The Belgian student of Russian literatur by thadeusz

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My parents, Pieter and Maria Pronen christened me Thomas but always called me Tom. We lived in Brussels where my father had a small job as a printer and my mother worked as a cleaning lady in houses. They were Dutch speaking people.

I kept my hair relatively free: when they grew, I let them go. But as soon as they were so long that they fell over my eyes, I went to the barber and told him to "cut it all short". So, I never had it too long but I never had it reduced to zero like some of my friends did.

When I reached 18, I had my highschool diploma and started College in the Dutch speaking University in Brussels. I had luckily a scholarship from the friends of the University and was able to study a domain that interested me: linguistics. I had then a collar-like beard of even length and a thick mustache.

I had to write an end of studies work to get my diploma and, since I liked Dostoiëvsky’s "The brothers Karamazov" (which I had read in Dutch) my advisor suggested that I should write my work on this author. It was then that I discovered the wonderful Russian literature of the XIXth century.

My advisor convinced me to specialize in XIXth century literature, more specifically in slave literature of that period and get a PhD in this domain. I started, but my father died of a heart attack and my mother died soon after. Friends said that she was exhausted, but I know she died of a special disease: lost love. I was thus alone in life, without money and I had to work to earn a living. Luckily, my advisor found a scholarship from Russian origin which would enable me to keep studying.

He told me that I had to read these books in Russian and got for me a two year visa for Russia and an admission there to a university in Moscow, admission associated with my new Russian scholarship.

I went to Moscow where I was enrolled for two years of studies in Russian literature. I started to study, but after one month there I was called by the President of the University. He told me that a new law had been passed: all students enrolled for one year or more must be in uniform, a uniform inspired by the Army uniform. They must also accomplish a sort of volunteer military service. He told me:
"Thomas, you will now go to the University Military department and enlist in this volunteer military service."
"But, President, I am not a Russian. I am a Belgian citizen."
"Either you accept to do what you are told, or you immediately leave the country."
"But I have no other place to go and study."
"In that case, I have no other possibility than letting the Police arrest you immediately and proceed to your expulsion after a fast judgment."

The President pushed on a button and two policemen in uniform entered his office. They quickly got hold of me, forced me to place my hands on my back and handcuffed me. They pushed me then into a minibus where my handcuffs were attached to a chain hanging from the ceiling. Finally they put a black eye-covering on my head and the bus started to roll. I was frightened as hell having heard stories about the reputation of the Moscow Police.

Finally, the mini bus stopped and I was extracted from it, still handcuffed. I was in the courtyard of a big building with high walls and I assumed that this was a prison. I was right !

I was led to a small room where my name and address were noted. The communication was difficult, because of my bad knowledge of Russian, but a Russian policeman tried successfully to speak English with me. I was then deprived of all my clothes and possessions: I have never seen them again, and this includes the watch my Grandfather gave me when I celebrated my Entry in the Catholic Church as an adult at 13. I also had a little Cross which my mother had given me at the age of 7. This cross was hanging on a chain from my neck and one of the young guards told me to make the sign of the cross. I automatically did it in the catholic way and not in the orthodox way. At that moment, a guard ripped my cross off my neck.

It was thus completely naked that I was measured, weighed, and photographed. I was still naked when they disinfected me with a white powder. I was also searched, including in my private parts. Finally, I received a black pajama without any undies. I was forced to sit on a small chair and my long black hair was reduced to zero, even less than zero.

This haircut was administered by the young policeman who had ripped my cross from my neck. He seemed to like what he was doing. He first pushed my head forward, in order to let my chin touch my chest. He then started rather brutally to let his clippers go from front to top of my head and then from top to nape. He said something in Russian. I now guess that it was "let’s give him a cross". He immediately changed direction and moved his clippers from my left ear to my right ear, while pushing my head from one shoulder to another. I hated that but I was too frightened to say anything. Suddenly, the young policeman stopped. A chief policeman had entered the room: he was obviously a chief because all the others saluted him in a military way, or at least in what I thought was a military way. I now know that it was only a police fashion.

