The Chukotka Fleet: The Anatomy of a Murder

Part Three

-

Hi, how are you?
- It's fine, I'm creaking...
- You're scratching your pens, I hope? I've read your fables, and you're going crazy... You're probably lying! People can't live there like that, they would have scattered long ago!
- Yeah, right, once you get there, there's no way back...
— What, are there sentries and the exit is covered with barbed wire?
"You keep laughing... The North, Chukotka—they're so captivating... And you know what a thrill it was, in today's terms! What did we ever brag about, remember? 'Just try that—how dare you?' It was that pioneer spirit that kept life in the North going..."
-It's true... Well, about the taranka?
-Let's buzz...

A very important preface…

Don't look here for a deep philosophical reflection or scholarly analysis of that time. The timeline of the collapse of the country and its army, the destruction of the KGB and its structures, is known today down to the day and minute. The names of those who did more to destroy the state and its institutions than all the world's enemies and intelligence agencies combined, yet were not declared traitors to the Motherland and bore no real responsibility, are also mentioned. Need I remind you? Not even the top officials. Well, a certain Bakatin didn't even hide the task assigned to him. In his book, "Getting Rid of the KGB," he defined his own role in the Committee this way: "I was forced not just to slaughter cattle—to exterminate them…"

This is a story about what happened thousands of kilometers from the center of the country, from its political and social life, beyond Moscow and Leningrad. These two capitals decided what, how, and in what ways the country would live and where it would go. Just 3-5 percent of the country's population made choices that the remaining 90-95% of the country's population happily or voluntarily accepted. I wouldn't say the country's population accepted this course imposed by the remaining minority; rather, the majority was forced to submit to the minority. But that's how things work. historical processes are objective reality.

On December 8, 1991, the presidents of the Russian Federation, Belarus, and Ukraine announced the dissolution of the USSR and the creation of the Commonwealth of Independent States in Minsk. As a result of the collapse of the USSR between 1991 and 1993, up to 40 percent of the country's land, sea, and aviation Forces and assets, including engineering structures and equipment, housing and barracks at their locations, including all checkpoints along international transport routes heading west. Consequently, a significant portion of the Russian Federation's state border remained undefended in terms of military presence.

For us, and if anyone doesn't like this generalization, I'll put it more simply: I didn't understand the motives and actions of the political forces back then, and I still consider them mistaken and destructive. We're reaping the consequences now, and we'll be reaping them for a long time to come. My personal negative attitude toward what happened in the late 80s and 90s hasn't changed.

Despite this, I'll tell you what happened, even though 99,999% of the country's population never experienced it... Chukotka isn't even a province; people simply worked, lived, and served there as best they could, in the conditions that existed... The population of Chukotka as a whole was 156 people, at its peak in 1990—162, now—48, just for reference...

This will be the most difficult chapter of my story.

This is what the territory of the 110th Pogo looked like in the early summer of 1990.

110 POGO in winter, there's no one left...

This is still Chukotka, brothers...
Urahan

So, on the evening of December 22, 1990, a storm warning was received, with winds of 17–20 m/s expected, with gusts up to 27 m/s. The division commander declared Storm Warning 3 (SW3). He himself arrived at the floating pier and, together with the duty officer, checked the boats' fastenings. At 10:00 PM, he again checked the floating pier and boats' fastenings. At 11:15 PM, according to the official document, the division commander inspected the floating pier and boats for fastenings a second time. By this time, the wind had increased to 20–23 m/s, no ice movement was observed, and the SW3 was raised to Storm Warning 2.

A blizzard began, covering everything in snow. The division commander declared SHG-1 and summoned the officers from their homes. The pier was about 250-300 meters from the houses, and the warrant officers quickly arrived at the boats. The division commander remained at the pier, busy preparing the anchorage for various scenarios. Wind speed was monitored periodically with a hand-held anemometer; the situation was difficult, but not critical. And what else could be done? The boats and the pier were frozen in ice, everything was covered in snow. The boats started the auxiliary diesel generators and prepared the main engines, but it was premature to start them and bring them up to speed—there might not be enough water to cool the engines, and the scuppers were clogged with slush, so starting the engines now would practically destroy them. Besides, the very possibility of finding open water seemed far-fetched.

But... at 0:05 on December 23, the wind suddenly increased to 40 m/s or more. There was no longer anything, time, or anyone to measure it; it was already a hurricane. And the day before the hurricane, the port icebreaker "punctured" a channel in the ice in Komsomolskaya Bay. And not just a puncture, but during the day of the 22nd, the icebreaker passed through Komsomolskaya Bay a couple more times, loosening the already tightening ice sheet. As experience has shown, if the ice is not forcibly damaged, a smooth ice field reliably holds hurricane winds, without breaking the upper ice cover. However, if a smooth ice field is broken up, then for the ice in the broken zone to restore its thickness and the strength of the ice cover, either extreme frosts of approximately -25-35 degrees Celsius for 24 hours, or -20 degrees Celsius for two days, are required. Then the ice field effectively withstands hurricane winds.

In fact, an interesting phenomenon has been observed in Chukotka, common in polar latitudes: the bay, frozen and covered with ice, continues to sink at low tide, "breathing." The tides continue to ebb and flow, the water level sometimes rises at high tide, and water can even emerge through cracks onto the ice surface, then sinks at low tide, and even the sound of the ice changes—it sounds hollow rather than solid. The range of this "breathing" can be as much as half a meter. At low tide, the ice can even bend downwards, but if it's thick, the surface remains level.

Winter mooring of the division's boats in 1991/1992 at a new location near the Hydrobase pier

And so they met—the creation of human hands, cutting through the bay's uniform ice field, and a hurricane-force wind blowing at a precise angle under the ice cover along the entire fairway. And the ice was turned inside out...

That night, over the course of five to seven minutes, a hurricane-force wind cracked the ice along the line created by the harbor icebreaker. Then came a cascading destruction of the ice cover across the entire water area. The bay lost ice at a terrifying speed and with a loud roar. It was terrifying to watch, as nature, right before his eyes, showed the self-important man its colossal power and strength, and how insignificant man is before the elements. In a matter of minutes, the bay, from a snow-white plain covered in thick ice, began to shimmer ominously with a black surface. A wave instantly rose and drove it toward the anchorage, crushing everything in its path.

A few minutes later, the ice had broken right up to our floating dock... Komsomolskaya Bay is a very narrow bay, seemingly cramped for wind and waves to gather momentum... But within minutes, the waves had risen to 3 meters, and the boats were tossed around like splinters—and that's no figure of speech. A hundred tons of metal was tossed around like feathers, the boats smashed against each other, and were thrown against the dock. The floating dock itself was tossed about like a sheet of paper, tearing 11 nylon and steel mooring lines securing the right side of the dock to the embankment in just 10 minutes. The floating dock and its boats were turned 60 degrees, and the entire group drifted away from the embankment. As they turned, the boats piled up against each other and the pier simultaneously, posing a huge risk of them being shattered like eggshells. They attempted to rescue several people from one of the boats, but had to abandon the idea—it was practically impossible to move from the boat to the pier or another boat, and the risk of losing personnel was too great, almost inevitable.

