An Uplifting Speech

Kornilov shifted in boots that were too big for him.

He had been standing in a line of short, young soldiers for nearly two hours on a beaten-down dirt path within a poplar forest. About a half verst away a thick fog surrounded them in all directions, glowing. Rainfall set in an hour ago. His only source of entertainment while at attention was to watch the antics of the squadron officer in front of him– a middle-aged man with grey hair on his temples and a young, smooth face that, when combined with his droopy, blue eyes, made him look stupid in Kornilov’s mind. Kornilov watched this man attempt to light a thin, hand-rolled cigarette; the cigarette managed to catch for one or two seconds before the turbid wind and rain snuffed out the bright tobacco embers. When it caught for long enough the squadron officer choked the smoke down in haste and in his excitement would exhale and extinguish the light, letting out a fussy grunt each time he did so. It was like watching a headless chicken run around looking for food, Kornilov thought. It distracted him from thinking about the rain which had soaked his clothes and seeped into his bones.

“All right gentlemen.” The officer’s voice was light. “Soon you will have the great honor to- to…” He stumbled over his words and pressed his hand to his forehead, closing his eyes as if he were thinking. “The great honor to… hold on, men, I have a note with me, here.”

His tiny, spiderlike fingers fumbled into the inner pocket of his drab blue greatcoat and pulled out a clean, bone white card which he held out in front of himself with his left hand, following the words he recited with his right.

“You will have the great honor to meet General Liztnitsky before you head to the town of Razhlink and make your way to the front lines as our backup squadron. He has given you his time and will send you off with an uplifting speech. This is a great gift that he has given you, and you must act in accordance in the presence of a superior man. Greet your soldiers before you with a warm and comforting smi– oh.”

The officer looked over at the line of young soldiers with a childish smile that went from cheek-to-cheek before sticking his tongue out to the corner of his mouth and slumping over with great effort to reach into his trouser pockets with both hands for another cigarette.

“That must be him now.” A soldier to the right of Kornilov nodded over towards a sound in the fog. The little soldiers looked down the dirt path and saw four porcelain-white handsome horses appear from the fog carrying a big, silver encrusted carriage with a polished redwood door. The carriage approached them at a trotting pace and came to a stop right in front of Kornilov. The redwood door opened and from within the carriage there appeared a short man with receding blond hair and a thin mustache who had to jump out to reach the ground. He stumbled a little on a slip of mud before catching his balance. He then held out a dirty red carpet and laid it down on the mud before the carriage door, directly over a shallow puddle.

No one else came out for a while. The soldiers only heard the intermingle of giggling from a man and woman inside the carriage before the short man awkwardly cleared his throat and knocked on the carriage wall. He spoke with a feverish voice that died away each time he finished a sentence.

“Your honor? We’ve arrived before the ninth squadron.”

“What?” A deep and clear voice bellowed out a harsh reply. “Oh, right. One second.” The laughter continued within the carriage for another few seconds. In a moment the carriage shook and the half-opened door blasted wide open, hitting the short man square in the nose, causing him to writhe in agony. With both hands he cradled his nose which was now large and red.

A few seconds passed. Then, a large man leaped out of the carriage right in front of the red carpet and landed in watery mud that splashed the soldiers in front of him. He stood with his legs wide and arms splayed out, his palms facing the soldiers and his face towards God. The brute figure stood before the soldiers and dwarfed them.

“Gentlemen.” General Liztnitsky's voice boomed. He looked at the squadron as he paced leftward and rightward, his large stature making wide strides in front of the little soldiers. “Today you will head to the front lines and fight for your mother country. How exciting is it, men, to be at the forefront of a great, global change, to honor your state and statesmen with blood. You each wear a crown of thorns, you lot! You will be remembered in your country’s history in aeternum and your actions on the front lines today will echo for generations to come! Yes, these are glorious times... my name will be spoken in the highest circles. Oh, and today you will fight, fight for the motherland!”

“This isn’t what I signed up for.” Kornilov spoke out and made eye contact with General Liztnitsky whose gaze bore through him like a drill through the earth.

“No you didn’t, son. But that is not what matters. What matters is that this is what I signed you up for.” He put heavy emphasis on the ‘I’ and pointed at himself. “Don’t be so glum. Think about all the medals that I’ll get for your actions on the field today. They may even give me the Saint George Cross. The emperor himself will call on me and hand the honors, a tract of forty versts with an estate, thoroughbred horses, field oxen, one hundred, no, two hundred serfs, and whatever else I ask of him! Oh, Liztnitsky you sweet sailor, you!” General Liztnitsky pulled out a small mirror from his trouser pocket and looked at himself with a deep, hungry gaze. He licked his lips and blew kisses to his reflection.

“Yes, today really is a beautiful day.” He pocketed the mirror and stared at the sky. Grey clouds rolled over in a large blanket that covered the sun behind a thick, woollen veil. The pitter patter of rain fell hard on the earth now and the horses whined in wet discomfort. The mud was deep and the soldiers were cold. Their silence was audible and General Liztnitsky shot down a resentful look to the line of young men.

“Is there anything else I need to say to them?” His voice held contempt for the short man.

“That should be all, Your Honor. But may I say what a wonderful speech that was? You are a great man indeed to make time to support these troops. This country would not do without you. Our history will be filled with stories regaling your triumphs and I’ll be glad to read them, yes I will! Oh so glad! I don’t know how else to say this, sir, but you, you’re my hero.”

“Whatever.”

“Lizzy! Lizzy!” A flowery voice was heard from within the carriage and Kornilov looked and saw a woman with long blonde hair poking her head out of the door looking adoringly at General Liztnitsky. She held out a white handkerchief for him with her slender arm.

“So long boys. Coming, darling!” The General dismissed the troops and ran into the carriage, closing the redwood door behind him. The short man picked up the red carpet and wrung it out before unlocking the door and entering the carriage. The general’s and lady’s laughter continued, becoming distant as the carriage turned around and sped down the beaten path in the direction it came. It disappeared into the thick, glowing fog.

A soldier threw up and yellow spittle landed on Kornilov’s shoes which washed away quickly in the rain. Kornilov looked at the young man’s face. It looked more like a skull with skin on than any man he’d ever seen.

The squadron officer gave an order and everyone moved. The little soldiers walked on the beaten-down dirt path and disappeared into that fog. They smelt the pungent aroma of wet flowers which had been crushed by the rain. The poplar trees cried and the birds could not sing. The downpour was heavier now, and only rainfall could be heard. All the forest drowned. Their footsteps were gone, and any trace of the little soldiers on that beaten-down path was lost in the flood.