Chapter 2: Life Is for Running Away

“Get up, get up! All of you, get the hell out here! Stop lying in your beds like dead pigs!” On the first day of formal training at the recruit camp, a harsh shout came from outside the tent.

“Second Squad, assemble! I’ll count to ten. Anyone who rolls out after that gets kicked into the ditch.” The rough cursing sounded again. I recognized it — it was Squad Leader Carlson’s voice.

“One, two, three…” From every corner of the tent came the rustling sound of people getting dressed. Every now and then, I could hear two people fighting over one shirt. “Four, five, six…” I had already put on my shoes and was looking for the belt that should have already been on my pants. “Seven, eight, nine…” I couldn’t find it. Forget it — I’d get out first and talk later. My father and older brother, who had both been soldiers, had told me over and over that every time new recruits reported in, there would be emergency assemblies to knock the arrogance out of them. At times like this, you’d rather look like a fool than slow everyone down. Otherwise, a vicious-tongued superior would make you suffer horribly.

“Ten!” Time was up. I was already standing in the formation, holding up my pants. I even had time to sneak a glance at the other brothers beside me. It seemed that everyone had received similar advice from their elders. No matter how badly dressed they were, they had all struggled out of the tent.

“Let me take a look… Hmm, you’re Riley, right? Putting a shirt on your leg is a good idea. Keep it up next time. Rama, don’t bother. Unless you cut half of your cute white belly off, you’re never going to button that. Whose clothes did you take by mistake, huh? Ah, Roll, are you wearing a uniform or a dress? Answer me.” Roll’s uniform was big enough to fit another person inside. Obviously, he and Rama had gotten their clothes mixed up.

“It’s… a uniform.” Shy little Roll was scared half to death by our commander. He hung his head and answered softly.

“Louder. I can’t hear you.”

“It’s…” Roll’s voice got a little louder. “A uniform…” Then it dropped again.

“Even louder.”

“It’s a uniform.” His voice was still not much louder than a cat’s meow.

“Louder, goddamn it!”

This exchange was repeated more than twenty times, and it didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. Carlson was so angry he looked like he was going crazy. Roll’s answer still wasn’t as loud as a fart he was holding in.

Finally, Carlson seemed about to give up. Shaking his head, he walked to the side. Suddenly he turned around, pointed at the ground in front of Roll, and shouted, “Snake! There’s a snake!”

“Ahhh——!” A sharp, miserable shriek burst out of Roll’s mouth. He dashed behind Carlson in an instant, poked half of his pale face out, and shouted in panic, “Where? Where? Where is the snake?”

“Mm, good.” Carlson dragged Roll out from behind him and kicked him back into the formation. “Now answer me with the same voice you used just now. Are you wearing a uniform or a dress?”

“It’s a dress, sir!” This time the voice was loud enough, but it was clear Roll no longer knew what he was saying.

This time Carlson finally nodded with satisfaction. It looked like he was pleased with Roll’s performance. Then he turned and walked toward me.

“Huh? Did you come to the wrong place? I’ve never seen you before.”

“Reporting, sir! I reported in the day before yesterday. At that time, you were taking a nap with your whole head buried under the blanket, so you didn’t see me!” I answered crisply and carefully. The only problem was that holding up my pants with both hands really ruined the view.

“Uh… I see.” Our squad leader glanced left and right, silencing the new recruits who were snickering. “What’s your name?”

“Jeffritz Gid, at your command, sir!” I struggled to give a proper military salute. The right side of my pants, having lost its only support, unfortunately fell down.

“Mm.” Carlson turned to Fred, who was beside me.

Only then did I notice that Fred’s outfit was perfectly neat, as if he had been born a soldier. Even in the darkness before dawn, his black hair shone with a beautiful luster.

“Mr. Guderian,” Squad Leader Carlson finally spoke after looking him over for a long time. “Remember, you are a soldier. You’re someone who will go to the battlefield. It’s enough to wear your uniform properly. There’s no need to comb your pretty long hair during an emergency assembly.”

“Yes, sir!” Fred stood straight as a board and answered with the standard posture of an excellent soldier.

“Not bad, King.” Carlson was stunned for a long while, then sighed and finally said quietly. After that, he turned to the front of the formation and began his first speech:

“As you all know, I am ‘The Back’ Carlson — the coward who ran the fastest and never let the enemy see my face. But I’m still serving here. The people who first gave me that nickname are all gone. Do you know why? They’re dead. They thought they were brave, but they were actually stupid enough to die on the battlefield.”

“I know what you’re all thinking, you bunch of pigs. You can’t even put on clothes properly, and you’re already thinking about going to the battlefield to kill people. With the goddamn way you look now, by the time someone chops off your head, you won’t even have your pants on.” At that, he glanced at the pants I was holding up with both hands. My face grew hot.

“Serving under me, being brave or not doesn’t matter. The military law department will handle how you perform on the battlefield. I only set one rule: when I shout ‘RUN,’ you run for your lives. Run to the rear. Run to places where there are no people. Run out of the battlefield. Run as far away as you can. That won’t get you promoted, but it can save your life. Understand?”

The answer he got was a few scattered voices — after hearing an opening speech like that, who could be full of spirit?

“Alright, now listen to my command. Run three laps around this camp. Anyone who hasn’t finished before the breakfast bugle blows will get no breakfast and will have to run three more laps.”

“Report!” Big Dakla stepped forward.

“Speak!”

“Can we at least wait until we’ve put our clothes on before running?”

“If someone comes at you with a knife to kill you, would he give you time to take a hot bath first?” The squad leader’s sneering voice suddenly turned into a shout. “Don’t give me your crap! Run!”