After some time, the boats (thank God!) were facing the wind. The crews took measures to save the boats and maintain the moorings, using fenders to soften the impact. Waves washed over the deck and superstructure, and almost immediately the metal was covered in a crust of ice. The detachment sent a crawler transporter, and with its help they kept the floating pier from falling, attaching several cables to it with great effort. And so they held on—the crawler transporter pounded the embankment with its tracks, and with its weight and engine, kept the floating pier from breaking away. But even these efforts were insufficient—the crawler transporter gradually slid down the embankment into the water. And if the hurricane-force wind had continued for another 30-40 minutes, the outcome could have been tragic... The detachment was preparing a second crawler transporter; the soldiers had it up and were ready to send one. танк T-62 (or maybe T-55, I can't confirm this with anyone right now) as an anchor and backup for our GTS, if things get tough...

The situation was almost catastrophic. As the boat commanders later said, they'd never experienced anything like it. The boats were smashing against the pier, against each other, and against the ground. The waves reached 2-3 meters, so the bottom was sometimes visible, as the depth at the floating dock was about 3-4 meters. And all this was accompanied by snow flurries, making it completely impossible to see anything...

It's a terrifying feeling—suddenly, before your eyes, a tragedy unfolds, boats are destroyed, people might die—and you can do next to nothing to help them. You just shout encouragement into the radio and megaphone, give commands, tug on the ropes and mooring lines, curse like crazy, and you yourself are starting to lose faith in a successful outcome. Only a complete idiot would envy the division commander in such a situation. After all, no matter how much you curse, you need to quickly assess the situation while standing on the pier embankment, direct the boats, coordinate the efforts of the rescue team and the hydroelectric power station, and also make sure you yourself don't get blown away, washed away, or killed by a broken rope.

But most of all, they feared panic on board the boats. Signs of it were already present, and they sought to prevent the crews' fear from escalating into hysteria—no one would have survived. To the credit of the crews, their commanders, and the command, the initial signs of panic were quickly and successfully suppressed. They fought for survivability and the elements, literally selflessly. And they had to fight. The boats sustained cracks and holes from impacts with the bottom, and seawater began to leak into compartments, threatening to shut down the diesel generator and make the boat uncontrollable.

But the hard-working boats stood firm to the last. They held firm and saved their crews, even though they were mercilessly battered against each other, the ground, and the floating dock. The hulls withstood the enormous stress, with only a few cracks forming around the framing and keel when they struck the ground. Imagine—a boat, weighing over a hundred tons of iron, is tossed against the ground by a wave, and the hull doesn't come apart at the seams.

And after two hours of these terrible tortures by the elements, the Lord took pity, and the wind died down to 22-27 m/s, that is, it became quiet - in comparison with the apocalypse that had just raged, the crews grew bolder and began to secure new/old mooring lines.

The dry lines of the division commander’s report testify:

I hereby report that on the night of December 22-23, as a result of a natural disaster—winds of up to 40 meters per second or more, which caused ice to break up in Komsomolskaya Bay and created waves up to 2-3 meters high—the division's floating pier shifted and turned. The boats sustained the following damage as a result of being pushed against the pier and each other, as well as due to heavy seas and impacts with the ground:
— PSKA 273, boat commander, midshipman Tereshchenko — border lights are broken, the side of the steering compartment above the waterline is dented 5x10 cm;
— PSKA 279, boat commander, midshipman Mamontov — the boat lights are broken, the bulwark is dented from frames 5 to 11 on the starboard side, the porthole in the crew quarters is broken, the porthole in the commander’s cabin is deformed, the rubber fender is torn off from frames 3 to 18, the hull is dented from frames 5 to 11;
— PSKA 281 (side number 695), boat commander, midshipman Belyaevskov — two cracks in the bottom in the center plane (DP) from frames 16 to 18, 25 cm long, 0,2-0,5 cm wide, dented bulwarks at frames 6-15 on the port side and 21-40 on the starboard side, broken masthead lights, knocked off ventilation shaft to the engine room on the upper deck.

The boats' equipment, including the propulsion system, steering nozzle, and shaft line, are in good working order and were tested after the hurricane. In cooperation with the port's SRM representatives, the damage can be repaired before the start of navigation by the port's SRM personnel.

No personnel were harmed and no injuries were reported.

…. A complex pre-emergency situation at the division's parking lot arose as a result of unpredictable meteorological conditions and the lack of necessary basing and support facilities.
To prevent similar situations in the future, it is necessary to ensure that the division's base is located in Provideniya, that material and financial resources are allocated for this purpose, that priority is given to providing the division with all types of provisions, taking into account the special conditions of Chukotka, and that changes are made to the division's staffing as soon as possible to ensure its deployment in Provideniya.

An eloquent document. Essentially, the officer who wrote it refused to simply blame it on the elements (though he could have, and was actively encouraged to do so)—well, that's just how it turned out, and no one's to blame, just the North, however... I happened to see the original version of this report; there were no embellishments or curtsies. It specifically listed dates, names, reports, who "sent" whom and when regarding the organization of the camp, what measures were proposed, and at whose behest they were rejected...

I hope that then too everything and everyone got it…

However, surprisingly, almost all of the issues listed in the report were implemented, with varying degrees of success, between 1991 and 1993. However, all this was in vain: "reforms" were already underway, the Committee and the Border Service itself were being destroyed, and border security forces and resources were being reduced. It turned out that the division's deployment was counter-intuitive to the curtailment of border security. And the main goal—returning the division to the naval department—failed. As the popular army saying goes, "the boot is always higher than the shoe." So the boat division was left to die "in the infantry."

Toward morning, the wind died down to a calm 10-15 m/s. With great effort, the floating dock was partially reversed with the help of the hydroelectric power station, the boats were lined up, and their mooring lines and cables were reattached to the pier. Within a few hours of the storm, the boats had been drenched in seawater, and the wind and cold had left them covered in a thick layer of ice—the superstructure, the deck, even the sides.

The crews and command were exhausted from the struggle for survival, but the battle for survivability still lay ahead. It only seemed so on the surface—what's so serious? A few cracks, broken portholes, dented sides, a few hours of work—and everything would be restored...

Will it be restored? Yes, of course! But who, when, where, and with what will the work be done? Where are those miracle ship-hull welders, the docks, the electrodes, the rods and sheets of metal for hull repairs, where are those portholes?

And there are many other things that don’t answer the question “where?” Nowhere, this is Chukotka. A plane will arrive here in 15-20 days, maybe even a month, if the weather is good. There's simply no other way to deliver anything. And there won't be any until the end of April.

A brief digression. Chukotka Aviation:

Aviation is the only hope and operational mechanism for maintaining life in Chukotka from autumn to summer. A pilot or helicopter pilot in Chukotka—well, if not God himself, then his deputy for all matters. The 7th UAE (military unit 2305) was stationed in Ureliky since 1947, and although the acronym is pronounced United Arab Emirates (and what, it looks good against the backdrop of Chukotka!), but it was an ordinary (of course, completely extraordinary, in Chukotka!) 7th Separate Aviation Squadron of the Border Troops, and it stood there until 2003, in the same year the 110th Border Guard Squadron was transferred to Anadyr.

