And there are fish here.
to my father
Sulimov Nikolai Vladimirovich
is dedicated to.
Sulimov Nikolai Vladimirovich
is dedicated to.
Each time, when driving along the “Olimpiyka” from Minsk towards the airport “Minsk-2” and crossing the Volma River, the head involuntarily turns to the right, and the eyes run along the water surface to its very end behind the bend. I always remember my father, who was an avid fisherman and sincerely rejoiced at every communication with him on a fishing trip, especially when our meetings became rare, occurring only during my vacations.
One of his favorite places was the Petrovichi reservoir, which he traveled all over in his inflatable boat and knew every meter of the water area. For the former front-line soldier during our outings on the water, of course, the most precious thing was not fishing, but our communication and conversations, especially about my service many thousands of kilometers from home.
On one of these fishing trips, when there was no catastrophic bite, and we had already changed many places, I suggested heading to a small bay along the right bank, bordered by rare bushes. My father categorically objected, saying that the depth there is small, but in general there are no fish there.
- Yes, the depth here is under four meters, and there is fish here!
... Now, remembering our conversation, I involuntarily smile, although longing for the departed father squeezes my heart. Well, then with humor I remembered a case from my tank life, when the fish were collected directly from the grids of tank radiators. Although, to be honest, on that distant sunny day, we were far from laughing, and then hardly anyone would have dared to call a humorous picture.
There is one area in tank business that is not very popular with authors who have recently rushed together to write and shoot various films about tankers. Maybe because it does not have vivid examples from combat practice, and is not particularly advertised at various exercises, as if this is an ordinary ordinary topic.
…Underwater driving. Everything connected with it for most real tankers is always associated with a lingering sense of danger and anxiety. It is beautiful to watch from the outside how the tank moves under water with an air supply pipe that cuts through the waves, how it effectively goes ashore, similar to a floating submarine, but being there inside is very, very, as young people would say now - dumb ...
- How do you know? What are you fishing here?
- No, I didn’t fish, but I saw fish.
Having chosen a place in the middle of the bay, we carefully lowered two string-bags with stones, which served as anchors for us, and began to cast fishing rods. My father patiently waited for my story, because he loved everything tank. At the front, he was a tank officer for several months, but then, by the will of military fate, he became first a signalman, and then a sapper. Nevertheless, he knew tank business and sometimes, although extremely reluctantly, talked about his front-line affairs, often stopping to swallow a lump that had risen in his throat.
Now, remembering my father, I remember that fishing, which, unfortunately, became the last joint for us, and my own story, and even more so the events that served as its basis, and which periodically pop up before my eyes, especially when I meet people who were their witnesses or participants.
... This bay, like no other, was suitable for training in underwater driving for tankers and driving afloat for all types of floating equipment. Being a little less than two hundred meters wide, it had good banks for the entry and exit of tanks, and, in addition, it was possible, after overcoming a water barrier along the coast, to return to its original position. Well, nearby, everything floating was driven along the surface on the main channel, writing out the required maneuvers on the water.
The standard for our connection, and then the association, was to hold these classes in the summer period of study. It is difficult to say whether it was good or bad in terms of creating the most difficult conditions typical for winter, but it was the way it was. That time, too, everything went as it had many times before when I was a platoon commander, and already several times a tank company commander.
A week before classes, our one combat training vehicle with a crew left for the consolidated company. Usually deputies for armament of companies also went to the field camp near Volma with cars, but at that time we had a vacancy in the company, so we decided that a battalion deputy would be quite enough. Moreover, he was only recently appointed to the post and, naturally, was very energetic. Just in case, on the day when the most important check of the readiness of tanks was carried out - the tightness test using the "lock" method, he sent a platoon commander, who in the evening clearly reported that the vehicle was checked and ready.
The night before, they took up insulating gas masks IP-5. The foreman of the company, remembering the bitter experience of recent light diving training, when a couple of fighters mixed up their gas masks, and we almost ran into an emergency, even managed to build a company in them for evening verification and once again check the completeness, tags on bags with names.
He really did not want to have a difficult conversation with the company commander again, as he had after the last lessons in the pool. Then two tankers managed to go under water in other people's gas masks and draw water under the masks, which got into regenerative cartridges and doused their faces with heat. According to the law of universal meanness, these fighters, both gunners, were from Central Asia, who had never really seen the army and reservoirs, not to mention the fact that they did not know how to swim.
