We, the incorporated one, received the first mission from “Dobrogea” to the “Basarabia” depressions and on the waterside of Black Sea. Like any other reservist, the “wasp-wasted” left us too. We were all of us, all kinds of size. The types of wind from the steppe during winter were very strong and cold. We, the Transylvanians, few knew about what a wind was and specially one of a steppe. Then we put things straight. The small and raw-boned ones, the wind carried them up side down and the weird thing was that it was blowing them backwards not forward, having to recuperate the “walking” distances. On the ones that something has “deposited”, it was simply choking them, probably dying from heart attack. All this I remember from that “movement” with the cold wind in my face, as to the place of billet. Between us there wasn’t any soldier at least fat. They all “remained” on the way. From how many we were, the ones that we left, we got to that place of billet, because we hanged on close to each other, by hand, clothes or equipment. There I have seen images that a human cannot imagine. The frostbites were of all kind and in all the places. The clay fleshed from the bones from places that you would have never thought. The frozen ones remained with the bones uncovered in those places. A lot were crippled from the coldness, and then they were sent … home … if they could make it. About drugs … there was nothing to say. Through them I found one of my villagers that was telling me: maybe the way I see him know I think of him as a human rest, but if I would go in line, I will have the chance to see of what the “united armies” are capable of when it comes to the native population from Russia. I would consider myself lucky if I will end as close as he was now. I was completely out of place thinking of what this warlike will take me next.