Our hope and joy is the UAE's aviation (Not to be confused with the United Arab Emirates! Well, at least a little bit.) at the Providence airfield

The 7th UAE had MI-8 and MI-8MT helicopters and AN-24/26 aircraft. Incidentally, if you quarrel with a pilot, it's time to pack your bags and leave. Why? You've violated something sacred—you've offended the pilot! And how can you leave? How can you possibly leave? After all, you can only get out by boat or ship in the summer, and even then, only with a lot of connections, if you can find a 3-5 ton container for your household belongings...

Memory is a selective thing, but Captain Valera Shkrobot, the Mi-8 helicopter commander, is etched in my memory. He was one of the most respected pilots, had served in Afghanistan more than once, flew like a god, and was a very free and cheerful person. Sadly, Valera died at 52 of a stroke on January 1, 2014. May he forever be remembered... Words cannot describe the things he did in his helicopter. I had the opportunity to fly with him several times, and the memories last a lifetime. Once, a soldier was being picked up from the PZ (suicide); due to fog, we had to spend the night. We took a little break, as is aviation tradition, when one crew member is "on duty." Early in the morning, a window in the weather appeared, and we were given clearance to fly home. With a firm hand, the commander performed such an "Afghan-style" takeoff maneuver with his handle, as if he were pulling the aircraft out from under fire and Stingers, that those in the cabin could already imagine themselves next to the sad cargo...

Great masters of their craft served there. Old-timers recounted that in 1989 (or was it 1988?), the Beringia International Sled Dog Race was held in Provideniya, and an American four-engine Hercules aircraft brought the American and Canadian Laika teams.

Its engines are low, and during landing, it smashed its propellers on the gravel runway at Providence. The blades are crooked and rose-colored, and the plane can't take off. The American pilots are completely out of it—how are they supposed to get back?

Our guys called an engineer from the airfield support group to their "enemy-friend." The guy was in the typical "lightly shaved, blue-drunk" state after the weekend, but he looked thoughtfully at the curled blades and said, "Don't worry, we'll fix it right now."

They removed the propellers from the plane and straightened them out on an anvil with a sledgehammer, using a sharp aviation eye and a caliper. And they "polished" the work by washing the baked-on systems of the working people... No, not in full view of the astonished public in the form of the management, but strictly within the creative team, of course. The Americans were in a state of complete amazement, to politely describe what was happening... And they flew home successfully and joyfully (or perhaps in utter fear, I haven't checked).

So, what wasn't delivered by air to Chukotka... Construction materials, military supplies, food, furniture, fuel, all types of equipment and supplies, spare parts, and people, people, people. And all kinds of aviation were involved—from regular (ha-ha, regular, depending on the weather) Aeroflot flights to military transport aircraft of the border troops.

One day, our officer's wife was flying to Kamchatka and then on to the mainland. She was flying with her beloved cat, Timofey. And then, at the Anadyr airport, they had to stop for the night. The cat wasn't allowed into the hotel, so he was locked in the plane. It was a fatal mistake on the part of the crew... The cat absolutely loved raw meat. Any kind. And the crew was carrying... "Bush's legs" as a small "contraband" dealt with by local businessmen.

In the morning, everyone came aboard, and the crew, to put it mildly, was a bit embarrassed. The cat had ripped apart a couple of cardboard boxes of chicken, gorged himself, the little wretch, and hid from a subtle premonition of impending punishment... The stern faces of the crew boded ill for him. His owner, of course, rushed to her pet's defense, offering the crew monetary compensation for the damaged chicken, but ultimately, they forgave the scoundrel. The cat, however, only purred—at first menacingly (and he was a big cat), and then like a little kitten, when he realized he wasn't going to be chased around the plane with a stick, and he jumped into his owner's lap for cover.

In fact, during our couple of years of service in Chukotka, our military transport aviation unit flew quite a few times. We even managed to film a short movie (VHS-C and SuperVHS cameras were already available, albeit rare, and a little later, Video 8 and Hi8) of the crew's work during takeoff, landing, and in flight... quite an interesting film!

We're coming back….

The fight for survivability

And since the boat is small, it’s still surface ship, then become underwater He certainly didn't want to. The cracks and holes in the hull were allowing water to enter the boat at a far from ridiculous rate. The prospect was simple: in a couple of days, the ice would freeze to the bottom, including in the cracks and holes, the ice would tear apart these cracks even further, and voila... And if it didn't freeze, the compartment would flood quite quickly. Something had to be done.

The calculation of water intake is done using the formula:

Basic flow rate formula (m³/s):
Q = μ⋅F⋅√(2⋅g⋅H)
𝑄 — water flow rate (volume per second).

𝜇 (mu): discharge coefficient (usually 0.65–0.75, higher for larger holes).

𝐹: area of ​​the hole (m²).

𝑔: acceleration due to gravity (9.8 m/s²).

𝐻: water pressure (distance from the waterline to the center of gravity of the hole).

For our two obvious cracks along the keel between frames 16-18, each 25 cm long and 0,3-0,5 cm wide (we'll use 4 mm), at a draft of 1,85 m, that's a not-so-meaningful 0,007832 m³/s. That means every second, a boat with a displacement of 102 tons is taking in almost 8 liters of seawater, or 480 liters/minute = 28,800 liters/hour. In reality, it was less, about 0,5 liters/second, as the cracks were clogged with slushy ice, slowing the water inflow. About 30 liters/minute (1,800 liters/hour) were accumulating, a very significant rate for such a small boat.

Don't laugh, you're naturally used to counting in tons and cubes! But this is a boat, not a Project 941 submarine (popularly known as a "crocodile" or "hippopotamus") or a cruiser. And even though the water was, of course, being pumped out all this time using the standard dewatering equipment, we were shaking like an aspen leaf—we were afraid the scuppers would get clogged with slush. Of course, the scuppers clogged regularly... Let me remind you, outside: the water temperature was -2 to -3, the air temperature -20°C. It wasn't hot, but it made you sweat... And when the deck planking under the companionway to the cabins and forecastle became covered in water, not only did my back sweat, but I got goosebumps...

The morning after the hurricane, the boat's captain and I lifted the decking and reached the underwater hull planking and framing. What we saw was deeply alarming—there were cracks, visible and invisible, through which seawater was leaking. Most likely (and this was confirmed during the hull inspection at the dock), the invisible crack was along the hull framing—right along the keel and frame. And accessing these cracks was practically impossible in these conditions, meaning neither wedge-stuffing it with a wooden wedge nor any other means of sealing it was possible. A patch was also impossible to install—it was impossible to pass a tarpaulin under the hull; the ice was in the way. A diver was needed, and even among the cheerful Chukchi, divers truly insane enough to work in rough seas and freezing temperatures were hard to find.

The solution was to fill the damaged section of the compartment with waterproof, quick-setting concrete of at least grade 500, approximately 20-30 cm thick. So what? Theory says so. Reality, of course, resists this with all its might. No one in the vast expanses of Chukotka had such concrete, not at any price or equivalent... With great difficulty, we begged (and where did they get it from?) two bags (!!!) of grade 400 cement from the boiler room. It's not even a shortage, it's a gold mine. But cement alone isn't enough—we need good sand. Where can we get it in Chukotka? Nowhere... We coaxed it from some stockpile dating back to the Alaskan exploration era...

