Page 48 - The Mirror of My Soul. Vol. 1

Nicolai Levashov. The Mirror of My Soul. Vol. 1. Born in the USSR

on the face of it. Sure, in the first evening we splashed in the sea, but as we were involved

in the service, less time and desire remained to swim in the sea after being on duty.

Funnily enough, I stood on parade in civilian clothes for the first two weeks,
because there was no uniform of my size in the depot. The situation was really comical—
there I was, a pretty tall person (almost two meter height), standing in the front line, at
morning and afternoon parades, in civilian clothes! By the end of the second week the
commander lost all patience watching this “circus” and gave the order to unseal a war-
time depot and find there something suitable for me.

We found it after a pretty long search, I signed all necessary papers, sewed on the
shoulder straps and other insignia, and the next day I could finally put on uniform and
take command of my platoon. Only box-calf boots made up a set with a field military
uniform. They were also quite difficult to find (I wear size 45; however, for my height,

it is rather a small size, luckily for me). I had to wear them during the August heat on
the Black sea coast. Anyone who ever served in the army must understand perfectly what
I felt. My feet were as if in a sauna.
All the other officers, who were “lucky” with their sizes, “cooled” off in their shoes.
According to service regulations I must not be in the field uniform in peacetime,
therefore I was sent to Odessa to the military atelier, where I was made both the everyday
and full uniforms. I also found and purchased proper shoes and other accessories. After
approximately three weeks I finally “corresponded” to my rank according to the service
regulations...

Someone may ask who cares about this nonsense!? Firstly, two years of service in

the army are also part of my life and biography. And, secondly, a great deal of what
happened to me in the army during these two years directly concerns the events which
became crucial in my life. And who knows, if I had got an assignment into some secret
institute, would my life be the same? Most likely it would not: it could be on another
path. And although it would also be the road of cognition, I doubt that it would be the
same. Probably in the alternative variant of my life, I would come to similar concepts
and discoveries, but much later on. Fate arranged things in its own way and I got its first
gift where least expected.

* * *
After about a month of my service, an apartment in the officer hostel became free
and lieu-tenant Milenko moved there. As for me, I did not want to move—I had never
liked hostels, especially when three persons lived together in one room. So, I began to
rent a room alone that suited me perfectly. One day the hostess of the apartment, an
elderly woman, invited me to a cup of tea. Being a pensioner, she lacked a social life
and was eager to exchange a few “words”. We were drinking tea and chatting, and
eventually our conversation turned to unusual phenomena and I told her Wolf Messing
story, which I read in a magazine. I recounted the content of the article, including how
he first knew about his abilities whilst still a child. The article said that, when he was a
boy, he got onto a train without a ticket and when a ticket collector came, frightening
him, Wolf gave him a sweet wrapper, which the collector punched like a ticket.

During my narration I probably subconsciously entered into the influencing state
that resulted in quite interesting after-effects. While talking I moved my hands. This
made my hostess to react in a peculiar way. She looked at me with surprise and asked:

Back to contents
48