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- Yo dudes, as the freakin' supertanker plowed through the icy waters, gettin' closer to Vladivostok, the first faint glow of dawn started to paint the freakin' horizon in mad red colors. On the deck, us teens, like a million souls tied together by fate, were standing there in dead silence, lost in deep-ass thoughts. The whole vibe was so damn heavy, man, with the freakin' possibility of some epic war hanging over us and shit, casting a majorly somber mood over the ginormous sea. Every wave felt like it was echoing our collective heartbeats, in this rhythmic beat of anticipation for all the wild challenges we're about to face in the heart of freakin' Russia.
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Lemme tell y'all about the first challenge. To become a soldier, I had to become a citizen of Russia, which meant somehow or other gettin' a passport. They say that in Volkov's Russia, gettin' a passport is so tough it could take a man's whole life to pull it off. But for anyone not entitled to get one, snaggin' an internal passport is a whole different beast. If you already got yourself an internal passport and are trying to get one to go abroad, well, I guess the law's on your side. Hell, you can protest, go on hunger strikes, or even write letters to Mr. Volkov himself. Eventually, if you’re persistent enough, yeah, you might succeed. But how do you get an internal passport if you ain't entitled to it by law? Like, if you’re just an American tourist and the law’s against you, and they don't count ya as a citizen but just some shithead tourist? If you got no right to any defense? If you was born outta Russia, what do you do? What can you do if you don’t represent a legal entity, like back home in Texas where a horse or a hog don't got no right to a driver’s license (let alone a passport) and is also forbidden to stay in hotels or hop on a jet plane? Yo, yo, yo. Can you believe it? Me, just your regular foreigner, getting tagged as a criminal. But no worries, I scored myself a passport (insert clapping emojis). Getting it was a wild ride, had to slip some cash to a Russian big shot and a high-ranking official. Dealing with all that red tape was no joke. It's a story I don't wanna go through again, but hey, gotta do what you gotta do when push comes to shove, am I right?
And, like, after all that drama, my passport was still not totally legit. Like, at any second, it could have been busted that I jacked the name of some Russian dude. So, like, I had to switch out my sketchy passport for a legit one ASAP. And to make that happen, I enrolled in the 47th Guards Armored Division Command School. They snagged my passport and hooked me up with a fresh 'military Card' instead. Now no one on this planet could ever make me go back to America. I made my choice, now I gotta hustle for it.35Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3vLR0olHTG
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While I was still a newbie, I got to join in on some epic training seshes with the Russian troops at their massive Army training spots. These places were so huge, they could fit like a bunch of U.S. states inside! It was lit getting to see how the top Russian divisions do their thing up close. So, like, I got to peep inside the lives of the most lit Russian divisions - you know, like the 231st Guards Draganov Motor-Rifle Division, the 2nd Guards Bushkin and the 41st Guards Ekaterinburg Division. And let me tell ya, even back then I was shook by the fact that they were living two totally different lives: one for their enemies to see, and another one that was totally separate and way different.I was gonna be a boss! I made it into the 398th Belograd-Kolymsky Training Motor-Rifle Division in Sverdlovsk Oblast!