This is where the "currency" issue came to the fore. No one (well, almost no one) was interested in some miserable money, especially non-cash, which no one knew when it would arrive... And the sheer quantity of paper money (and money, of course) required for it was simply unimaginable, and even more approvals were needed. His Majesty, the all-Union equivalent of "gold reserves," was put into use—spirit, lyrically called "awl" by sailors, "sword" by pilots; the infantry didn't have its own term, using "imported" ones. Incidentally, the sailors had another term—SHKV: "stolen ship's awl"... The Russian language is rich! A significant amount was needed, and here Molchanovsky provided charitable assistance—his farm had enough goods to buy half of Chukotka, if necessary... I think he would have successfully bought Alaska, too, but for some reason he was never given such a task... After all, the guys in Moscow were rather weak, some kind of downtrodden...

And another local peculiarity (in the opinion of a ship's officer): in Chukotka, they washed down the awl with... apple or orange juice, water, mineral water, tomato juice... For a "normal" ship's officer, it was bad form to waste the product so ineptly... Yes, sir... The ship's officer treated this beneficial drink with the utmost respect; it impressed the Chukotka people and inspired confidence in the future...

Well, let's not dwell on sad things. We still have to make concrete!

So what? Mixing sand and cement seems like a simple task, but on the mainland, and for construction workers, it's a hassle. What about Chukotka? In winter? On a boat? In the confined space under a gangway? And in what proportions? And then what? Pour the resulting solution into the cracked area? How? Water is applied under slight pressure (almost 2 kg), it will wash away the solution, and everything will be in vain... There's no one and nothing to weld underwater; there are no welders of the required qualifications, no electrodes, no equipment, no conditions.

A fast-setting mortar (not just fast, but immediate, like liquid nitrogen!) was needed, one that would be water-resistant and adhere to the ship's timbers. Such a mortar, it turned out, could be made by adding liquid glass to the cement-sand mixture. Such clever words stunned everyone I spoke to about it. Liquid glass... What is it? And where could it be found? Who has it?

And, lo and behold, they finally found this magical substance called "liquid glass"! They brought it in commercial quantity—an entire canister! 4 liters (I think I wasn't far off), and immediately warned—they don't have any more of this miracle. In any quantity. Anywhere. Not for any price. And liquid glass, it turns out, is just office (silicate) glue... And the ratio is one-third of the solution.

Of course, no one had any experience using this entire gentleman's kit... No one who had ever worked with concrete before had ever seen it closer to television than on television. How and what to mix, in what order and in what ratios—nobody knew, and how much liquid glass to add—nobody knew. The boat's captain and I started experimenting, because there was no way out; no wizard in a blue helicopter was going to show up.

But consulting on the ZAS TLG is definitely rare. We received such consultations on the ZAS TLG all the way from the headquarters of the Naval Department's NEMS district... It was like a movie: the district was on the ZAS TLG, then the ZAS radio operators brought the text to the operations detachment, who transmitted it by phone or VHF to the boat. It was beautiful, all the hard work of the developers and codebreakers immediately went down the drain... "Our American friends" read all of this perfectly. We're simple guys, after all, and we'll pay a high price. But I'm sure the Americans couldn't understand the "liquid glass" and the copious interjections of the duty officer on the phone, and they were shocked—the Russians were doing something secret!

And the water keeps coming in... We'll either drown (of course, not "forever" and not right away—the depth in the docking area is 3-4 meters), or we'll try to keep the boat afloat. That's our only choice. We decided to mix the mixture in bulk (a scrap tin basin, that is!). We mixed a scrap of mortar practically by hand, trying to isolate the damaged area to create a cup into which to pour the concrete. Since the compartment was very cramped—the boat is small, the bulkheads, the framing, the ladders, the machinery—everything is very, very cramped—we had to mix the mortar and pour it right there in the scrap tin, hunched over. We made the first batch, poured it into the damaged area, and waited... The water made a hole and started gushing through the concrete... We removed it, made a second batch of mortar, added more liquid glass, poured it again, and compressed everything we could from the outside... We waited... The water didn't seem to be gushing, so we repeated it again around the next crack... So, through trial and error, the water stopped coming in. In such cases, they write platitudes like "tired, but happy and blah-blah-blah"... It seems so, though.

No one could have guessed how reliable it was back then. It wasn't until the summer, back at the dock, that it became clear: it was sealed permanently. Even with a jackhammer, the concrete couldn't be removed from the hull; the entire concreted section had to be cut out and the frame members replaced with new ones.

These are the kinds of miracles our "orchestra" had to perform in Chukotka. Building "all this" in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky is no problem at all; everything is right there—a pier, a warehouse, a ship repair shop, docks, all kinds of welding, absolutely any materials and spare parts, any mortar, glue, or concrete, and all the specialists who can do it quickly and affordably…

In Chukotka, any minor malfunction or problem that wouldn't even be noticed on the mainland becomes as difficult to solve as a mission to the moon... And it has to be solved not with computers, the Academy of Sciences, or other wonderful things (I'm deliberately using the terminology of the time; the words "computer," "internet," and certainly "artificial intelligence" weren't widely used back then), but with an axe and some dirty tricks. And they solved it.

This epic had another positive effect. The division command and the boat commanders and their crews clearly became closer, as the harsh real-life conditions of a near-disaster revealed not only the leaders' strong-willed leadership and ability to oversee their subordinates, but also courage and dedication in the fight for the boats' survivability, demonstrated by both the highest and lowest ranks. No one shied away from responsibility, no one hid behind chain of command or the elements—the division commander made all necessary and risky decisions himself, immediately, assuming all the consequences of what could and could not happen. Cowards are not respected anywhere, especially at sea, and in this case, there were no cowards. And although some boat commanders and their subordinates, previously ignorant of authority and discipline, had to be periodically brought into line, this was now a more relaxed process, albeit not without incident.

Several documents survive illustrating this complex relationship, but overall, the result was the transformation of the division, which had not yet been fully deployed, consisting of three aging 1496 and two T-4M boats, into a more or less coherent military structure. Of course, the boat commanders had invaluable experience surviving in Chukotka's conditions and knowledge of the theater of operations, with its coves, shore approaches, experience of running aground (which happened occasionally, nothing unexpected), and the many other large and small nuances of life in this less-than-ideal region. By that time, the division headquarters was almost fully staffed, and it became somewhat easier to identify pressing problems and attempt to resolve them.

Logistics Department of the Chukotka Fleet

Chukchi fleet… No fleet, big or small, can survive without logistics support. In our case, logistics support was neither systematic, planned, nor organized. If something broke, the Chief of Staff of the Pogostvo Defense Forces was reported, an order was placed from the district, and then, as things turned out, without fanaticism, the necessary spare parts or supplies were airlifted from Petropavlovsk to Provideniya by ship or plane, which was much less common. Due to the peculiarities of navigation in the region, this logistics support sometimes arrived six months later, sometimes never, but the idea of ​​a divisional "tomorrow"—that was completely unheard of.

