Russkya
06-01-2008, 03:07
10 January, 2008. 05.55 Hours (Local).
Novaya Zemlya Officer's Academy, Central Oblast, PSR Russkya.
It was very obviously the middle of a typical Russkyan winter. A cold overnight wind had howled between the two-story concrete barracks buildings and the three story sandstone structures, the latter finished in a classical style and surrounding a cobblestoned parade square. The buildings built of sandstone rose on all four sides of the square, with arches between two buildings on the North and the South faces of the square. Access to the East and West sides of the square were through large, tiled hallways with arching doorways that bisected the East Building and the West Hall.
Carefully laid, the cobblestones were able to shift, slightly, as the ground froze and thawed throughout the seasons. Combined with the careful construction of the foundations of the sandstone buildings had allowed the Novaya Zemlya Officer's Academy and its surrounding square kilometers of grounds to survive Russkya's environment since 1802.
With careful precision early in 1951, senior Military Engineer students had laid the plans for the ungainly, Soviet style concrete "apartment blocks" referred to as the Barracks some distance from the center of Novaya Zemlya. Nearly two kilometers away, they were connected via a wide, surfaced road that led across the front of the two Northern Buildings (Building 1 and the Administration Building) and linked with a railway station that featured oak doors, polished maple-wood flooring, black wrought iron railings and finishings. It was of slightly later vintage than "New Land" and since 1889 had been the primary means of arrival for new officer cadets. When referred to in brief, Novaya Zemlya simply became NOVZEM.
Weak sunlight filtered through light clouds on the morning sky as the school's current complement turned out on the central parade square in the formed fifty-man OfzkaVik units. "OfzkaVik" was a contracted form of the Russkyan phrase "Officer Cadet Platoon," the primary organizational block of NOVZEM students, assigned upon arrival. Two "OfzkaViks" were assigned to each of the ten apartment complexes that housed a hundred each with two students per room, one OfzkaVik per floor.
"Group, attention!"
Seven hundred and fifty-three left boot soles simultaneously slammed into the cobblestones, the sound reverberating off the weathered sandstone.
"Guard, present arms!"
Regimental Sergeant Major Pomnen Vasilyevich Sreznev's voice was huge, brought up from the gut as he'd been trained. Practiced rhythm ensured that verbalized orders were clearly audible and easily understandable. The Colour Guard took a half step backwards with their right foot, turning it outwards. Ceremonial SKS carbines were presented forwards, the polished metal and wood gleaming softly in the weak light of early morning. Shoulders squared in the direction of the presentation, blade bayonets extended and locked into place.
The officer cadet in command of the Colour Guard swept his drawn sword's guard to his forehead and lowered the blade, arm straight, to point at the ground to his front. The gesture required a measure of shoulder strength to hold for any length of time, as the arm was held at precisely forty-five degrees and the straight-bladed sword, Infantry Officer, Pattern 1815, weighed a kilogram and a half.
"Group, to the Colours, salute!" Sreznev's voice brought the right arms of every officer cadet heading his platoon this day, the instructor's arms, and those of the Administrative Section leader's up in a crisp salute. The Colour Party raised the national flag up the ten meters of the flagstaff.
"Group, attention! Guard, attention!"
There was only the sound of fabric creaking as arms snapped back down to the sides of unit leaders, and the flat palms of the Colour Guard slapping forestocks as they smoothly lowered the buttplate of the rifle to the cobblestones on their right side.
A tall man, hook nosed and blonde in the way of the Slavs that hailed from Karelia, marched across the front of the parade square, executing a precise right wheel infront of the flagstaff to slam to attention infront of RSM Sreznev. Brigadier General's insignia adorned the shoulderstraps of his uniform, bright metal sharply contrasting with the black of the rank-slips.
"Stand them at ease, Sergeant Major."
The educated tones of the officer's voice comfortably fit these surroundings. Sreznev executed an about turn, facing the assembled personnel.
"Group! Stand at, ease!"