The half-dressed recruits ran out. This was quite a sight for the whole recruit camp: before dawn, a squad of twenty young men — shirtless, holding up their pants, dragging their shoes or running barefoot — ran laps around the camp. At the main camp gate, a junior officer around thirty with a stubbly face leaned against the gate and dozed off.

One lap around the camp took more than two thousand steps. After just one lap, the gaps began to show. Taking the lead was the quiet, withdrawn Fred. Even during a long run, he moved as gracefully as a deer on a grassland. Next came little Riley. At some point, he had taken off the shirt he had mistakenly put on his leg and tied it around his waist, showing two sturdy thighs. As for further up… it was too dark, so I couldn’t see clearly. Behind him were mostly recruits from the other tents. Shy Roll and big Dakla were also among them. I held up my pants and barely kept up at the rear of the group. Behind me were some of the weaker and slower ones, already panting and dripping with sweat. At the second lap, I saw fat Rama topple over at the side of the road, foaming at the mouth, with filth all over the ground beside him. That poor guy must have thrown up the whole roasted pig head he had eaten last night.

Slowly, more and more people fell behind. Roll, with drool trailing from his mouth, also dropped back behind me. The two hands holding up my pants grew heavier and heavier. My chest was so tight it felt like it would explode. I staggered, almost collapsing from exhaustion. No one had ever told me that being a soldier would be like this.

The moment the breakfast bugle sounded, I finally threw myself down at the camp gate and completed the three laps. Even when I fell, my two hands were still tightly holding up my pants, swearing to defend the last shred of dignity of my recruit life…

Fred was the first new recruit to finish the whole run. He showed no pride, no bragging. His face was calm, as if it was only natural, as if nothing had happened at all. Even exhaustion couldn’t hide his usual proud look.

Rama was dragged back only after breakfast, by five of us using a cart. Whether he ate breakfast or not didn’t matter to him anymore. He was now lying on his bunk like a sick pig, groaning, with more breath going out than coming in. I guessed that he had run more this one morning than he had in all the eighteen years before he joined the army.

And so, our miserable recruit training life began. The whole recruit training was divided into two parts. Every morning, each camp organized unified training in formation drills, etiquette, fighting skills, and tactical application. In the afternoon, each squad decided its own training subjects. Whenever it was self-training time, our training content was only one thing — running: long-distance running, sprints, shuttle runs, cross-country running, and so on, too many to list. Squad Leader Carlson would often analyze in careful detail the breathing, rhythm, posture, and other aspects of running, in order to further improve our running performance. Of course, after every explanation, he never forgot to add this sentence:

“Remember, your life is for running away, not for fighting to the death.”

Gradually, our running training changed into many variations. For example, we had to swing swords while running, keep formation and direction while running, run with weights, and simulate running after being injured… Later, it changed from simple speed competitions into chase events. Behind us would be either a few wild dogs that had been starving for three days, an ox with its butt swollen from being smacked by a sword scabbard, red-eyed and looking for someone to take its anger out on, or simply Squad Leader Carlson himself, waving a long sword and cursing loudly.

Later on, Squad Leader Carlson’s behavior got even more ridiculous:

“Good morning, sir!” In the morning, after standing in formation and waiting for a long time, we would finally see Carlson crawl out of his tent in a long nightgown and a pointed nightcap, moving slowly and reluctantly.

“Boys, go run!” He waved his hand as if shooing flies, gave the order without any extra words, and then immediately headed straight back to his warm bed.

“Sir, Second Squad has assembled on time!” In the morning, Fred led us in gathering outside the officer’s tent. Then we saw a hand reach out from the tightly shut tent flap and wave twice gently, signaling that we could start running.

“Reporting, sir…” “Woof woof…” At night, before we could finish speaking, several thick, strong wolfhounds burst out of the tent and chased us for a long way. The calm breathing and lip-smacking sounds from Carlson’s officer tent never stopped.

“Emergency assembly! Get the hell up, all of you!” In the middle of the night, just when we had finally fallen asleep after a day of hard running, Carlson’s raspy voice suddenly blasted through the sky and startled us out of our precious sleep. Then, under the moonlight, the farce of a burly man wildly waving a blade and cursing while chasing a group of sleepy-eyed recruits began.

During nighttime, while we were lying on our bunks chatting:

“Hey, what do you think this old bastard did before? Why is he like a night owl? He can’t wake up during the day, but he’s full of energy at night.”

“Don’t tell me this old bastard is in heat and can’t sleep at night.”

“Maybe we should find him a wife to keep him in line, so our days can be a little easier.”

“Who would want to stick their own daughter into a pile of shit like him?”

“I just can’t bear to watch him go crazy. After all, he is our squad leader. And if he’s going to be crazy, fine, but he can’t drag down the bright futures of twenty promising young men like us.”

“Run!” Suddenly a shout came. Several of us scrambled out of our blankets and dashed outside in the first second. As the wind blew past my ears, I thought I heard a ghost scream.

“Hey, why is it only us?” After running half a lap around the camp, Riley was the first to react.

“Don’t tell me we ran the wrong way.”

“Didn’t you guys think that voice just now didn’t sound much like that old freak?”

“Yeah, it sounded a bit like Roll.”

“Hey, where’s Roll? Why is he gone…”

After finishing one messy lap and returning to the tent, Roll had already kicked off his blanket. His two legs were moving in the air like he was running. He was panting and shouting as he moved, “Run… I’m running…”

Suddenly we understood: it had been this guy talking in his sleep just now.

We exchanged looks and charged at him:

“Can’t you have a decent dream, you little jerk!”

“You’ve hurt yourself and everyone else, you idiot!”

“Let’s rid the people of a pest!”

“Don’t crowd so much! Move aside! Let me get a kick in! Let me get a kick in! I haven’t even gotten a single kick yet…”