Malky, potatoes, departure
Saturday
In the morning, the commander announced that it was possible on Saturday to have a cultural rest at the hot springs, 10 people from each squadron and 5 people from the control of the regiment were traveling. If everything goes well, the race will be repeated on Sunday in order to reach the maximum number of people. The people hummed gratefully. They began compiling lists, identifying opportunities and preparing for the trip.
And then came Saturday.
The car was ready, excited lucky people crowded around the gathering place. The regimental commander, very calm, left his house and went to the car. And then his gaze rested on the very operator whom he had recently punished. The operator stood at the crossroads of the paths and thought about something with concentration. The commander suddenly, even for himself, suddenly decided to show sensitivity:
- Well, what are you sad about? Offended, probably, for the punishment? No need to be offended, if you are guilty, get it. And you probably didn't take it on the trip? This is fixable! I personally take you with me, go and take your things into the car. The operator is also a person!
Dumbfounded by such a commanding sensitivity, the operator was silent ... Well, do not tell the commander that he was thinking about how to use two bottles of Pliska more efficiently, without attracting the attention of senior comrades. Therefore, the operator reported very briefly:
- Comrade Colonel! Thank you for your concern, but I have no grudge against a fair punishment. And I didn't even try to go to Malki, I thought to work on myself, well, in terms of self-improvement. I think that while I am not worthy of such entertainment, let the best come.
- It's your business. Maybe you're right…
The car with the vacationers drove to Malki, and the operator found his right hand and proceeded to put in order the nerves, upset by the sudden display of sensitivity by the regiment commander. At the same time, I asked for the opinion of a more experienced comrade:
- Listen, Seryoga! The regiment commander showed me sensitivity and concern ... How do you understand this? Maybe the service will trample?
Serega knew the regiment commander for a year more than the operator. Having drunk the poured Pliska, he thought and answered:
- Don't roll your lips! It's generally bad that he remembered you. Our commander is hot, but easy-going, but nevertheless it is better not to get into his memory. Think for yourself, where are you and where is the colonel? And in general, these commanders, they are like that - they eat vodka all night, and in the morning they are drawn to sensitivity ...
Having expressed his opinion, Seryoga began to gently roll onto the bed and fell over until he took a completely horizontal position. Making himself comfortable, closing his eyes, Seryoga finished his thought:
- You would be careful ...
He shouldn't have said that. What the operator did not have was the instinct for military self-preservation. Well, he was not afraid of the authorities, so he grew up, and instead of bypassing the authorities, he was always on the rampage.
And now, having heard the last words of Seryoga, the opera said to himself: “Oh, why should I be afraid of him, I suppose, I won’t eat it,” and thought about the future plan of the day off. He did not think for long.
And what is there to think if the most worthy should already drive up to the Malkas?
In Malki
This is the place for the operator, whom the regiment commander personally invited. So the plan is ripe - we must go to Malki! Well, if there is a plan, then it must be carried out. After rummaging in his bag, finding swimming trunks (every pilot going to Kamchatka takes swimming trunks with him) and stuffing them into a special pocket for a pistol, the opera went to the main road, that is, to the highway.
This route connected St. Petersburg and the village of Oktyabrsky, in the west of Kamchatka, was strategic for Kamchatka, and cars drove along it quite often. The main thing is to determine the correct direction of movement. Taking a compass from his pocket, which every pilot and navigator has as an emergency equipment, the oper correctly determined where he needed to go, and stood on the right side of the road. Seeing an approaching truck, the oper did not wave his hands, as civilians would do, but simply walked out onto the center of the road and stared gloomily at the driver.
The driver began to slow down, and then the opera showed him with a gesture to the place of stopping. After stopping the truck of operas, he also silently opened the door, got into the car and gave the command:
- Forward!
The driver, who was a little dazed by the sight of this stern naval pilot, pressed the gas, the car drove off, and then he decided to clarify the situation:
- Commander! Where we go?
- To Malki!
“I’m a little wrong, I’ll turn before reaching ...
- The homeland is in danger!
- Got it, in Malki.
- If anything, wake up, did not sleep all night.
- What happened?
- The time will come - they will tell everyone.
Having puzzled the driver, the opera closed his eyes and plunged into a sweet slumber, imagining how he would now lie down in hot water and examine almost naked female bodies, which he had not seen for three weeks.
He woke up from the fact that the driver gently shook him by the shoulder.
- Commander, look ...
- How much is left to go?
- Five kilometers, but open your eyes, it's yours, I guess.
