Grandpa is lucky

3
It was at that time when the Republic of Belarus was a parliamentary parliament, which was ruled by Spadar Shushkevich, and the government was Spadar KEBICH. Probably, it was then that those scholars would hold the first full-scale maneuvers with the participation of all law enforcement agencies subordinate to their immediate leadership in the IRREDIBLE REPUBLIC. And now they sent secret letters to the military departments with the notification of this military event.

I slept peacefully, did not touch anyone, was in the rank of junior sergeant’s guard – grandfather, and here on you, ROTA - LIFT, training and combat alert!
Well, anxiety is so anxious, yesterday warned, well, not so early (5 in the morning), dressed quietly, went for little and great need, also calmly, washed, shaved.

The jackal-company came (I cannot call him differently, I was more loyal to the spirits than the jackal, I scoffed as I could, especially when I was drunk. I’ve built a company and let's be bullied, yes, there will be a war and not God forbid, somebody will not submit to me - I will shoot on the spot, I have the right, I am an officer), they lined up, reported, left the barracks and the cars.

We drove for a long time, at first to the gathering place, put up tents, spent the night, in the morning the political commander came with some correspondent correspondent of the newspaper Zvyazda, I talked to him, he wrote down something from my words and left (after the exercises I read the article that I told and what surnames of distinguished fighters he called, practically wrote word for word, it turned out beautifully). From the meeting point to the training area. That's where the beauty is. Airplanes and turntables fly, heaters launch, Tanks they ride, before us they dig into the ground and disguise the GRAD system.

Since our company was not a close man, we settled in the settling tanks of some treatment facilities, built but not in operation, in one map we had a tent and a company company with a company commander in a separate tent, and our Urals with drivers, a platoon commander and third tent in another map. They disguised themselves as best they could, and, having set the watchmen, went to bed. At night, the company, platoon and foreman could not sleep, and these fools staged a firework of pyrotechnic means, waking the whole neighborhood and frightening, in their opinion, our conditional opponent.

In the morning, a surprising idea, in his opinion, came up to the company of a hangover, to set up a sentinel with a telephone on an embankment of sewage treatment plants 10 meters high in a single trench. This task to perform completely fell on my lack of sleep sick head. I took an automatic rifle, a shovel, an OZK raincoat (it was October) and walked to the embankment. I was lucky, the trench had already been dug, but what a trench, with knowledge, with a harnessed, disguise (so I did not notice it from the bottom). In general, I fell into it and watch pokemaril. An hour later he reported to the company - the trench was ready, the company company went and checked, oh, a miracle, praised. As a reward, he instructed me to be the permanent daytime watch with the cancellation of night sentries.

It took some days and now I sit in a trench, bastard and miss, in my pocket a blank cartridge, I charge this cartridge to the store in 11, fasten it, jerk the shutter and shoot. What started here, a platoon officer jumped out of his tent in some shorts and looked around where the gunmen ran, the soldiers ran around the GRAD facilities, the company troop, dozing on a folding stool near the tent with it, fell down and hurt himself on the ground, scratching his head, then his shoulder rose and let's swear everybody. After half a minute everything calmed down. Company, platoon and foreman on the phone call me to him. I went over, reporting that everything was in order. Company in anger: “Everything is all right, you say, did you hear the shot?” “I heard” - I say, a soldier ran into a bush near the embankment, fired a machine gun and ran towards the forest. ” The platoon commander for me: "Show me where, and me what!" "Please, - I say, - let's go." Well, we went. Showed. Let the platoon commander crawl around on his knees, and suddenly, lo and behold, I found the cartridge case (I dug my own in a trench, so I was calm). Doubts in my report immediately disappeared (I still wonder how no one had the idea to sniff the barrel of my machine gun, I even blew it, but you could sniff it out). Thanking for the service with his handshake sent to carry the watch on. This incident did not reach the headquarters.

Our teachings were detained for a day because of some kind of idiot who had thought up a machine gun, like he was stolen from him, kept us until they were found. And the exercises ended. We left, and I was left to help the foreman, we were the last to leave on the tent-covered Kamaz. In KAMAZ, besides us, Prapor was driving - the head of the dining room with several stew boxes and sprats in tomato sauce, a pair of bags of refined sugar. The dinner time was near, I looked at the foreman, the one at the chief, the chief handed me a jar of canned meat and sprat. The blessing of the bayonet is on the belt, and the spoon is in the pocket (although if you wish, you can open any can with a belt buckle). I don’t remember how much I ate these cans without bread, but I couldn’t look at the stew for a week, I couldn’t stand it anymore, I want to eat something, but in those times, pearl stew, where they could, in all dishes, after the USSR, there are a lot of it in warehouses left.

I once met a senior sergeant tankman in a cap, talked over tea with a cake, and he told me about his case at these exercises. We arrived, he said, drove into the forest, disguised. I am a sergeant, tank commander. We sit in the tank, waiting for dinner. Suddenly, the noise, I am in the instruments, looking at the helicopter nearby and looking at me, well, I’m the idle team, pointing at the helicopter and giving a shot, the helicopter somehow shook and he was out of sight. After the exercise, they call me to headquarters, assign an elder and send me on leave. It turns out that I fired a volley at a helicopter of a conditional enemy, and the helicopter pilot reported on this incident to his commanders, probably thinking that they would punish me.

These were the teachings. Grandpa is lucky.
3 comments
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  1. +2
    10 October 2012 18: 44
    Good stories, I like to read these, thanks!
    1. +2
      11 October 2012 11: 03
      You are always welcome, I think about the "Skull is lucky", look and get to the spirit.
  2. 0
    16 January 2013 01: 40
    I am pleased to read such stories when they are written by direct participants and knowledgeably