[First World War. Colonel Volkov is reviewing the Imperial Army, which has in its ranks every man it can acquire, from teenage boys barely finishing adolesence to white-bearded old men. Colonel Volkov's mood is significantly less ****y from the 1914 party when he believed it would be a short war]
Colonel Volkov: The men have orders to be at the front lines by tonight. Do we have any horses or motor transport?
Russian Major: No, sir. None are available.
Colonel Volkov: Very well, they have to walk.
Russian Major: Right face!
[Russian soldiers turn to their right]
Russian Major: Forward march!
[The Major leads the soldiers in march towards combat zone. Colonel Volkov walks in opposite direction and reclines under a tree. He takes one last look at the sky as he unholsters his pistol, sticks it in his mouth, then squeezes the trigger]
Colonel Volkov: The men have orders to be at the front lines by tonight. Do we have any horses or motor transport?
Russian Major: No, sir. None are available.
Colonel Volkov: Very well, they have to walk.
Russian Major: Right face!
[Russian soldiers turn to their right]
Russian Major: Forward march!
[The Major leads the soldiers in march towards combat zone. Colonel Volkov walks in opposite direction and reclines under a tree. He takes one last look at the sky as he unholsters his pistol, sticks it in his mouth, then squeezes the trigger]
[First World War. Colonel Volkov is reviewing the Imperial Army, which has in its ranks every man it can acquire, from teenage boys barely finishing adolesence to white-bearded old men. Colonel Volkov's mood is significantly less ****y from the 1914 party when he believed it would be a short war]
Colonel Volkov : The men have orders to be at the front lines by tonight. Do we have any horses or motor transport?
Russian Major : No, sir. None are available.
Colonel Volkov : Very well, they have to walk.
Russian Major : Right face!
[Russian soldiers turn to their right]
Russian Major : Forward march!
[The Major leads the soldiers in march towards combat zone. Colonel Volkov walks in opposite direction and reclines under a tree. He takes one last look at the sky as he unholsters his pistol, sticks it in his mouth, then squeezes the trigger]
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