Dan Carlinin Hardcore Historyssä kerrottiin hauska tarina Neuvostoarmeijasta miten tuollainen voi tapahtua 
The regimental commander has maps and orders from above, while I have nothing but a rifle, a pistol, and an entrenching tool. As such, they have the burden of giving orders, while I must see those orders enforced. Somewhere up above a general looks at a map and it seems reasonable to him to change the front line. He sends down an order.
“At such and such a point, move 5 kilometers forward.” Well, as luck would have it there turns out to be a river just at that point, the White Sturgeon. It’s deep and swift, in open terrain. It would be convenient and relatively safe to dig some trenches and sit behind this natural obstacle. But an order is an order, and I can’t say that it’s technically impossible to cross here, even though from a sane man’s point of view it is indeed impossible to cross; we have no boats, nor planks, nor are there nearby trees to cut into rafts.
Another predicament lies in the fact that all the soldiers in my regiment come from the steppes. Not only can they not swim, but I’d wager that they’ve never even seen a river in their entire lives.
I relay the orders to advance the front to the men under my command. Looking confusedly at the rushing river and each other, one of the slant-eyes that speak Russian says “Comrade Lt. Sir, I can’t go in the water. I don’t know how to swim.” He looks back at the others, and they nod their agreement. I know that it’s better to drown a soldier than to show irresoluteness or insubordination to orders given from a commanding officer. Even if they all have to drown, it’s better than what could happen to us all if we disobey an order. Besides, I already reported to the Major upon receiving the order that there are no boats. He told me to do it anyway. Steeling myself for what I must do, I pull out my service revolver, cock it, and point it at the face of the cucumber in front of me. “Get in the water you son of a bitch! I’ll give you to the count of 3 to get in there, or you’ll never go anywhere else.” The soldier starts sweating. With a worried look on his face he glances from me to the other men. I shove the gun into his face and yell for him to hurry up. He quickly turns and hustles to the river bank. Holding his pack up above his head in one hand and his rifle in the other, he steps into the water, evidently trying to wade across. Of course the strong current immediately seizes him and carries him down the river as he ineffectually thrashes about. He disappears under the water and is swept downstream, apparently drowning. Some of the others don’t speak Russian, but they understand when I point my pistol at them that they must also wade into the river. All the rest of the cucumbers that I force into the river drown.
I walk into the Major’s tent, where he sits examining lists of supplies, equipment, and other such logistical paperwork. He looks up at me as I enter. “What do you have to report Comrade?” “Comrade Major, there are only 5 men left in my company.”
“WHAT!? What did you do to them!? I didn’t hear a single shot!”
"They all drowned crossing the river, Comrade Major.‘’
“What do you mean ‘drowned’!? I’ll shoot you right here like a dog!”
“As you will Comrade Major, but I did report to you that there were no planks or logs to be found in the area, that the river is deep and swift, that it can’t be forded. You told me to stop arguing and to just obey orders.”
“You blockhead! What a stupid way to destroy a whole company!”
The Colonel arrives shortly in a groundcar. “I gave you five hours to cross the river!” he shouts as he enters. “Have you carried out the order!?”
“No, Comrade Colonel, we’ve sustained heavy losses.”
“Losses?” …“Well. That’s fine. If there weren’t any losses our heads would roll. What happened? Everything’s quiet, I didn’t hear a single shot from over here. Did they all get knifed or what?”
“No. Drowned. The company that was to cross over were all slanteyes. Never saw a river before. Naturally they drowned, since there was nothing to float on.”
“You son of a bitch! Why didn’t you take some pontoons? We’ve been dragging a whole transport of pontoons around! I could give you as many as you want!”
“I no longer need them Comrade Colonel. There are five cucumbers left in the first company, ten in the second, maybe twenty in the third. There’s no one left to cross.” The Colonel ponders for a moment.
“Well, you’ll just have to cross anyway. What counts is the fact that the order has been carried out, even if only one man makes it.”