Again, boots crashed down, legs spread shoulder-width and hands clasped behind backs, elbows straight. RSM Sreznev marched around the Brigadier General, halting and standing at ease to his rear-right.
"Staff and cadets. Today, as you are aware, we have a small group of fellow officers arriving from the Republic of Coorsota. These gentlemen will attend lectures, observe officer training, and possibly participate in the latter. Definately in the former. Being officers, ergo gentlemen and representatives of our homeland, you will be kind, courteous, and proeficient in your duties."
The Brigadier General, Stanibor "Starikh" Romanevich Katislov, remained standing at attention.
"Sergeant Major!"
"Sir!"
RSM Sreznev marched around to his General's front and halted. As with all drill, the ultimate goal was smooth, crisp movements. The result, when performed individually, was a pleasure to watch. When in a group, the synchronized display was impressive. It demonstrated the discipline of the parading force, and hinted at their combat capability and professionalism. While only a very, very small part of soldiering, it is often considered an integral part. How can one expect a man to follow his section commander into battle if he cannot stand still in formation?
"Dismiss the parade, Sergeant Major."
"Sir!"
The Sergeant Major about-faced. Chin up, shoulders squared, his presence embodied esprit de corps. Every man on parade felt pride in their capabilities, eager to learn more, and took pride in their drill, the ritual movements expressing force lineages, respect for previous soldiers who'd stood on this square, and for the nation as a whole. They were lofty ideals, embraced by all who attended the campus that comprised the oldest of the Army's officer academies.
"Group! Turning to the right, dismissed!"
One sharp movement, and suddenly the entire complement was facing to the right. Leading with their left foot, the boots touched down on the old cobblestones simultaneously and the sound was better than good. Six marching paces, and the formations broke up, cadets heading to lecture halls, other duties, physical training grounds, weapons ranges, or other facilities.
The Coorsotan officers were expected to arrive via standard RUSRAIL passenger train at Novaya Zemlya at 13.30 hours local time. They would be met by two officers who served at NOVZEM as instructors.
Novaya Zemlya Officer's Academy, Central Oblast, PSR Russkya.
It was very obviously the middle of a typical Russkyan winter. A cold overnight wind had howled between the two-story concrete barracks buildings and the three story sandstone structures, the latter finished in a classical style and surrounding a cobblestoned parade square. The buildings built of sandstone rose on all four sides of the square, with arches between two buildings on the North and the South faces of the square. Access to the East and West sides of the square were through large, tiled hallways with arching doorways that bisected the East Building and the West Hall.
Carefully laid, the cobblestones were able to shift, slightly, as the ground froze and thawed throughout the seasons. Combined with the careful construction of the foundations of the sandstone buildings had allowed the Novaya Zemlya Officer's Academy and its surrounding square kilometers of grounds to survive Russkya's environment since 1802.
With careful precision early in 1951, senior Military Engineer students had laid the plans for the ungainly, Soviet style concrete "apartment blocks" referred to as the Barracks some distance from the center of Novaya Zemlya. Nearly two kilometers away, they were connected via a wide, surfaced road that led across the front of the two Northern Buildings (Building 1 and the Administration Building) and linked with a railway station that featured oak doors, polished maple-wood flooring, black wrought iron railings and finishings. It was of slightly later vintage than "New Land" and since 1889 had been the primary means of arrival for new officer cadets. When referred to in brief, Novaya Zemlya simply became NOVZEM.
Weak sunlight filtered through light clouds on the morning sky as the school's current complement turned out on the central parade square in the formed fifty-man OfzkaVik units. "OfzkaVik" was a contracted form of the Russkyan phrase "Officer Cadet Platoon," the primary organizational block of NOVZEM students, assigned upon arrival. Two "OfzkaViks" were assigned to each of the ten apartment complexes that housed a hundred each with two students per room, one OfzkaVik per floor.
"Group, attention!"
Seven hundred and fifty-three left boot soles simultaneously slammed into the cobblestones, the sound reverberating off the weathered sandstone.