This apparently powerful man started to shout something and the man who was shaving me started, painfully, to explain something. Finally, the chief told me in English:
"This guard wanted to make fun of you, I told him to obey the orders and he will simply shave you to the bone" (he meant that the man was going to give me a baldy)

I was shaved in such a way that not a hair, not a stubble was left on my head. The guards went on and started to completely shave my face, my beard and my mustache. A new photograph was then taken, I assume that it was done to compare the prisoner before and after he was arrested. I was told to pass my hands on my face and skull and this confirmed what I had dreaded.

The chief guard made a sign and I obeyed by standing up. My ankles were shackled and my hands were handcuffed in my back. I got again a hood on my head and I was marched through passages I would not recognize now with open eyes. The young policeman -or prison guard- had placed his hands on my shoulders and led me all the way. Finally we reached a cell, the guard pushed me inside and another one took the hood of my head. I was shown, by a guard staying "courageously" inside the cell, to turn my back to the door and place my hands through an opening in the door. The young guard opened the handcuffs through the door opening. The same older guard showed me how to place my feet, one at a time, through an opening in the bottom of the door and the young guy took my shackles off. The guard who was inside my cell had kept a truncheon with him. He hit me with it and pushed me to the far end of the cell while he quickly opened the door and went out.

Later that day I got some grub through the opening foreseen for my feet. It was dreadful but I ate and drank with pleasure, it was my only comfort. After that I noticed some straw in a corner and I decided to lie on it. I was exhausted and I slept till a bell rang, waking me up (and all prisoners also). I waited for the morning grub, which arrived and was just as bad as the previous one.

Later, the same process occurred again, but in the other direction. I had understood now that when the guard opened a little something in the cell door, it was not to chat with me, but simply to let me take the "backwards position" and pass my hands or my feet through this opening.

During my first prison day, I was extracted from my cell for a first interrogation. I did not understand why they did it since they had all the information. At the end of the interrogation, the officer who was questioning me asked me in English:
"Do you really refuse to accomplish a reduced military service as a university student, and that in the country whose government gave you a scholarship ?"
The fact that my scholarship, to study Dostoïeveski and others, had been given by the Russian government was new to me. I did not understand its relevance in this procedure. I replied simply:
"I did not know that my scholarship had been given by the Russian government and I do not understand the relevance of this fact. In any case, I refuse to perform a military service for Russia, even a small one because I am a Belgian citizen. I want to see a representative of my consulate."

After that I was brought back to my cell, handcuffed, shackled and provided with a hood. I remained alone in my cell with very little food in the morning and in the evening, and with very little to drink. According to my account based on the "food service", I remained there for 4 days. I was then brought back to interrogation. It started at zero, with a new interrogator knowing seemingly nothing of my case but speaking excellent English. At the end, I asked once again to have the visit of a representative of my consulate.

After my third interrogation, I finally obtained the right to speak once and only once with a Belgian representative. That meeting occurred on my 8th day in prison. I was still in prison uniform and shackled etc. Before that I had had the "pleasure" to be "shaved" once again. It was good to have once again a shaved face … but without a beard and without my dear mustache. On the other side, it was a pity to have my skull once again completely deprived of any hair, not even the smallest stubble ! I must admit that this time, it was not done as brutally as the first time.

The representative of my consulate was a young guy, slightly older than me. He suggested that I should accept their proposal to accomplish a light military service while studying:
"If you don’t do that, they could charge you and sentence you severely."
"But if I serve in their Army, I risk losing my Belgian nationality."
"Not in this case, you are forced to serve with them. And it will only be a student like training. I guarantee that you will have no problem when you come back to Belgium."

After that, I was left alone in my cell for several days. Finally, I was brought back to the interrogation room where the man in charge, a real bully, started saying:
"Since you refused to serve in our Army, we have no other possibility than to charge you with the crime of desertion. The trial will start tomorrow."
"But I now accept to serve as a student."
"It is too late, the accusation is ready. You will meet your lawyer tomorrow in court."
"I will not have the opportunity to prepare my defense with him before the actual trial ?"
"There is no need for that. You are accused of trying to dodge your military service and to have had negative words for our glorious Army. You are not a deserter but a dreadful dodger. For this double crime, there is only one possible penalty: life in a high security and hard labor prison."
"Life in prison ? But I am only 23, I am a foreign student."
"Serving as a student was offered and you rejected that. Prepare your defense and your reaction to the sentence my boy."
"But I now accept to serve as a real Russian student."
"It is too late. Try to pay for your crime."
And this horrible man left me alone. A guard came and brought me back to my small cell, crying despite the hood.

