Somewhere, far away on the field, a sabre suddenly gleamed like lightning in the air. This was the desired signal, and all the Captains at once roared—
“—— ease!” whereupon all the regiment, with a dull thud, grounded their rifles. Here and there was heard the click of a few unfortunate bayonets which, in the movement, happened to clash together.
But now, at last, the solemn, never-to-be-forgotten moment had arrived, when the commander of the regiment’s tremendous lungs were to be heard by the world in all their awful majesty. Solemnly, confidently, but, at the same time, menacingly, like slow rumblings of thunder, the strongly accentuated syllables rolled across the plain in the command—
“March past!”
In the next moment you might hear sixteen Captains risking their lives in mad attempt to shout each other down, when they repeated all at once—
“March past!”
One single poor sinner far away in detail of the column managed to come too late. He whined in a melancholy falsetto:
“March pa—!”
The rest of the word was unfortunately lost to the men, and probably drowned in the oaths and threats of the bystanders.
“Column in half companies!” roared Colonel Shulgovich.