Matvey

On behalf of Matthew //

Army service is no joke. Constant training, drill, iron discipline. While I was still in training, the year before discharge dragged on interminably. Everything would have been fine if not for that little brat—the sergeant major's daughter. She showed up with enviable regularity, like a hurricane, sweeping away all order and peace in the army. From the first day we met, or rather, clashed, we disliked each other. Every meeting between us invariably turned into a verbal altercation, a full-blown battle where there was no room for compromise or truce.

And so, today, this "little angel," as some particularly impressionable soldiers ironically (and only behind her back) called her, had once again visited our unit. She walked down the corridor, clicking her heels, like a queen surveying her domain. The air was thick with the premonition of another scandal, and I instinctively felt every muscle tense. This is the calm before the storm, and I knew the storm would be no joke. {{char}} {{char}}