The next day, I was brought to court still handcuffed and shackled. I was of course wearing my eye-covering hood. Once in court, which was in the same building as the cell, I was placed in a real cage, but deprived of shackles, handcuffs and hood. The court had provided a Russian lawyer for me. Luckily, the Consulate had provided me with a translator accepted by the court. My contact in the consulate was also present.

The accusation started to describe my "crimes" and he presented to the Judge the accusations he had formulated during our conversation. He concluded by asking the court to sentence me to life in a high security and hard labor prison.

My lawyer said something in Russian, but I did not understand what he actually said. Anyway the interpreter told me that he has asked for clemency since I was a young and immature boy. The Judge looked more paternal than repressive. He said lots of things in Russian and summarized it in English, addressing himself directly to me as follows:
"I don’t think that the accusation of using ‘negative words to represent our Army’ is really founded. I thus reject this accusation. Nevertheless the accusation of trying to dodge your military service is founded. A law requires each student staying for more than one year in our universities to accomplish a minimal service and you refused to do this. I must thus sentence you to 10 years hard labor in a special prison with a special harsh discipline. But the above mentioned law mentions also the possibility for the student to redeem himself by accomplishing a complete two year military service instead of the reduced one foreseen for students. I will thus first ask you: my boy, do you want to serve our glorious Army for two years ?"
I looked at the envoy of the consulate who gave me a sign clearly meaning "Say yes."
I thus replied to the question asked by the Judge:
"Yes your honor, I apologize but I had not understood the meaning of the new law."
"We are thus concluding this trial by saying that you were simply stupid, which is not a crime."
The judge ordered then that I be immediately set free. I received back my civilian clothes and my cellphone but my watch and my cross appeared to have "disappeared". Anyway, I was glad that this nightmare was finished.

The representative of the consulate told me that I would now be forced to join the Russian armed forces, but that this would not matter for the Belgians. He nevertheless told me to be very careful and avoid signing any document that could give the impression that I volunteered to join the Russian army.

I had hoped to be able to get out of the country before my call to the Army arrived, but a man in a military uniform appeared from nowhere and took me by the arm as soon as I was out of my cage and in civilian clothes. He took me immediately to a barrack where I was formally incorporated.

I was led to the barracks induction center where I had to leave all my civilian clothes and my cellphone ! I received a rather uncomfortable Army summer uniform. This uniform was green: undies, pants and vest, everything was green. The T-shirts were striped: horizontal blue and white stripes showing clearly that we were only apprentice soldiers, with a reduced pay. The socks were black knee high socks and the lot was complete with a green cap and high black boots. There were inscriptions on the uniform, but they were in cyrillic alphabet and I could not read them. I was told that one of them, repeated in several places, was the name of my regiment, the 41st training regiment. The other, which appeared only once, was my name followed by my number: TR41.195.782 and that was it. I was also supposed to have a severe induction cut, but considering what the prison barber had left it was simply a smooth refreshing cut. Anyway, after that, I was completely bald once again.

Military training was very hard. I was there with young Russian soldiers aged 17 or 18 while I was already 23. Understanding them was difficult at first, but I had always been good at languages and after all I had come to Russia to learn the Russian language. I did my best, but it was a very uneducated language: none of these young guys had studied further than 18 years and most did not have a high school diploma. I did my best to adapt to their uses, basically to their ways to drink huge quantities of cheap alcohol.

We were 20 and we lived in a big dorm and each of us had only his bunk, his cover (only one, it was summer) and a metallic trunk placed, according to the rules, at the bottom of the bunk. That was the place where we ate all our meals, seated on our bunk. This was also the place where we drank and where we had our "recreation", my comrades loved to play stupid children word games (we only had our own words). I had no book, which was a change to the worst, but I managed to survive this and was easily adopted by my comrades.

The real training occurred outside, in the courtyard. The regiment, my training regiment TR41, was somewhere in the center of Russia. The weather was very hot and very dry, which made training even more difficult. We had to learn to march in a proper military way, to salute and obey orders without hesitation. We also had to do lots of sports: walking, running with a heavy load, climbing, etc. I survived this harsh basic training despite my bad understanding of the language (but with the friendly help of my younger comrades) and the hatred of my training Corporal: this man kept giving me undeserved punishments. He kept ordering me to clean our room, he added to that the fact that, according to him, I had not done my duty. This resulted in days in the brig and several times he ordered me to receive blows of the knout, a dreadful instrument.