Incidentally, all property sent from the division to supply the boats, including uniforms, skipper's technical equipment (STI), spare parts, construction materials, and everything else, was immediately written off the division and district's books and balances and was not subject to inspection or accounting. Thus, by that time, the Chukotka group of boats was completely corrupted—no accounting, no accountability, not even a check on how all this stuff was being used... Naturally, this was the basis for complete and utter disgrace, misappropriation, and squandering. Often, this was payment for ship repair services, and often simply a matter of "you give me what I give you." The division's logistics chief and STI responded to the appointed division commander's question simply: "How can we not immediately write off the property sent there? Who will inspect it, and how? You've been assigned there now—so organize the process." There was, of course, a grain of truth in their words—people were surviving in Chukotka. And it was impossible, if not downright impossible, to maintain serious demand without full supplies. And what this leads to, how it corrupts the people there—those are questions for headquarters and the political department. That's the whole story.

But that's not all. While supply shortages in the 1980s and 1990s were at least partially offset by the availability of reserves in the district and division, by 1992 and 1993 and beyond, supplies ceased almost entirely—any supplies at all. The division had reached its quotas in 1991 and simply begged the district for supplies that hadn't been delivered for years, including spare parts and equipment, low-value items, consumables, and other supplies for maintaining the boats and their equipment. These supplies were delivered by ship, under supervision, and the quantity greatly surprised the veteran commanders, as they had never received any of this and had never seen such a bounty.

Kamchatka and Chukotka rolled into one. That's where all the supplies were delivered...

It must also be said that the boat commanders had no idea what the regulations were, how to keep records, how to write them off, or how to order all this goodness for the boats' lives. Not because they were illiterate, but because they hadn't received any real training, despite regularly traveling to the division for training. But their special status—a group of boats within the divisional defense organization—wasn't taken into account by the training specialists of the DIPSKR, and the district's rear was in no hurry to contribute to this matter to the required extent. So the boats stewed in their own juices. So what if midshipman so-and-so asks for something to go to Chukotka? It's not like they're a cruiser...

However, by that time, let me remind you—1990–1992–1993—the supply chain had completely collapsed. It reached the point of outrageousness—sailors began arriving partially unequipped, or, to put it simply, half-naked... It was simply unbelievable: when asked who hadn't received warm sailor shirts at the training center in Anapa (and the sailors were sent to serve in Chukotka, not Balaklava), almost every new arrival raised their hand. This isn't an exaggeration or an attempt by sailors to pull the wool over the divisional command's eyes. This entire atrocity was confirmed by the supply certificate that arrived along with other reinforcement documents. The divisional command simply couldn't believe their eyes and the paperwork—it seemed so outlandish. But later, towards the middle of 1992, it had already become the norm...

Let's take a more serious look at this: they were willing and able to conscript an 18-year-old boy into service, but they either couldn't clothe, shoe, or feed him, or everything had fallen into disrepair to such an extent... Basically, it's impossible to say anything concrete about this. And when, a little later, I saw flocks of mismatched soldiers and sailors in large cities like Petropavlovsk or Vladivostok (and I even saw some horribly dressed officers), I really wanted to hold some of the high-ranking and poorly placed officers responsible for this...

We, this will be remembered forever, were taught both in school and in service:

You are the commander. You have been given both the authority and the right to send men to their deaths. Remember this: a soldier must be well-fed, clothed, and shod. Don't have enough? Take it off, give it your all, but a soldier must never go hungry or be naked or barefoot! Then a soldier understands that the Motherland needs him, his commander values ​​him, and he will go into battle with you calmly. And he will win. If something isn't right, fight with the command, with the rear, don't be afraid to ruin the relationship, because behind you are people who have been made completely dependent on you by the country, and no one will care for them or protect them if the commander cares only for himself. In war, and in military affairs, a soldier is the most valuable asset. Care for him and cherish him. And then you will have the moral right to demand from him everything that is written in the regulations. Otherwise, you will lose!

These seemingly simple rules, for all their primitiveness, were a real challenge for many. It was common to hear from some high and low commanding officers: "He (the soldier) is obliged; it's stipulated by the oath, regulations, and so on."

Here's a sentry. In Chukotka. He's obliged. And he served.

That's right, it's supposed to be, it's my duty. But have you done your part? Are you the boss? Excellent! Do you know your statutory duties regarding the soldier's needs? Have you fulfilled them? Is the soldier well-fed? Feeded on time? Dressed and shod? Weapon Are you well-off? Do you need nothing? Then ask for the full measure. Ah! The sailor doesn't have a vest... Instead of meat, he eats beans to meet his protein requirement? And what do you eat? You yourself may go hungry, but a soldier-sailor must be well-fed and clothed. And that's all there is to it.

He's getting all worked up here... But you (the government) are pulling people out of civilian life to avoid begging on the streets for food? And this happened, no matter how much they turned their backs on it, in the 90s it was far from isolated. And at the same time, army reserves were being plundered and sold off, and the number of millionaires, and not just in rubles, as you understand, was growing by leaps and bounds. Who was responsible for this?

And if there's no accountability for those sins, then what can we expect from today's embezzlers and crooks? Or are cases of soldiers becoming impoverished simply not happening today? That's the point...

Official documents from those years (we're talking about a division, a microscopic group, but it reflected our entire country) state that the personnel drafted in 1990-1992 did not even receive uniforms as required, starting from the training center in Anapa, where conscripts were trained to become specialists for the ships and boats of the naval units of the Pentagon.

Let me quote from the document:

"Analysis of the division's combat performance for the first half of 1992"

III. Logistics
Sailors drafted in autumn 1990 did not receive their uniforms:
Sailor Podgornov, Mrs. Akimov, Mrs. Gonchar, Mrs. Stovpets, Mrs. Makarov, Mrs. Kulmakov, Mrs. Rodionov (7 people in total) - all of the above were not issued uniforms in 1991 and 1992.
10 people from the autumn 1991 conscription (from military unit 2333, the training center of the Ministry of Emergency Situations in Anapa) did not receive warm vests in Anapa.
Warrant officers and officers received their uniforms in June 1991. Petty Officer 2nd Class Starostin (commander of the barge in Anadyr), who was called up in June 1992, was not fully equipped.
Provision for SHTO (skipper-technical support), SMV (low-value items) - 10-5% of the norm according to the order.
There are no tailoring shops in Provideniya and Anadyr.

The remark about the tailoring studio isn't included in the document without a reason. It means that officers and warrant officers didn't even have the opportunity to have their own uniforms made at the time. They had to travel (? Why?) to their district or division for a couple of weeks to order and have their uniforms made in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. Simply put, you'd either be a ragamuffin in six months, or head to Moscow, to the Kremlin, for underwear and trousers... How did these men feel when they were denied even clothing? And not in the notorious "before 1913," but in 1992, for example? And they were serving in the field, not feeding chickens on a collective farm...

The division being created, as an organizational unit, was supposed to break this corrupting tradition, create a proper military unit on its basis, and transform the anarchist mob in military uniform into border guards... No easy task, it must be said. And this was happening against the backdrop of the rapid decay and destruction of military service as such.