The first of them almost drowned when, after an underwater “walk”, and already attaching a tow rope to a hook under water, he suddenly began to chaotically wave his arms and try to drop a load from his shoulder - a belt with a tank truck. Fortunately, his tank commander, who had just climbed onto the side, without waiting for the command, again rushed into the water and helped him get out of the pool.
The second one was easier. Literally a minute later, he got out of the pool himself and immediately removed the mask from his face, without even releasing the straps. On the rest of the company, especially on those who have not yet been immersed, all this made the most painful impression. A short trial showed that the gas masks were in general incomprehensible, without tags and even without inscriptions on the mask with a ballpoint pen, as soldiers sometimes did.
It was not possible to re-launch these fighters under water, it almost came to hysterics. The political officer of the battalion, who was recently sent to us from the infantry for promotion, did not help either. The battalion commander, who came from the hydro simulator to train the exit from the flooded tank, looking at all this, suggested that he put on a gas mask himself and show the class under water by personal example. The poor senior lieutenant, who so beautifully appealed to the fighters and recalled the highest matters, shied away and mumbled something inarticulate about his lack of the necessary training.
By the way, then he lost his authority with the tankers in the battalion once and for all, and in general he soon disappeared somewhere, having barely received the captain's shoulder straps. Naturally, the company commander received for such miracles, and then platoon orders from me and then most of all, as expected, the foreman, mainly also for trying to download the rights that he was not responsible for this at all. So the senior instinct of self-preservation led to the fact that a rather exotic evening verification turned out.
In the morning, high spirits reigned in the company. Underwater driving is not an ordinary event. We raised the company an hour earlier, ordered breakfast at an earlier time. At the formation, I noticed that the entire company had a haircut almost bald. To my question, the foreman only shrugged his shoulders: “It’s them themselves!” The soldier's rumor, passed down from generation to generation, advised the tankers to cut their hair for a better fit of the mask to the head so that the water would not flow under the hair.
Well, here is Volma, our place for driving tanks under water and for infantry - infantry fighting vehicles afloat. While boxes with regenerative cartridges for gas masks were being unloaded from the car, and the foreman was collecting personal documents from the fighters so that they would not get wet if something happened, he went to look at the shore at the entrance to the water.
The day was just a feast for the eyes. There was not a cloud in the sky, the sun was starting to warm up noticeably. Boats of sappers scurried along the water, from which they finished placing buoys to mark the boundaries of the underwater route. He looked at them with slight envy, imagining what pleasure he would have experienced in their place from catching fish in his spare time.
Well, in the meantime, the foreman equipped an impromptu table on the box and issued regenerative cartridges for insulating gas masks and small cartridges for additional oxygen supply for signature.
My driver, when I approached, was just receiving a cartridge for my gas mask.
- Comrade captain, what about your tank commander? - the question of the foreman claw scratched on the nerves.
The question only seemed to be simple and harmless. Junior sergeant, the commander of my tank just returned from a business trip yesterday. He was going to enter a military school and spent a month at district training camps, where they were taught mathematics, the Russian language and other subjects of entrance exams. Thus, he did not pass light diving training and formally should not have been admitted to underwater driving.
But the guy was intelligent, obviously with a commanding streak, and yesterday for half an hour he begged me to let him work with the rest of the company. Reluctantly, I agreed: whether he will or will not do it is another question, but a company with an unprepared tank commander will have a hole in its combat training, and combat readiness in general. So the decision was made, and the other tank commanders in the evening trained him in the use of an insulating gas mask, however, without a regenerative cartridge.
So the question of the ensign was natural, although with an element of work for the public. Apparently, he harbored a grudge for his scolding when he was brought up on the subject of official duties, military duty and other high matters. So the question was definitely with a catch: you bring me up, but you yourself ...
- Give out, why ask, because yesterday everything was decided!
We began to receive tanks in the field park. "Instructed to tears" crews armed with cans of ZZK sealing putty and once again walked through the vehicles, covering up all possible cracks on the hull and turret to the displeasure of the regular crews of the vehicles, who saw this as distrust of their work.
Well, they checked all the tanks, drove them out of the park and lined them up in a column. The unusual appearance of machines with air supply pipes on the towers fascinated and definitely injected a certain dose of adrenaline. It is understandable. Underwater driving in terms of stress can be safely put ahead of regular shooting or throwing live grenades from a tank. Well, for the representatives of the peoples of Central Asia, it was probably like the first parachute jump.
They lined up in front of my car. Tankers, as a rule, are not tall anyway, and even in wearing life jackets and insulating gas masks on their chests, they looked like penguins, or even koloboks. The battalion commander conducted another briefing. As an experienced person, after general provisions and reminders, he ended it with a well-known tank joke: “What is the main thing in a tank? That's right, don't f**k!"