My training Corporal required me, and not the other recruits, to have a severe induction cut every week. He tried to separate me from my comrades giving the impression that I was "only" a foreigner, thus an inferior. But the guys with whom I had been inducted did not like that: for them I was a soldier like they were. In fact, we were brothers in misery, but they did not really see the misery. For them, all that was normal since they said that they came from a lower class. Some even admired me for choosing to serve with them despite the fact that I had studied and was thus "officer material".

In any case, there was nothing to do on our base during the weekend and none of us was allowed to leave the base even for five minutes. We were not allowed to communicate with the outside world (no cellphone) during the 4 months of basic training.

I graduated, with my friends, from basic training. Each of us had then to appear in front of the Colonel and many of my comrades were very impressed by this "important man": he was a chief and in nowadays Russia, it was and still is still important. When it was my turn to appear, I did my best to behave as a good and real soldier: I had no other possibility. The Colonel simply told me:
"You are the foreigner who wanted to dodge the military service invented for University students ?"
"YES, Colonel."
"Well, this is not a university and you will accomplish your complete duty, Soldier."
"YES, Colonel."
"According to your Corporal, you did not behave very well during instruction. I will thus send you to a regiment with a severe regime. You will go to a Base in northern Siberia, near the Artic sea, without communication with the rest of Russia".
I saluted, made an about turn and told this to my friends who were sad for me: they had all been sent to a regiment close to the place where they lived.

I did not like this situation especially with the Corporal’s report. Nevertheless, I counted: "24 months of compulsory service, 4 months of basic training, remaining only 20 gastly months".

I was shipped by military train to my new regiment where I received lots of additional equipment in exchange for my training equipment which was now useless and thus recycled.

The basic uniform was very similar to the training one, except that it was in a material which had been coloured according to a digital pattern. The T-shirts were kaki. Socks and boots were identical (in fact I kept the former ones). On top of that I received additional and bulky equipment for cold weather which included a fur cap with special protections for the ears. The number of the regiment had of course been changed, but my personal identifier remained the same: I had thus to introduce myself as "Private AS152-195.782".

The new "light" uniform had a great advantage on the previous one: it had numerous pockets, on the sides of the vest, on the interior of the vest, on the front of the vest, and on the trousers. There were pockets on the usual places for a pair of trousers, plus two side pockets on the legs themselves. Most of these advantages were lost in the bulky cold weather uniform.

As far as lodgings were concerned, they were very similar to the previous ones, except that they were even more rigorous. There were 40 soldiers in my group. Some had been lured to volunteer for that regiment in exchange for a better pay, but most (and that was my case) were soldiers doing their military service and sent to that dreadful regiment because of a bad report from one single Corporal in their training regiment. It was a sort of punishment because we had been too intelligent or too independent during basic training. As a consequence we got a much lower pay while doing the same work as the others. Nevertheless, we managed to live together as brothers in arms. In fact, we all lived in a very big dorm: 40 soldiers together, 20 on each side of a central path. Each of us had his bunk. The heads were alternately against the wall or near the center passage "to let soldiers sleep better and avoid night discussions". My bedding was with my head against the wall. I had no cupboard but a metallic trunk with a top but no lock. This enabled our superiors to make regular searches through our trunks. My boots had to be placed underneath my bunk. I had to place all my things on the left of the bunk when I was looking from the central passage. To complete the bedding, let me say that we had enough covers but no pillow: it was actually warm inside but there was no air and all the light was artificial, but we had a sort of artificial aeration.

The group was in fact divided in 8 subgroups of 5, each time there was one Corporal and 4 Privates. 4 subgroups formed a section commanded by a Sergeant. There were thus two Sergeants for our dorm and I happened to be in the section of SGT Sobolev, immediately under the orders of CPL Vorontsov, on bunk 3 of the squad.

On my first day there, SGT Sobolev told me to go immediately to the barber and after that to introduce myself to the Colonel commanding the base: he had a report on me and wanted to see me.