Replenishment. Boats and… people

Gradually, the survivability of all the damaged boats was restored. This incident itself forced the detachment's command, albeit reluctantly and with great reluctance, to accept the proposal to change the division's base to the opposite side of Komsomolskaya Bay, relying on shared basing with the vessels of the MMF hydrographic base.

The division's base was in the port of Provideniya, at the docking station of the Hydrographic Enterprise. This is how the division began its new home.

The following year, 1991, two boats were scheduled to arrive from the industry (a shipyard in Sovetskaya Gavan), and another was expected. We were vigilant, trying to plan patrol duties for the boats in the areas closest to Komsomolskaya Bay, and putting the base and facilities in order. The border detachment allocated an entire building for classrooms, a supply depot, and other divisional needs. We practiced interaction with neighboring units, explored options for organizing service in the port and Komsomolskaya Bay, and made deployments to Tkachen Bay. Gradually, the division began to acquire a more military appearance, but higher headquarters never clarified its mission. "For all that is good against all that is bad"—we knew and understood that ourselves, but it wasn't enough. Apparently, the district itself didn't quite understand what could be entrusted to this structure and what could be demanded of it. Moreover, the elements of degradation, destruction, and annihilation of the service itself were already beginning to manifest themselves in all their terrible force...

But the division's service required many things. A proper base was needed—with a pier or dock, utilities for the naval boats, shore power, living quarters, and adequate wintering areas—that's a whole other topic, not even a topic, but a fundamental issue for Chukotka. The only issue that had been resolved was housing, and even then, not for everyone—some warrant officers and long-term enlisted personnel didn't receive it, even though it was promised upon their decision to serve in Chukotka. So the housing issue was a real drag on the Chukotka residents, too.

Just think about it—the boat's commander has nowhere to live and nowhere to house his family. This isn't in Moscow, Balaklava, or Vladivostok—it's in Chukotka, where the very fact of being alive is considered a heroic achievement... So, in 1991, "humanity" no longer fit into our coordinate system, didn't fit...

To be fair, it must be said that in the late 1990s, conditions were even worse in some border guard units (PZ-7 110 POGO and premises 7 UAE, for example) in Chukotka. There was no heat in the barracks, or rather, in the small space where the windows were boarded up with pieces of plywood and other junk. Soldiers covered themselves and wrapped themselves practically in rags, using a few mattresses for cover. It was difficult (physically), but at least they were warm... At night, everything froze to the point of complete stupefaction. Meals were, to put it mildly, irregular, and I'm afraid to reveal their composition here... So, in 90-1992, things were still relatively decent; inertia at least ensured a minimum level of provision that wouldn't lead to immediate death.

Even serving in such conditions, now, after many years, people remember not the bad, but the good of that time. And rightly so. The soldiers were 19-20 years old, the sailors up to 21, the officers 24-40. Everyone was young, dashing, and easy-going. Difficulties didn't break them or frighten them; there was even something playful about it—that's what we are like, you can't take us for twenty rubles! And rightly so; commanders and superiors should think about all of this, if they have a sense of duty and conscience.

A few words about tactics

And yet, it's necessary to say something about what border security in Chukotka actually entailed and what main areas the border troops covered. Otherwise, it's—"something is needed, something is needed, somewhere..." It's unclear, basically.

Let's use what we were once taught: assessing the situation, strength and resources, and the enemy. This is just a rough outline. Well, he's not an infantryman, after all, so let's keep it brief.

The assessment of the situation includes: an assessment of the enemy, one’s own forces and resources, neighbors, the combat area, weather, and other factors.

This is a local-scale theater of operations. This is where the division was supposed to serve. And it began to develop this area.

So, the main thing is the enemy. I'll go into more detail about the enemy next time, but for now, I'll just give a brief outline. With these guys in Chukotka, it's simple—our sworn friends, the Americans and Canadians. In rare cases, they might be operatives from other intelligence agencies. The goal is to penetrate Soviet territory via relatively simple routes, then reach the mainland and practice assigned tasks in the hinterland, taking into account that there's natural access and contact with the areas where our SSBNs are located. missile divisions, as well as other places of interest, primarily military, and secondly economic.

Next, the infiltration routes. The distance between the US and the USSR is 49 km. Total. In Chukotka, all routes, unlike in other parts of the country, such as the western ones, necessarily go through airports and seaports. There's no escape here: for thousands of kilometers, there's nowhere you can walk by land without dying for the glory of your American values. Entering the USSR itself is a piece of cake, but then you have to somehow sneak to the airport and fly deep into the country or to the Far East. And here, everything is built on these simple schemes.

The main source of problems was St. Lawrence Island (USA), directly opposite Cape Chaplin, very close to the USSR. A stream of both our local residents and American Chukchi swarmed back and forth. In winter, across the ice, in summer, by motorboat. It was impossible to stop this flow; it was encouraged by the country's top leadership. Could agents land anywhere, especially under the guise of a "border exchange"? They could. But how could they get from the landing site to the village without dying? No way. A stranger is immediately visible, the head of the border guard service has already been notified, and then, hello—flippers up. So they use the cover of cheerful and clueless naturalists, ethnographers, and other such nonsense, and continue working under that guise. Until 1986, all of this was very difficult to implement, but the “new thinking” turned everything upside down, and any fool who declared himself an ethnographer-ecologist-biologist suddenly became a figure protected not even by the American Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but by ours, with all the ensuing consequences...

The way the detachment commanders and district headquarters staff, the border troops' intelligence and counterintelligence officers spat—they couldn't find the right words, but it's pointless, as you understand, to irrigate the vast expanses against the wind—you'll end up up to your ears in it all... The entire tactical deployment of border forces, which had been built on a realistic assessment of preventing border breaches and spy infiltration, was crumbling.

Why are you laughing like a horse when I say the word "spy"? What do you mean, you've read too many books and watched too many movies? Nothing of the sort! In the next chapter about the enemy, I'll tell you what this fruit really is.

Of course, I'm no Dzhulbars, and Karatsupa never made it to our backwaters, but there were spies in droves. And it wasn't fools who created the border security system. Fools who destroyed it. Or traitors, depending on how you look at it...

Enemy. And even though these are just "voices," to me they're all right, they look similar...

In short, it was necessary to cover the main likely routes of agent penetration. On land, this was done by the Pogo through their Pogz and PCs with PTN, while the sailors covered the coast, and not all at once, as one might think. Exactly—no need! Cover the most likely landing sites and don't let the spy land on the shortest routes. Instead, force him to trek long distances through the tundra, mountain passes, and other popular spy tourism spots, so that he reaches the airport, ragged and exhausted, completely stupefied, wanting to sing "The Internationale" for a piece of bread and a warm blanket, and dreaming of surrendering while he's still alive!