Oper reluctantly opened his eyes and looked at the road. What he saw instantly put him in a good mood. And he saw a military vehicle with an open hood, a military driver, perplexedly examining the insides of the car, and a column of pilots led by the commander of the regiment, wandering towards the Malky. Here the driver took the initiative:
- Maybe we will slow down, take a look at the car, help the military man?
- Do not slow down, we have another task.
- And how are these?
- But how? Let them go on foot, if the mind is not enough to check the car before leaving. Nothing, the collection point is Malki, for them five kilometers is an easy walk, see for yourself what hari they ate.
Five kilometers flew quickly, and the car stopped at the entrance to the hot springs. Oper praised the driver:
- Well done, we arrived quickly. I give permission to act according to a personal plan.
- Yes, do not hesitate, we, if anything, always ...
- The homeland will not forget you!
Saying goodbye to the driver, the oper looked around. Well, in principle, he did not expect to see the Sochi Riviera here, so he was not upset to find primitive baths, a locker room and, most importantly, a stall. Having bought a bottle of Pliska, having changed clothes, the operas found a hotter place, plunged into this place up to his chest, sipped a little from the bottle and began to look at the people around him. Yes, there were people around, not military men, but ordinary people, and some of them were women and delighted the eyes of the opera with their openness and even half-nakedness.
And the mood of the opera rose to unprecedented heights, and not only the mood rose, but also that which should rise in a young officer at the sight of half-naked women. Having sipped a little more from the bottle, the oper closed his eyes and began to dream ...
The painfully familiar voice of the regiment commander returned him to harsh reality, and this voice sounded very loud:
- Who? Why? How did he get here? Who authorized it? We push the car there, walk on foot, and he decomposes here !!!
Opening his eyes, the operas saw a crowd of their commanders and chiefs, with a haggard look, standing at the edge of the pool, and the commander of the regiment, who was poking his finger at him and continued to shout something, panting with indignation. After waiting for the regiment commander's fuse to dry up, mechanically taking a sip from the bottle, which caused the commander to have a nervous tic, the oper entered into a conversation:
- I was brought by car, there are sympathetic people, everyone is ready to help the naval pilot. Why are you shouting, Comrade Colonel? You yourself invited me to the hot springs, so I arrived.
- So I had to go with everyone when I, the regiment commander, invited you! And not to run around Kamchatka all alone!
The squadron political officer climbed out from behind the commander and immediately complained:
- So he also drinks, comrade commander, nothing sacred ...
- What's the matter? A day off has been announced in the regiment, and I have the right to drink - tea is not an urgent service.
The regiment commander blushed, gritted his teeth, opened his mouth wider and yelled:
- For unauthorized leaving the garrison - five days of arrest! Squadron commander! Under your personal control! Do not let him out of sight, otherwise he may go to St. Petersburg, he has a day off. Comes back with us when the car is repaired.
- There are five days of arrest! Comrade Colonel! Allow me to go to the garrison on my own, maybe your car will not be repaired soon, but why should I hang around here, the mood is not the same ...
- The squadron commander! He didn't understand anything! Don't let him go anywhere! Rides with us, under your control! Get him out of my sight ...
The war machine was repaired, and the oper departed to the garrison along with everyone else. The regiment commander canceled the meeting with the women fishermen, perhaps he was afraid that later he would not gather the personnel. In principle, nothing terrible happened, the plan was fulfilled - hot springs, women, it is true, only with a look, but some sediment remained in the operator's soul.
The deadline meted out by the command was coming to an end aviation Pacific Fleet to our regiment for the development of a new airfield. The development showed that the airfield is not suitable for permanent operation, it is built on a swamp, the “cushion” under the runway is small, and the plates “float”, after mass aircraft landings the plates rise, forming unacceptable joints. But as an alternate or operational airfield, it can be used, so that huge money was not all thrown to the wind.
Young potato
The people are tired. All is well in moderation, neither the fish nor the "Pliska" warmed their souls, the people were more and more lying around in the cells, stupidly examining the ceiling or the mesh of the second-tier bunk. Zampolites have strengthened total control over the personnel, no matter what happens ...
The zampolit walked through the barracks, listening sensitively to the conversations coming from behind every door. He could not hear anything special, the people were too lazy to even talk. But the sensitive nose of the political officer, long accustomed to the constant smell of decaying fish entrails, caught a fresh, long-forgotten aroma. The zampolit followed the smell and stopped at the door of the cell where the squadron warrant officers nestled.
After standing a little at the door, sniffing and not understanding anything, the political officer abruptly opened the door and saw the set table and the ensigns, eating something vividly. The long-forgotten aroma of boiled young potatoes spread across the room. Having swallowed the saliva that had come running, the political officer began to investigate:
- What it is?