I rushed to the barber: when you are a soldier, and in my case assimilated to a Russian soldier, you don’t let your Colonel wait for you. The barber did his job after noticing that I had already been shaved while I was in my training regiment. This barber was not a brute, but a talkative soldier (in fact a Corporal). He had heard that I was not a real Russian and he wanted to know where I came from and why. I gave him the information he wanted while he started to use his clippers to shave me the usual way. I mean the way I was used to now. He started from the center of the front, then on the left of his first track and later farther, pushing my head on my right shoulder. After that he repeated the process on the other side of the head and finally on the back. He took smaller clippers to clean my ears (and everything around them) and my nose, including a special visit to my deceased mustache. After that, I was not bald but I only had small stubbles to cover my head. Luckily, I also had my fur hat.

After paying the barber (in Russia, you pay for a compulsory visit to the barber), I rushed to the Colonel office where I respectfully knocked on the door. I heard something which sounded like "Come in" in Russian. I entered, saluted in the best possible way, took off my fur hat and placed it in my right pocket and remained there in the position of attention. The Colonel looked at me, stood up and started to turn around me while I remained immobile. He then suddenly asked (in Russian):
"Did you do your military service in your home country ?"
I tried to reply in my best Russian:
"No Colonel, there is no military service there."
"Where did you then learn how to behave the way you do ?"
"Colonel, in my training regiment."
"That does not seem to be too bad, soldier. There is only one thing you forgot: your matricule number. We will skip that for today."
Suddenly the Colonel switched to English and continued:
"So you came here to learn Russian and to study our great writers ?"
"YES Colonel."
"How come you are a soldier now ?"
"Colonel, this Private has to respect the Russian law."
"Do you like it ?"
"NO Colonel, but this private must do it by decision of a court."
"I know Private, I know your adventures. But how come you behave that well ? I received a report from your training regiment saying you are a bad soldier and a bad example for your fellow trainees."
"Colonel, this Private did his best to respect all the rules but …" and I stopped, knowing I should not say that a Corporal was a bad person. Luckily, the Colonel continued:
"But your Corporal made bad reports on you, and nobody knows why. So you have been sent here and I wanted to test you. As far as I am concerned, your behavior is good. Keep behaving like that. DISMISS ! NOW."

I made as good an about turn as I was able to do and I left this office, slightly trembling but not showing that.

I lived with all the other boys and we rapidly became friends. We shared everything and I rapidly learned a lot of spoken Russian. In fact it was lower class, popular spoken Russian, but it was better than nothing and after a few months I knew enough to speak nearly like a native speaker: I have always been good in languages and that’s why I started the studies I did.

My new friends knew a lot about card games, but nothing about literature. The only possibility for me was to play with them and simultaneously to learn the cyrillic alphabet in order to be able to read Russian books, later when my military service was finished.

I noticed then that some of my comrades did not know how to read or write. I told them that I might help them, if only they wished to learn. I said that it was easy. They accepted and made great and rapid progress. In the meantime, I performed my duty: stupidly guarding a weapon depot.

About one month before the end of my two year military service, Sergeant Sobolev told me to put on my best uniform, the "light one with a digital pattern" and go rapidly to visit the Colonel. I rushed to the barber and asked him to give me another short induction cut because I had to pay a visit to the Colonel. The barber refused saying that he had been warned that I would come: he had been told by the Colonel himself to let me keep my slightly too long hair. I left him, rather in panic, and rushed to the Colonel’s office. There I repeated the previous process and knocked respectfully on the door. This time I heard clearly, and I understood perfectly, the Colonel saying: "Come in" in Russian. I did as before as far as saluting was concerned, but I was ashamed when I took off my hat because all my rather longish hair became visible. Nevertheless, I went on and reported to the Colonel as should be done. Maybe even better since my knowledge of Russian had progressed compared to the first visit to this office.