They fled to the cars, the battalion commander once again checked the connection with each crew, and with each commander and each driver. All the crews had already closed the hatches, and only I allowed myself to stand in the commander's hatch, trying carefully not to touch the thick strips of sealing grease, so as not to stain the overalls.
The head of the armored service of our corps approached, or "head of armor", as the army wits called this position. We had known each other for a long time, so he addressed me by my first name.
- Well, are you ready?
- Yes sir!
“Come on, show me your extra regenerative ammo…”
I cursed in my heart. I already considered myself a seasoned tanker so much that I didn’t even pay attention to such trifles and simply ignored this point in the preparation of a gas mask, believing that I could do without them.
- Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, I don’t need them, if anything I will jump out of the car, even without a gas mask!
“No, no, take it,” he handed me two cartridges and watched me carefully as I inserted them into the sockets on the breathing bag. - And give me the tubes, they will still come in handy.
... After many, many years, when both of us were already big bosses, he remembered this incident and everything that followed it. It turns out that while the battalion commander was instructing us, he looked at the issuance sheet from the foreman and saw an empty cell in the table right in the first line. Naturally, as they write in the reports, "the flaw was eliminated during the audit."
Well, here is the command: “First”, I am “Coast”, to the starting position - Forward!
He went down into the tower, closed the hatch, gave the command to the mechanic to start and move towards the flags at the entrance to the water. They stopped at the flags. He checked that the car was exactly looking at the flag on the other side, waited for the driver's report that he saw the leading sign, that the gyro-semi-compass was launched and set.
In the triplexes, it was clear how the battalion’s deputy armament was walking around the car with a small hammer on a long handle and knocking on all the removable elements of the equipment for underwater driving of the tank - the roofs over the radiators, the valve on the exhaust pipe and all sorts of other details. So for the last time, before entering the water, he checked the readiness of the machine at his checkpoint. When struck with a hammer, if there is slack somewhere or the bolts are poorly tightened, there is always a rattling sound. We were inside the tank, and even with the engine running, of course, we could not hear it.
- "First", I - "Coast" - Forward, forward!
Let's go. The entrance to the water was relatively gentle, so the oncoming wave, called the “Dolphin” by the tankers, was small, dousing only an inclined sheet and a little tower. The tank went forward, the water rose rapidly, and now the commander's cupola was under water.
Rays of sunlight played in the observation devices, bizarrely bending and intertwining with each other. Involuntarily admiring the play of light, I thought that I was seeing such a picture for the first time. Still, it's good to go under the water first, as long as the water is not mixed and stirred up by no one else!
I was also pleased that the car was well sealed, and there was no water flowing or dripping anywhere, as almost always happens after numerous crew changes in the classroom, closing and opening hatches.
Meanwhile, the voice of the battalion commander constantly sounded in the headphones: “First” - so, so! "First" - so, so! I didn't interfere, and I shouldn't. I still can’t see anything, so the battalion commander, as the head of the crossing, commands only the driver.
And then the engine, which had previously worked smoothly and powerfully, suddenly somehow sobbed and stalled. The idyllic mood was immediately replaced by anxiety.
- Mechanic, what's the matter?
“I don’t know, Comrade Captain, the engine has stalled.
- Start up!
In the silence that followed, they could hear the oil pump humming, and then the compressed air began to turn the crankshaft and pistons.
Dy-dy-dy-dy - dy-dy-dy. Silence again.
- "First", I'm "Coast", why are you standing?
- Engine stalled!
- Try to start! - the voice of the battalion commander betrayed his excitement.
- Mechanic, start! Let's immediately combined, air and starter! - praying to all the gods, I immediately shouted.
Dy-dy-dy.
- Mechanic, what's the matter?
- I don’t know, Comrade Captain, there is air in the cylinders, the batteries seem to be charged, but it won’t start!
- "First", I'm "Coast", well, what do you have there?
- Engine stalled and won't start.
- All right, stop and don't move. The evacuation service has already sailed to you.
In the sudden, deafening silence, a very strange sound for a tank began to emerge. It was like a small stream gurgling. He shook his head again - nothing! Usually it always drips somewhere under water, but here - nothing!
- Mechanic, where do we have water gurgling?
- I don’t know, but I’m already splashing on the bottom.
“Understood, don’t try to start again.” Did you hear Kombat?
- Yes sir!
Tried to calm down. The situation is unpleasant, but not so unique. In the end, this is what insulating gas masks are for, and tankers are taught light diving training for such cases.