- And what? A modest dinner - young potatoes, herbs, fish, caviar, bread.
- So I ask - what is it?
- This is a young potato.
- Where?! In the dining room they only give us some canned muck for submariners, where did you get the young potatoes from?
- Yes, from the field, where else?
- What the hell is the field? Where here, in Kamchatka, did you find a potato field?
- Yes, there is a field here, there is, they themselves accidentally found it yesterday. On the side of the strip where no one walks, there is a huge field of potatoes. We asked about it, it turned out that some of their Kamchatka collective farm has grown potatoes here, it was a good success, a little too small, however, but a lot. Yes, you sit down at the table, eat some potatoes, you’re out of the habit, I suppose. We also have something for kartocha.
Zampolita didn’t have to persuade him for a long time, pushing the ensigns aside, he sat down at the table, ate potatoes, caviar, washed down with "something" and leaned back satiatedly from the table. A thought came to his mind, which he immediately began to formulate aloud:
- The field, you say ... Smallish, but a lot ... It's good.
- Well, yes, it's a pity only by the end of the term they found out, but she only matured.
- Well, that's what guys. I will not inflate the case of the theft of national potatoes ...
- People's ... Yes, we are the army of the people, which means ours too!
- Do not interrupt! I will not inflate the matter, but you dig up a bag and bring it to my room, I'll take it home, let my wife know what kind of breadwinner I am.
- What bag? Where do we get the bag from?
- That’s all you need to teach. They say correctly that the political officer is his own father. And where is the military ingenuity? Look how many unnecessary mattresses are lying around. Here you open the mattress on one side, throw out the unnecessary filling, and you will get a wonderful bag.
- A bag? Yes, it will not be raised if you fill it with potatoes.
- And do not overstrain, carry it together. Well, okay, I went, and you study here. Yes, and don't talk about potatoes, otherwise our people are cunning ...
Flight
The day of the flight has come.
All the regiment's planes started up and began to taxi slowly along the main taxiway after the regiment commander's plane. After making sure that everyone was ready for takeoff, the regiment commander began to taxi into the runway.
Suddenly, a ragged "lawn" jumped out onto the taxiway, right in front of the commander's plane, a shaggy man jumped out of there and started shouting something, waving his arms and even showing obscene gestures. The commander reported to the flight director:
- "Rakat", here some drunk is driving along the taxi, it interferes with steering, now it is dancing in front of my plane.
- 901st, this is not drunk, this is their collective farm chairman, now the local commander will arrive, you need to talk to them, otherwise everything is lost ...
- What other collective farm? Remove strangers from the airfield, it's time to take off.
- 901st! You really need to talk to them, I repeat - you really need to!
The angry regiment commander got out of all the belts with which he was tied to the parachute and catapult and, without taking off his helmet, got out of the plane. A civilian man immediately jumped up to him and started shouting something, but nothing could be heard because of the roar of the engines. The commander of the aviation commandant's office arrived, everyone moved away from the planes, and a showdown began:
- What are you, man, completely fucking rushing under the plane?
- Yes, it’s all of you here, you bastards, dug up a whole field of experimental potatoes, you bastards!
- What potatoes? Who dug it up? Where?
- Yes, over there, behind the strip, we had a huge field of potatoes, it was good, everything was in order yesterday morning, today I arrived - no potatoes, well, not at all. And then you fly away, of course, your eagles dug up, bitches! I will report to the krai!
- This is the first time I hear about potatoes. Wait here, wait.
The commander took the commandant aside and began to understand the situation:
- Tell me.
- Yes it was. We did not tell you about the potatoes, they are behind the strip, you cannot see them. The collective farm has been learning to grow potatoes for a long time, this year everything has been ugly. Apparently, your eagles found the potatoes and dug them out before the flight.
- Well, exactly, our freaks ... What are we going to do?
- We will negotiate.
The chairman was called and negotiations began:
- Why are you so worried about potatoes? What's so valuable there? Last year it wasn’t ugly, so it’s not ugly in the same year?
- It might not have been ugly, but she was ugly! It's a shame!
- What do you want instead of potatoes?
- Instead of potatoes? Well, fuel, building materials ...
- You don't really dream, let's really - we will give kerosene, some building materials, well, little things, and you write off the potatoes for a crop failure. Deal? Commandant, give him half of everything he asks for, write it down to my regiment, and get him off the taxi, it's time for us to take off.
This is how our first stay at the Lenino airfield ended. We have been there several times, but I will not tell - nothing new happened.
Yes, the regiment commander did not say anything about potatoes after arriving on the mainland - he did not strain the people once again.
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