The Colonel looked at me, like the first time and said:
"Private, you have long hair."
"YES Colonel."
"Why ?"
"Colonel, I was on duty and forgot to go to the barber. Just before coming here I wanted to have a haircut, but it was too late."
"Private, you will have three days in the brig for that. I don’t want any of my soldiers to neglect his appearance."
"YES Colonel", and I moved to leave the room.
"Did I tell you to DISMISS, Private ?"
"NO Colonel"
"Then stay."
I took the position of attention looking at my Colonel.
"Private, you speak better Russian now than when you came here for the first time. What did you do ?"
"Colonel, I spoke a lot with the Privates in my room. Well … I don’t want to say that it is my own room, it is the room this Private shares with all the Privates of his section, Colonel."
"Good. That was perfectly said, but with a very specific accent. That of a Russian peasant. Is this the way you want to speak Russian, Private ?"
"Colonel, this Private had no other opportunity to learn the pronunciation."
"Well, I offer you one. I know what you did with the other soldiers to help them learn to read and write. That was great. I also know that you lost your scholarship to study our great writers. You do a lot of good work. I offer you now to combine these two activities: work for five more years and, at the end of your military service, you will be sent to Irkoutsk University in the Linguistic department, with a special task: teach young soldiers how to read and write their mother tongue. Now, DISMISS, go to the barber and after that to the brig for three days."
I saluted, pleased about the Colonel’s promise and about his opinion about my work. I went to the barber and got a serious zero cut. After that, I went to the brig where I stayed for three days on bread and water instead of the decent grub we got as a platoon.

When my days in the brig were over, I went back to my platoon and my friends. They asked what had happened and I told them that I had been rightfully punished because my hair was too long. They told me that they also wanted to know why I had been called to the Colonel’s office and I felt I owed them an explanation. So I told them that the Colonel wanted to congratulate me for the work I had done with some of them and also that he had offered me a scholarship to replace the one I had lost. I didn't tell them that if I accepted to do this, I would have to work, as a civilian I imagined, for the Army for 5 years. All my friends congratulated me for my success. I also purposely neglected to tell them that I was now speaking well, but with what the Colonel called "a peasant’s accent".

Life in the regiment continued as before, except that the Colonel called me once more to tell me that his offer had been accepted by "higher authorities" and that I would have to sign a new contract as soon as I reached my new university, which would be chosen by the Army. He specified that this new contract would only start at the date set for the end of my military service. I would then be paid immediately as a Russian volunteer and no longer as a "second class conscript". I was also authorized to leave the barracks for one hour every week and to use my cell phone. I was of course only allowed to call certain people. The Belgian consulate, and my friends in Belgium, were not part of this restricted list, but my Russian professor was on it.

Two days later I was told to prepare all my bags. I saluted the Colonel one last time and I boarded a small military van which took me to Irkoutsk where I was now assigned to the Military Section of the State Linguistic University.

As soon as I arrived there, I was told to go to the President’s office while I was still in uniform. The President, a University professor, simply asked me:
"Did your study on 19th century Russian writers progress ?"
"No, Sir, I could not progress while I was doing my military service", was my polite answer.
In fact, I really wanted to have that PhD thesis and to be able to come back to Belgium with it.
"You still wish to start a thesis now ?"
"Yes, Sir."
"In that case, and since you had a scholarship, we are going to help you. But you will have to work for that. Ready to work in Russia ?"
"Yes, Sir"
There was a man in military uniform seated next to the President. I recognized a Commandant’s uniform. I was also still in uniform, but not for long I hoped. This Commandant started speaking:
"Private, are you aware that in order to get the scholarship that you need, you must first reenlist for five years ?"
Well, I was ready to work in Russia. I had not realized they would require me to reenlist. But if that was my only way to get the thesis I really wanted, I was ready to do it. So I replied, without thinking too much about the consequences:
"YES, Commandant."
"Are you ready to do that now ?"
I really wanted to get that PhD thesis, so I answered as the soldier I temporarily was should do:
"YES, Commandant."
The Commandant then produced a document in Cyrillique which I had no time to read. He told me to sign the document, which I did, and after that he said:
"Private, I congratulate you for joining this time voluntarily. You are now fully a member of our Glorious Army for at least 5 more years. By doing so you will also gain Russian citizenship."
The Commandant saluted and I replied as I had been told.

The Commandant then explained what would be my task in this Military Section. I would have to help all military students in their studies of English and French (languages I knew well) and prepare them to become Russian officers. Thus, at the end of this process my students would become my superiors, but that was Army life and I hoped that I would soon get rid of these obligations and be back in Belgium with a PhD.

The situation was better for me now. There were 19 Privates in our group of students-helpers. The uniform was more or less the same as during my military service, except that the fur hat had been replaced for the hot days by a simple cap in the same apparently digitized pattern as the vest and the trousers. I was now completely used to my uniform and to the cleaning it required permanently.

