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Chapter Two The Training of a Guardsman AT THE BEGINNING of October my cousin Misha Osorgin and I arrived together to serve in Gatchina, where quarters had already been prepared for us. On the very first day we set off for regimental headquarters and reported to our immediate superior, Lieutenant Palitsyn, who served as the head of the regimental training detachment to which all the volunteers were immediately assigned. First of all Palitsyn demanded that we order (at our own expense) a complete uniform at the regimental tailor’s, and that this uniform not differ in the slightest detail from a regular soldier’s uniform. Cloth, buttons, even the linings—everything must be exactly the same as the uniform of the simple line soldiers. We could report to the regiment only when dressed like regular soldiers. Only “in the city” and off duty were we permitted to dress a little more elegantly, but still observing the established forms of the regiment. I must admit, however, that even the regular Guards uniform was of quite high quality, quite handsome and fine. We were to wear black uniforms with gold buttons and brass helmets with grenade-shaped ornaments . We also had white dress uniforms, with cuffs, collar, and chest beautifully edged in yellow and light-blue stripes. These uniforms were called kolety. They had no buttons and were fastened by hooks, since in mounted formation one wore brass armor (the so-called cuirasses) over them. These uniforms were to be worn with gilded helmets, crowned by large gold doubleheaded eagles with outspread wings, and with “cuffs”—special white gloves with huge stiff tops almost to the elbow, like the gauntlets of medieval knights. We also had yellow double-breasted jackets and simple khaki shirts. Our ammunition belts were snow-white, like those of all the Guards. Dashing lance corporals immediately took it upon themselves to teach us whom and how to salute. Our uniforms were quickly made for us, and about four days later, clothed in white dress jackets and having pulled on our heavy brass helmets adorned with eagles, we hired the regimental cabby Averian, who knew the addresses of all the officers, and set off to “report” to each of them separately, in accordance with the accepted custom. This was a 158 whole procedure that required several rehearsals. We were rehearsed by a gallant sergeant major of the training detachment by the name of Maliar. After all, we were merely soldiers—“the lower ranks”—and from the moment we put on a soldier’s uniform, an enormous gulf opened up between us and the officers. Now, dressed just like soldiers, we could no longer speak frankly and behave naturally with a person dressed in an officer’s uniform, even though we belonged to the highest court circles. We had to know how to present ourselves to an officer, how to appear “before his eyes” while holding broadsword and helmet, how to look into the faces of our superiors, simultaneously “deferential and cheerful.” A civilian is ludicrous when first shoved into a glittering military uniform . After all, in the old-time army, real military bearing was not easy to acquire and any civilian who dressed in a military way and wanted to imitate a military bearing was inevitably ludicrous and grotesque. It was easier for me, since I already had some experience in this area through my service on a navy ship. Misha Osorgin had no such experience and thus was very ludicrous, especially since he was a bit awkward and clumsy anyway. Producing an unbelievable racket with our huge line-soldiers’ boots, our spurs, and the enormous metallic sheaths of our broadswords, which hung unaccustomedly from our left sides and caught on everything as we walked, we would enter the officers’ quarters marching in “goose step,” which we did a poor job of. Presenting ourselves to our superiors, we would contort our faces into a “deferential but cheerful” expression, stand at attention like statues , and loudly shout in turn: “Your Honor, I have the honor to report to you on the occasion of enlisting in the Life Guard Cuirassier Regiment of Her Majesty the Sovereign Empress Mariia Fiodorovna . . . Volunteer So-and-so!” We had to gallantly blurt this out in one breath. During this tirade the officer, no matter what his rank, would also stand at stony attention, then give us his hand, and then we would again fill his apartment with the loud and joyful cry, “To your health...

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