Fri on Istihed

In Chukotka, this meant blocking potential exits to the airport via the coast, where it's impossible to set up a technical observation post (TOP), leaving the area without technical or personnel control. This is precisely why the main landing and infiltration routes into the village of Provideniya, its airfield, and port were closed: a TOP was set up at the Ureliki airfield near Lake Istikhed, using the old buildings of the 14th Airborne Army; a similar one was also set up on Mount Kivach. But once the TOP was set up, how were replacements to be transported there? Only tracked vehicles made it by road, and even then, with difficulty due to the steep terrain. The only options were aircraft (remember the harsh weather conditions) and the PSKA from the sea. At this location, a boat repeatedly ran aground, once quite hard, and was only able to be pulled free with the help of the PSKR on duty at the Provideniya site. Consequently, shift changes at the TOP were often delayed, sometimes for long periods. The problems associated with this, for general understanding, need to be multiplied by at least 10 – this is Chukotka... And in general, the border guards of the 110th POGO and the Special Arctic Border Detachment (OAPO) should have had their service length calculated not as 1:2, but as in the BD 1:3... I'm not kidding...

Map of the service of boats and POGZ 110 PGO in the Providensky direction and Tkachen Bay

So, we need to close off several sections of the coast at the entrance to Providence Bay, the exits to Novo-Chaplino, Tkachen and Lorino Bays, and beyond that, Ratmanov Island. If all these wonderful places are periodically patrolled by helicopters, planes, boats, and SAR+PTN, then the enemy can only nervously twitch their legs and try to escape under a legal cover. Well, and then you understand who will be responsible for the "autopsy" of these merry fellows. Well, not a real autopsy; after all, these are people, good guys, working for their government and understanding everything just as well as we do.

In theory, the division should have been tasked with this localized task—covering certain sections of the border and access to Provideniya Airport and Seaport from the sea. And the decision to deploy the division was correct. It was wrong—the timing was wrong, but who chose it? It was given to us objectively, through experience, and nothing in it depends on us. The forces were a division of ships, with one, and sometimes two, ships assigned to the Chukotka sector during navigation, aviation, patrol boats, and boats. Essentially, we were on a trial deployment; like mice in a lab, we were required to practice operational techniques (a boat isn't a ship, after all), command and control, interaction with other forces and assets, tactical maneuvers, communications, the number of forces and assets required, and the organization of basing and supply.

The main, perhaps even the most fundamental, mistake was leaving the division under the control of the border detachment, which put an end to everything written above. Not because "the boot is always taller than the shoe," although that's true. It's simply because the border detachment was up to its neck in its own tasks, and then an essentially alien organizational entity appeared. This wasn't just about supporting the border detachment's operations and survival; it was about naval unit tactics, organizational specifics, and other specifics. The border detachment simply couldn't handle this, and it wasn't a matter of arguing over who was in charge, but of maintenance. Infantry doesn't learn to serve overnight, either. And slapping on functions it wasn't meant to perform was a big mistake. But what happened...

It was on this joyful note that we encountered an existential conflict between the division and its "father," the Border Guards. "Brothers, they're robbing us!" the border guards shouted when they realized the boats were gradually abandoning the "stand here, come here" and sea taxi regime. But the division had its own truth: a boat isn't the personal taxi of the Chief of Staff or the Head of the Border Guards. There are service tasks, regulations, repairs, ship organization, and simply the Ship's Charter—and it suddenly appeared on the horizon, and the ground command refused to tolerate such insolence.

"How can you even raise the flag at 9 a.m.? And what kind of 'flag raising' is this anyway? What kind of ship schedules? What chain of command? Go to hell—this never happened before, and it won't happen after you," the ground troops cried. But the division command stood firm in its defense of naval organization and the requirements of the Naval Charter, and the boat commanders supported it—the daily flag raising boosted the crews' morale, elevated their status, and from simple, paramilitary cabbies, they began to feel like full-fledged sailors of the naval units of the border troops, not transport workers...

And so it began. After several months, various tense conversations and debriefings, the division began to reclaim its rightful place in the unit's structure and service. The process was very difficult, tense, and nerve-wracking, but credit must be given to the unit's command—they apparently had a deep-seated understanding that reforming the life and service of the boats was an objective matter, and that the sailors would not give up what was theirs. After some time, relations began to improve, discipline in the division improved, and after the dismissal of the "dashing old Cossacks," things really took off.

In general, all the positives began to appear, and it was quite tempting to blame the divisional command that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere!

But all of this was happening in direct opposition to the collapse of not only border security but also the country itself. The efforts and objectives simply didn't align with the purpose for which it was all created. The division was formed with the last remnants and resources, and then the process of disintegration and collapse began. I can't say anything about that; I left my beloved warm climes in 93, and I can't describe what happened next. I only hope we got our steam locomotive going, and its momentum lasted for a while...

In 1992, immediately after the collapse of the country, there was a drain of personnel into the national "armed forces", including the border troops.

The deputy commander for political affairs, Vasily Lopulyak, left the division for Ukraine and then waved goodbye to the Chief of Staff. NEMS Vorotyntsev and F-4R Sergei Belykh remained, and he had to take over the division when the commander was dismissed.

It was a sad sight for all of us back then, looking back now. Armenians, Georgians, Ukrainians, Belarusians, Kazakhs, and Azerbaijanis, not to mention the Balts, all ran off to join their "armies." You often heard things like, "I must now serve my republic, and yours won't tell me what to do."

The command of the Pogo, and indeed all other units, was not to be envied at the time—any unit could disintegrate and cease to exist in just a few days. Combat effectiveness and readiness were lost with such monstrous speed that it was sometimes terrifying—if something happened, and the enemy got a taste of our guts, who and what would we use to fight back? Sure, we could charge headlong into the attack—that was something we could do, even in the face of the destruction of our units and subunits, and many of those leaving wouldn't have abandoned their old friends and former comrades in the lurch, but...

Never before had we experienced anything like this—neither the army nor the troops... It was hard, disgusting, and brutal, and it's a miracle the enemy didn't dare stretch out his hand... Did they really need it? I don't think so—they themselves were shocked that we were destroying ourselves with our own hands, destroying what had been built and wrought at the cost of incredible effort by several generations of our people. And we fell into their sweaty hands, helpless and naked, rudderless, without a fight or money to fight for—we did it all ourselves. So there's no forgiveness for the politicians and leaders who did this to the country. Especially since it all happened according to the classic formula: revolutions are made by romantics, and its results are exploited by scoundrels. That's exactly how it happened.

Base station in Providence

In the winter of 1990–1991, we conducted a reconnaissance mission and identified the most advantageous and only possible safe base location—on the other side of Komsomolskaya Bay, on the hydrographic base pier, next to the Provideniya port ship repair shops. There was power capacity, embankments for berthing, and a safe anchorage during prevailing winds, which could reach a staggering 30 meters or more. We even had sheet pile reserves for pier construction. We were also a valuable asset to the hydrographic base—they had someone to share the costs of berth construction, sheet piling, excavation work, and other similar needs. And the head of the hydrographic base, as the enterprise was called, Vladimir Gromov, was generally pleased with our choice and was accommodating in all matters to retain such an important neighbor.

It was with great difficulty that we managed to agree on this base location, despite serious opposition from the detachment's command, for whom releasing the boats to the other side of the bay was a huge thorn... The taxis left - "Get them here, get them there"... The district headquarters supported our proposal and promised to allocate funds for the construction of a pier and modular houses to house the personnel and headquarters.