We slept in a big dorm with large (and isolated) windows. Each of us had his bunk with sheets and hot covers. Each of us even had a pillow which I always pushed on the side now that I had been used to sleeping without anything else than a cover. The room was neither too hot nor too cold, but there were no drapes on the windows: during my military service there were no windows and the electric lamps were giving the wake up and sleeping signals.

Besides that, in another room, each of us had a table with a small lamp to read and write. We were all working on a PhD which would enable us to get a good position, my colleagues and friends, in the Russian Army and me back in Belgium.

Of course, we had to keep our heads "clean". This meant, for me, a serious haircut every week to respect the orders. It was not a brutal zero cut anymore, but simply a buzz cut leaving me with nothing else than stubbles. After all, it was comfortable for my morning cold shower.

Our days were well organized. We woke up early (at 5:30 am) and started with some sports outside, weather permitting, inside otherwise. We then had about 30 min to get washed, dressed and to have cleaned our space to the perfection.
Then came the first inspection, each of us standing in the position of attention at the bottom of his bed with his head cover in his right trousers pocket.

The next step was a short breakfast in absolute silence and then classes began, each of us going his way and rejoining the civilian graduate students. After lunch, which was taken in a hall reserved for military students, we started working with undergraduates. I had to help them individually in English and in French. Then came individual research work, dinner in our special hall (speaking was allowed) and finally more individual research work until 22:00 which was "lights out" time. Studying in this organized and structured way appeared rapidly to be fruitful.

After four weeks, I got my first pay and, wonderful, a Saturday afternoon outside pass. I did not have such a pass for two years. I also got (temporarily) my cell phone back. I went out into the big civilian world and, after a long walk, I admired Irkoutsk which is a beautiful city. Suddenly, I had an idea: I called the Belgian consulate at a number which the representative had given me. I told him that my Military service was now over. I did not have any opportunity before to contact him: the consulate is "outside Russia" and as a soldier, I was not allowed to contact a foreigner. I also told him that the Army had given me back my scholarship, provided I reenlisted for five years. The Belgian representative nearly choked to death when he heard that:
"But you did not reenlist, I hope."
"Of course I did. It was the only way for me to have a scholarship to study Dostoïevski and to have some money in my pocket."
"So, you voluntarily became a Russian soldier ?"
"Yes, did I do something wrong ? You told me two years ago that accepting to serve in the Russian Army was not wrong !"
"Two years ago, I told you to accept to serve under duress. This time, you chose freely to remain in the Russian Army, just to have a scholarship. By doing so, you automatically lost your Belgian citizenship. There is no point trying to come back. You are now, at best, a Russian citizen and thus subject to all Russian laws."
"But I did not want that."
"But that’s what you got despite my warning not to sign any new document. Goodbye, Russian soldier."

I was really sad when I heard that, but there was nothing I could do. There was no point in crying now. So I decided to stay and get a good PhD, possibly a good job as a Russian professor now.

This lasted for four years, with several camp duties when we went out with all our equipment and stayed for a few days outside the university. Regularly, one of us got his diploma and a promotion in the Army where he had to serve for several years. We always congratulated him and started to salute him as the superior he was now, usually a Junior Lieutenant.

Finally, I got my diploma. It was a nice piece of paper written in Cyrillic. But I had nearly no money: living in Russia, even in Army barracks, is expensive for a young Private. I still had about one year to serve and I did not know where the Army would send me. I called my embassy, but I was again told that I was no longer a Belgian citizen since I had signed of my own free will an enlistment form in the Russian Army.

Finally, the Commandant of our unit made me an offer. He told me:
"Private Pronen, you could enlist again for five years in the Russian Army. You would serve as a teacher in a Junior Army Highschool. You would be promoted to Sergeant, but as such you would have to remain constantly in the barracks to check what the young cadets are doing. Of course you could ask for short leaves, once a week."
"But, Commandant, all my other friends became officers when they got their diploma."
"Certainly, Private Pronen, but they were Russians."
"Commandant, I am no longer a Belgian."
"Your future Colonel will decide when and how you could become a Russian citizen. So, it is take it or leave it: either a Sergeant contract and remain in the Army, or no Sergeant contract and at the end of your present contract you will be immediately thrown out of this institution, without money and … without passport."