Diving training! But in my place as a gunner there is a sergeant who did not pass it!
Turned his head to the left. There my tanker sat quietly, looking into his observation device, through which sunbeams made their way and added a little light to the dim illumination of the tower.
– Mechanic, how are you, can’t you see where the water is flowing from?
- No, you can’t see it, but I’m already sitting waist-deep in water.
- Crew! Put on and turn on insulating gas masks! My voice rang like a string.
I straightened the mask of my IP-5, I was about to turn on the regenerative cartridge, but then with peripheral vision I saw some too excessive movement behind the gun breech in the place of the gunner. There, my sergeant alternately clutched his mask, then felt something on his chest, apparently in search of a lever for launching a regenerative cartridge.
And then I realized that the problem was coming, and maybe trouble! A man was training to put on a gas mask, put on a mask, tighten the straps on it, but he basically couldn’t learn how to start it yesterday, because there was no regenerative cartridge!
Meanwhile, the water kept coming. Her legs were cold and it was felt that she had already risen almost to the knee and began to flow into her boots.
- Mechanic, how are you? - in response to silence, then I realized that he was already completely under water.
I somehow immediately forgot about putting on my gas mask. Scolding the tightness of the tower, he tried to bend over the breech of the gun, but the bracket for its fastening in the marching way interfered. Need to take it off! Usually, to get a thick metal finger out of the lugs on the breech, you need to shake the gun a little with the lifting mechanism. But there is no time to explain this to the tank commander, the water has already reached the waist!
But lucky! The finger slipped out as soon as it was pulled on the ring. He removed the lever from the lug in the roof of the tower, pushed it aside and, tossing and turning like a bear in a lair, in his life jacket and gas mask, advanced as far as possible to the gunner's place. He pulled off his headset from his head, put it on the gun, so as not to interfere.
Caught the sergeant's eye. Fortunately, there was no fear or confusion in him. There was only a feeling of guilt and shame for himself that he could not perform the procedure for starting the gas mask.
- Let's land your mask, - in the meantime, I already felt for the lever ring on his gas mask cartridge and bent it to the very bottom.
At first I tried to pull his mask over my head to inflate the breathing bag and start the gas mask, but it did not work because of the short hose. Okay, I pulled the mask up to myself and pressed it to my mouth at the exit to the tube. He took in more air, exhaled, took another breath and exhaled again. Finally warm air came in.
- Let's put it on! Everything is fine, the gas mask works!
Meanwhile, something hit him on the head. A telephone receiver dangled on a wire in front of his face, and voices could be heard from the air supply pipe, although it was impossible to understand what they were saying. It was the evacuation group that swam up on the boat and lowered this very tube through the pipe to communicate with the crew.
Crew, how are you? – this question has undoubtedly been the best seller of today.
- It's okay, let's drag it to the shore as soon as possible!
It was heard that something was being done outside, tapping and grinding of metal on metal were heard. He remembered the headset, put it on his head.
- "First", I'm "Coast", why don't you answer? What do you have there?
The car is almost flooded, the water is up to my chest.
“Understood, don’t twitch, don’t try to open the hatches. The cable has already been hooked up, now you will be pulled ashore.
I remembered my gas mask. With anguish, he looked that the mask was already half in the water, and for sure she got into it, so you can forget about the gas mask. Okay, let's think of something (I caught myself thinking that I was expressing myself in the third person plural).
Meanwhile, the tank was slowly pulled forward. It was difficult to understand what our speed was, but in just a minute or a little more, dazzling sunlight splashed into the observation devices.
And inside the water was already up to my throat ...
Having dragged the tank about twenty meters from the water, the tractor stopped. Without delay, he immediately opened the hatch, jumped out of the tower and went to the driver's hatch. My heart was relieved when I saw that its lid began to slowly rise up. First, small jets, and then a real fountain of water rushed up from the opened hatch.
According to the law of communicating vessels, all the water from the tower rushed to freedom. A little later, the driver got out. Taking off his gas mask, he lowered his head guiltily and looked down. I don’t remember what I said to him then, but I didn’t scold him. Why scold if it is not clear what happened?
Thoughts were pretty mixed up in my head, my whole body was trembling with chills, and not only from the cold of wet clothes. He jumped on the tank again, tapped the gunner's hatch with the turret key - no reaction. My heart skipped a beat again.
I lowered my head into the open commander's hatch - from the gunner's seat, the eyepieces of the gas mask glasses looked at me. He pointed his finger up to get out. The hatch immediately opened and my failed drowned man quickly got out of it.
