect. The Sergeant whipped nearly gently the first ones. When it was Turgenev’s turn, he changed attitude and became violent with his knout, and he continued to behave like that with me. That was dreadfully painful. He counted loudly 1, 2, 3, until he reached 10. He did it slowly and it is thus slowly that I received the promised and deserved punishment. As soon as he was done, a Corporal placed shackles on my feet and handcuffs on my hands, but not on the other punished Drummers’s feet or hands. The Sergeant added a chain to the small ring fixed in my dog collar. He even told me:
"I warned you that one day I would place a leash on your dog collar, you bad Drummer !"
The other punished Drummers did not receive the same treatment. Our comrades, still in formation, were dreadfully silent while we were punished and then led to our cells. I am not going to describe these miserable cells, but I had to stay there for 10 days while my comrades had fun during their field training. I don’t know for the others, since we were isolated, but my collar chain was fixed to a big ring attached to the wall. Guards were constantly checking on us since there was no door, only a grid. There was no privacy during this punishment. I will never forget it. That’s exactly where and when I realized that I was now really a soldier and that as such I had to obey all orders and be permanently ready, personally and with my kit.

On the very day I was freed from my chains, I decided to be an even better Drummer, but I now had a very bad reputation. Piotr had warned me: I was the Drummer with the worst record.
Despite that, I kept studying my 10th grade and my 11th grade courses, helping Piotr and trying to help Dmitri despite his decision not to study. It worked well with Piotr but it was more difficult with Dmitri, who nevertheless got better and better at school. Moreover, I took great care of my kit, as a good soldier should do and I behaved as well as I could during the military instruction. This took all my time and I had no opportunity left to complain about my "fate" and the fact that I was now in the Army. It was a totally new routine for me and I did not have any regret anymore.

This does not mean that the Sergeant left me at peace: he checked constantly on me and on other Drummers who had been punished several times. I had the impression that he was waiting for our breaches. Each time he found one, he punished us and the only form of punishment he knew was the knout. I must admit that we, the "bad drummers" did all we could to avoid these punishments. I know now that our Sergeant was correct: he made us good and obedient soldiers despite our initial tendency to disobey as much as possible.

After the end of our first year as Drummers, we had all to take tests concerning our school results.
Dmitri failed, which he expected. But his military behaviour was excellent: he was thus told to stop studying with us. He could no longer hope to have his regular highschool diploma, but he was told to train as a future mechanic, which was another form of diploma. He told us that he would love to be a military mechanic and driver.
Piotr got a pass for his scholarly tests and an excellent for his military behaviour. He was ordered to continue and try to get a position as NCO.
I passed not only all my 10th grade tests, but also my 11th grade tests. Despite that, my military behaviour was rated as "unsatisfactory". This hurt me: since my big flogging, I had done my best. I had only been punished for minor infractions. My military behaviour was now nearly as good as Piotr’s … but I now had a bad record. Piotr tried to motivate me to work even better, but I was completely demotivated, if I had ever been motivated ! Nevertheless, I decided to behave as a good soldier.

During our second year, now as Drummers 2nd class, Piotr continued to be one of the best students and certainly the best soldier.
Dmitri gave the full extent of his talent as mechanic, driver and soldier. Now that he was rid of classroom exercises, he seemed much better.
I did my best as a soldier, but did not see why I should keep studying since my future was probably completely closed. I had loved studying, but since that would not lead me to anything, I stopped learning.

At the end of this year, Dmitri and Piotr were in a good position. On the contrary, I was told to stop going to classes. Instead of that, with 6 other "bad Drummers" (including my new friend Turgenev), I was ordered to train to become an ordinary, plain field soldier. Nevertheless, we were still friends, Piotr, Dmitri and me. We had lived and slept in the same room since two full years now !

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