I hated this situation and I was tired of being a soldier, but I did not see any other possibility. So I accepted to reenlist immediately. I was told that for practical reasons, my name was changed to Timur Privalov and that at the end of my new 5 year contract, I would get a passport.

I was sent to a military boarding school near Moscow : the "Moscow Suvorov Military School". I had to buy a new khaki uniform in heavy cloth. It looked maybe better, but it was expensive and less comfortable because it was thick and heavy. It also had less pockets. My cover was replaced by a khaki kepi with a black ribbon at the rim. I was told that this black ribbon was the sign that I was only a Private, it would be replaced by a red ribbon as soon as the Colonel considered that I deserved to be promoted to Sergeant. This was contrary to the promises which had been made, but who was I to contest all that.

The only immediate advantages of my new situation was that I could replace my buzz cut by a real High and Tight, but in the shower it was not really so practical. Moreover it was more expensive to let the barber take care of it. I did not like it, but I was only a Private who had been promised to become a Sergeant and a Russian citizen, and who got nothing of this sort.

I started to teach the young boys, interns of this Military School. I also had to supervise the way they were learning English and French. I also had to accompany them during military holiday camps. Finally, I had to teach them by example how to salute and … how to receive the first salute of a lower ranking soldier (myself) as soon as they became candidate officers.

Another of my tasks was to punish the cadets when they did not behave perfectly, and this included giving them physical punishments. The boys considered that it was more "manly" to have been punished, so they managed to deserve the knout at least once in their career, and I had to administer that dreadful punishment. I must confess here that I took a certain pleasure in making these future officers suffer under the knout. I even succeeded in letting some of them bleed. Apparently, these boys liked it while I hated my situation more and more.

After one year of service in this Military School, I was still a Private with a Private pay. I still had to sleep with the other Privates, younger than I, and assigned to running this school. I was treated like they were. That meant being back in a big hall where my only possessions were my bunk and my metallic trunk. There was nevertheless a difference: they had a passport, they were Russian citizens and when there were leaves, they could go home. I had nothing of all that and even during the leave periods, I remained subject to Private discipline, most of the time inside the institution.

I was really wondering why I had studied that much and why I had written a thesis on Dostoïevski until I discovered that my former Commandant in Irkoutsk, who had served as my University advisor, had published this thesis as a book, but with his name in the place of the author.

I was furious and I hated my present situation, but I could not complain: a Private does never complain to his chief about the treatment he gets. The Private is always assumed to deserve whatever treatment he gets, even if it is clearly unjustified.

Luckily, I had special afternoon passes. I always tried to meet people, especially girls of my age. Once I met a beautiful girl and we started a love affair. Her name was Irina and it was really love at first sight. I asked for the authorization to marry her: a Private is not a free man and must ask for such an authorization. The authorization was denied with a simple argument: I had to remain available for the cadets.

I only had the possibility to meet her for a few hours during my weekly passes. Luckily, I managed to arrange things so that I could use a cell phone at night: I was still in the same room as the other Privates assigned to this Academy and one had pity on me, so he let me use his phone despite the fact that it was forbidden.

After a full year and more at the academy, I asked to have a special leave for Christmas. I got it because I was now considered a good, peasant-like, Russian soldier. That means that I now deserved the same treatment as a real Russian volunteer, but not more.

During this leave, I left Moscow without authorization: I put on a civilian set of clothes prepared by Irina. We left Moscow for Saint Petersburg by train, as real lovers do. If we were caught, I was ready to say that we wanted to admire the old city during my leave. I knew that in that case I would be punished and be publicly subject to the knout, but I also thought that it would not be too bad for me.

Nobody stopped us before Saint Petersbourg. There we managed to go by bus to a small city near the Finish border and we crossed this border by foot. After all these years I was free but I had to be accepted in Finland: I was no longer an Army dodger, I was now a real deserter !

The Finish security questioned both of us several times, especially me since I had no passport. I told them my complete story and after a certain time they agreed to give both of us asylum.

After several attempts, I got my Belgian nationality back with a Belgian passport on my real name: the Belgians considered that it was illegal to leave somebody without any nationality, even a stupid guy like me. I was also promised to be sent to prison if I came back to Belgium.

Since then, Irina and I got married. We live in Finland now. I live under my real name, but I am not considered to have a PhD since the book has been signed by another man. I became a teacher of English, French and … Russian in Finnish public schools.

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