And then such peace came to the soul, which is probably called God's grace ...
In the meantime, our deputy for armament of the battalion ran up to the tank. He was a little younger than me, very little in office, so he can be forgiven for running around the tank senselessly for some time, saying that he had checked everything, that everything was fine!
A tank passed by, then another. The lessons continued.
In the meantime, the deputy for armaments and I stood on the roof of the engine, began to discuss what could happen. The first thought - that there is no hatch on the bottom, disappeared after the mechanic crawled under the car and reported that everything was in place. Viewed from above. Like, too, all the hatches and plugs in their places. They bent down, and almost licking every millimeter of armor, examined everything from above, but did not see anything.
They wanted to give a command to the driver to open the hatch on the bottom to release water, but just then the corps chief of the armored service approached with a whole bunch of different officers and forbade this, since the commission should inspect the car.
Again, already five or even six of us examined the whole car. The hatch on the heater looked suspicious, but everything turned out to be normal there. Nothing!..
And then the head of the armored service, who was standing a little to the side and did not participate in our fuss, suddenly asked me a question: “Have you already turned the tower?” Slightly thinking and mentally going over all our actions, he answered: “No, they didn’t turn.”
- So you have the left cover on the radiator raised, it does not lie in place.
We looked and for sure, one of the covers above the radiator does not fit snugly against it. It seems like the lid stays in place and is even closed with a latch, but the gap between it and the radiator is almost a finger thick! From above, this was not visible, but only from the side, and even then only from a certain angle. We were taken aback. Nothing is clear, how could this happen?
Once again, everything was examined from above, from the side, and then the “head of the armor” pointed to the towing cable, which was hooked to the hook at the stern with one thimble, and its other end with a rope to the signal float was thrown over a pin made of reinforcement, which was welded for this in front activities on the side of the tower.
So, this cable, lying in a small recess between the engine roof and the spare parts box on the left shelf, turned out to be under a small tide on the left radiator cap. It is difficult to say how this roof was closed, but the latches were all in place, but under the lid there was a gap of a centimeter or even one and a half.
And the most interesting thing is that the lid was very rigid, without bending, as if it should be so. Apparently, through this gap, water entered the engine compartment, and there it was already sucked into the air cleaner.
We opened the cork in the bottom, waited until the water came out of the car, forming a rather large puddle. They stood and looked at all this with annoyance and sadness. The head of the armored service, a man with great life and military experience, to defuse the situation, joked: “But if I could collect all this water, measure its amount, add three stupid tankers there, and now, following the precepts of grandfather Archimedes, determine the amount of free armor spaces."
They smiled crookedly, about stupid tankers - this is just about us ...
When the water left, they turned the tower. She pushed against the lug of the thrust with her tide, the covers over the radiators and over the exhaust shutters jumped up. Well, there, on the left radiator, there were three small fishes, two perches and one roach, which even tried to beat with its tail. How they managed to swim into this gap, one could only guess.
- Well, my people say that there are no fish here. Everything is there, you need to be able to catch, get out, learn!
... On this, of course, the epic did not end.
I had to give a lot of explanations, write explanatory notes.
By the way, already in the park they tried to repeat the situation with the cable and the tide on the lid, but they did not manage to do this. Some sort of mystic. They figured if they decided to pull the tank back and hitched onto the rear towline, pulled it out from under the cover, and then the puzzle would become even more complicated.
So I quite deservedly received my vygovoreshnik, which, however, was removed after three months. It was very lucky then that they no longer tried to start the engine and the water hammer, which all tankers are afraid of, did not take place, and we did not have to see the "hand of friendship" of the connecting rod through the broken crankcase.
And so they drained and changed the oil in the engine, cranked it manually with a crowbar, and started it up without any problems. We were very afraid that the instruments inside the car would not work, but after drying with open hatches and a raised engine roof in the open air for a week, everything worked without problems. The air compressor was just a little sloppy, and even then after a while it cleared itself of water and started working normally.
Well, my tank commander, who underwent light diving training in such extreme conditions, entered a military school, though not in a tank one. He came on his cadet leave, went to the company. He told me that no one believed his stories about that incident, considering it to be soldiers' tales, which the guys who came from the troops love to poison the first-year cadets so much.
And the picture of three fish on the grid of the engine radiator somehow sealed itself in my memory. It seems that even now I will tell you exactly where which of them lay and where the heads of each of them looked.
... Driving along the Olimpiyka from Minsk towards the Minsk-2 airport and crossing the Volma River, I always remember my father and how my story ended then: “There is fish here! I checked it myself and even caught it!
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