"Guard, present arms!"
Regimental Sergeant Major Pomnen Vasilyevich Sreznev's voice was huge, brought up from the gut as he'd been trained. Practiced rhythm ensured that verbalized orders were clearly audible and easily understandable. The Colour Guard took a half step backwards with their right foot, turning it outwards. Ceremonial SKS carbines were presented forwards, the polished metal and wood gleaming softly in the weak light of early morning. Shoulders squared in the direction of the presentation, blade bayonets extended and locked into place.
The officer cadet in command of the Colour Guard swept his drawn sword's guard to his forehead and lowered the blade, arm straight, to point at the ground to his front. The gesture required a measure of shoulder strength to hold for any length of time, as the arm was held at precisely forty-five degrees and the straight-bladed sword, Infantry Officer, Pattern 1815, weighed a kilogram and a half.
"Group, to the Colours, salute!" Sreznev's voice brought the right arms of every officer cadet heading his platoon this day, the instructor's arms, and those of the Administrative Section leader's up in a crisp salute. The Colour Party raised the national flag up the ten meters of the flagstaff.
"Group, attention! Guard, attention!"
There was only the sound of fabric creaking as arms snapped back down to the sides of unit leaders, and the flat palms of the Colour Guard slapping forestocks as they smoothly lowered the buttplate of the rifle to the cobblestones on their right side.
A tall man, hook nosed and blonde in the way of the Slavs that hailed from Karelia, marched across the front of the parade square, executing a precise right wheel infront of the flagstaff to slam to attention infront of RSM Sreznev. Brigadier General's insignia adorned the shoulderstraps of his uniform, bright metal sharply contrasting with the black of the rank-slips.
"Stand them at ease, Sergeant Major."
The educated tones of the officer's voice comfortably fit these surroundings. Sreznev executed an about turn, facing the assembled personnel.
"Group! Stand at, ease!"
Again, boots crashed down, legs spread shoulder-width and hands clasped behind backs, elbows straight. RSM Sreznev marched around the Brigadier General, halting and standing at ease to his rear-right.
"Staff and cadets. Today, as you are aware, we have a small group of fellow officers arriving from the Republic of Coorsota. These gentlemen will attend lectures, observe officer training, and possibly participate in the latter. Definately in the former. Being officers, ergo gentlemen and representatives of our homeland, you will be kind, courteous, and proeficient in your duties."
The Brigadier General, Stanibor "Starikh" Romanevich Katislov, remained standing at attention.
"Sergeant Major!"
"Sir!"
RSM Sreznev marched around to his General's front and halted. As with all drill, the ultimate goal was smooth, crisp movements. The result, when performed individually, was a pleasure to watch. When in a group, the synchronized display was impressive. It demonstrated the discipline of the parading force, and hinted at their combat capability and professionalism. While only a very, very small part of soldiering, it is often considered an integral part. How can one expect a man to follow his section commander into battle if he cannot stand still in formation?
"Dismiss the parade, Sergeant Major."
"Sir!"
The Sergeant Major about-faced. Chin up, shoulders squared, his presence embodied esprit de corps. Every man on parade felt pride in their capabilities, eager to learn more, and took pride in their drill, the ritual movements expressing force lineages, respect for previous soldiers who'd stood on this square, and for the nation as a whole. They were lofty ideals, embraced by all who attended the campus that comprised the oldest of the Army's officer academies.
"Group! Turning to the right, dismissed!"
One sharp movement, and suddenly the entire complement was facing to the right. Leading with their left foot, the boots touched down on the old cobblestones simultaneously and the sound was better than good. Six marching paces, and the formations broke up, cadets heading to lecture halls, other duties, physical training grounds, weapons ranges, or other facilities.
The Coorsotan officers were expected to arrive via standard RUSRAIL passenger train at Novaya Zemlya at 13.30 hours local time. They would be met by two officers who served at NOVZEM as instructors.