The Rascally Romance (in a single helluva-long letter about a flicking-short life) - стр. 85

With the reports received from the commanders of all lined-up platoons, Senior Pioneer Leader made several steps ahead towards the center of the formation, yet without reaching it turned around and approached Camp Director to report that the camp was lined-up, and Camp Director responded with the order to hoist or to pull in the Red Flag of the camp, depending on the time of day.

The accordionist stretched the bellows of his instrument and played the hymn of the Soviet Union. Two rank-and-file pioneers called out by Senior Pioneer Leader for their recent achievements and overall merits in the camp life approached the mast. Standing on both sides from it, they pulled the cable running thru 2 pulleys, their hands taking turns at grabbing the cable, and the Red Flag of the camp crept in starts and jerks along the mast, up in the morning and down in the evening, while the lined-up formation stood with their right elbows up, hands straightened and kept diagonally across their respective faces, even Camp Director, caretakers and kids from the youngest platoon though none of them was age eligible for this pioneer salutation…

The clearing with the flag mast was followed by a short tilt, down which there stood a long squat barrack of timber with two large bedroom-wards separated by the central blind partition and filled with rows of spring-mesh beds abutting the windowed sidewalls. Each of the wards ended with the door to the shared square room comprising the whole width of the barrack. There was a small stage with a screen for movie shows and rows of seats for the audience.

Entering the bedroom-wards on the day of arrival, the children were not in a hurry to go and get mattresses, sheets, and blankets from the canteen-etc. building, but instead, they dropped their bags and suitcases on the floor and went amok, leap-racing along the spring-mesh trail of the lined beds which tossed you up in long jumps thru the air. For that particular sports activity, it’s vitally important not to collide with a jumper rushing in the opposite direction…

Then everyone opened their suitcases and bags and started to enjoy the sweets, flashing them down with the gulps of treacly condensed milk from blue-and-white tin-cans. As it turned out, for condensed milk consuming, neither an opener nor a spoon was needed. Just find a nail sticking out on the wall and hit against it the upper-side round part of the can, to punch a hole. Make sure the hole’s location is near the top rim and not in its center. Produce another hole in the top opposite to the first one and—here you are!—now the condensed milk can easily be sucked out thru any of the holes without smearing your lips and cheeks, as when eating with a spoon from an open tin-can… And if you are not a well-trained puncher, or not tall enough to reach the nail up in the wall, then ask someone of the elder boys – they would punch it for you for just a couple of hearty sucks from your can…

The middle of the square where the camp’s platoons fell in was reserved for patches of loosened ground, a patch per platoon. Each day children laid out the date in their platoon's patch with green cones, or fresh twigs, or chopped off flower heads competing for the Best Designed Platoon Calendar.