In short, the process was proceeding slowly, but no one understood it was heading nowhere. The staff training exercises and discussions of the division's missions hadn't clarified the situation; no one understood what it was or how it was supposed to work. Neither the boats, nor the theater of operations, nor the potential adversary and potential intruder were compatible, didn't mesh, and couldn't have been compatible, since they weren't even defined. Of course, the specific tasks were generally clear, but the overall picture wasn't coherent. The entire service of the border guard sailors was regulated by the TR PSKR/PSKA (Tactical Guide) and NS PSKA (Service Manual), which mentioned the border detachment only as an interacting structure. The service awaited other, more reasonable solutions, but no one could, or could no longer, make such proposals. The border detachment, even in theory, was incapable of being used for the intended purpose of the boat division or for maritime border service planning due to its lack of experience and specificity. The division didn't need it—why waste resources planning other units? The district didn't care (well, almost) anymore—the time for strengthening the border had passed, the era of "reforms," ​​cuts, liquidations, optimizations, and other...-izations had begun... Resources were insufficient, and prospects were dim.

The new location of the PSKA division, together with the hydrobase, in the village of Provideniya

Receiving boats

The year 1991 arrived, and everything was heading towards the outcome that had already been clearly outlined by the entire policy of the new authorities...
But all this was somewhere out there, in some unattainable Moscow... And here, in Chukotka, it was necessary to survive every day, serve, maintain readiness, educate subordinates, secure material resources to maintain combat readiness, and so on, and so forth, and so forth...

The day came in the spring of 1991 when a telegram arrived at headquarters: assemble a crew by such-and-such a date and report to the shipyard in Sovetskaya Gavan to accept a Project 1496 boat from the industry. It didn't take long; the crew and division headquarters officers set off for the shipyard. They accepted the boat, brought it up to readiness, underwent factory, mooring, and sea trials, loaded it with various equipment from the factory, loaded some onto the escort ship, and, at a rapid pace, completed the K-1 coursework task and plotted the route for the interbase passage. The boat received the tactical number PSKA-402, and its commander was Senior Warrant Officer Uskov. At the same time, the division received a similar boat, PSKA-403, from Khabarovsk, which was intended for the Chukotka Division.

And so, the newly built Project 1496 PSKA, with a displacement of a whopping 102 tons, set out from the shipyard's waters on a long voyage—from Sovetskaya Gavan to Komsomolskaya Bay, calling at Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky. It was, without exaggeration, a long and distant voyage, and the crew were rightfully awarded the "For Long-Distance Voyage" badges upon completion of the voyage. The boat proceeded under its own power, making a speed of 9 knots during the voyage, while the escort ship, Project 745P PSKA Sakhalin, followed at a distance for backup.

The first hours and days of the expedition, as always, were the most tense, until we had mastered the organization of communications, watchkeeping, control of the boat's position, the actions of the helmsmen and motormen, the commander's watch, the cook - in short, the entire boat organization in an unusual situation for a boat - a multi-day passage far from the shore, across the seas - the Sea of ​​Okhotsk, the Sakhalin Straits, the Second Kuril Strait, the eastern coast of Kamchatka, Avacha Bay, and further - Kronotsky Bay, Kamchatka Bay, Olyutorsky Bay, the Bering Sea, Anadyr Bay and, finally, Providence and Komsomolskaya Bays.

The boats are deployed to perform service tasks

Surprisingly, the crew quickly got used to the rocking, which was merciless, as they were sailing not in port waters, but in the open ocean... They passed the La Perouse Strait, the seas intensified, and the crew initially became depressed by the rocking, but pride won out, and after a while the cook began cooking something, and fewer and fewer crew members refused to eat.

The division commander was in charge of the passage to the division base. There were no particularly dramatic moments; gradually, all crew members reported to their shifts, and the measured pace of time took its toll. They stopped at the port of Korsakov for a day, refueled, and refueled, and even bought Sakhalin berries—"klopovnik"—in almost commercial quantities. This berry was delicious, large, and had a sweet-tart flavor. For us, unaccustomed to such a wealth of vitamins, this berry was a godsend.

During the voyage, the crew mastered all the equipment. They drifted several times for maintenance and repairs to the mechanisms, engine, and rudder, but everything was restored, and the voyage was trouble-free. The crew proudly returned to the division's base in Solenoe Ozero Bay, Kamchatka, and was clearly the envy of the crews of boats of the same design serving with the division.

Having completed the PPO and R (preventive inspection and repair), PSKA-402 and PSKA-403, accompanied by the division ship, the Project 97P PSKR Dunay, departed for their base in Komsomolskaya Bay.

The boats were awaited in Provideniya, the detachment orchestra played, and the division command and detachment headquarters representatives greeted them. The crew was given the day off, escorted in an orderly manner to the village of Provideniya, and taken to a bathhouse. They were ceremoniously presented with the "For Long Voyage" badges—a source of pride for any sailor. Everything was going well; the division was already stationed on the other side of Komsomolskaya Bay from the detachment, at a pier being built jointly by the hydroelectric base and the division. Three "old" boats were moored at the pier. The division command assembled the personnel and briefed them on the specifics of the service, the division's routine, and its organization. The commanders of the arriving boats reported on the condition of the equipment and the personnel situation; everything was within normal limits: "On PSKA-402, an oil line leaked, Sailor Tronin had a complaint; on PSKA-403, the oil pressure in the RRP was dropping, adjustments were required, no complaints regarding the personnel." By evening, the command departed, leaving behind the division's duty officer and the head of the division's EMS (electromechanical service), Captain 3rd Rank Vorotyntsev, as the command's support officer. Everything proceeded as usual...

Black day

July 24, 1991 arrived, the darkest day for everyone serving in the division at the time.

Several sailors, including Sailor B. from the PSKA-403 (I won't give his last name, as it's not worth raising an old wound in his parents' hearts), decided to celebrate their arrival at base by going AWOL and having a few drinks. Since all civilian ship crews had been warned not to try to provide our sailors with alcohol out of the goodness of their hearts, a small group of them, around midnight, infiltrated the ship repair shop boiler room, purchased some vodka, and then unexpectedly ran into a patrol and the shipyard/workshop duty officer and fled for the boats. Sailor B. jumped into the water to reach the boat by the shortest distance. His jump was noticed by the watch on the boats; they saw him take a few strokes and disappear underwater. Another theory is that the sailors from the arriving boat made their way to the city through the ship repair yard (SRM), but were immediately searched for. Fearing arrest, they ran to the boat along the shore of the small bay. B., however, decided to swim across the bay from the SRM to the boat and jumped off the embankment, intending to swim the 100-150 meters.

The alarm was raised quickly. All services were alerted, a report was sent up the line, and division command arrived. The division's NEMS and Warrant Officer Moruz, as the only ones with experience and certification for diving operations, made several dives in lightweight diving suits from the PSKR "Dunai" to the bottom of the cove between 4:30 and 6:45 a.m., searching for the drowned man until his air tanks were completely exhausted. Unfortunately, they were unable to find him immediately—the current had shifted his body 10-15 meters from the site of the drowning, and visibility at the bottom was poor. When port divers recovered his body five days later, it already showed signs of bites from fish, crabs, and shellfish, although the low water temperatures left him virtually undamaged.

The water temperature in Komsomolskaya Bay at the time was around 3-4 degrees Celsius. A person's lifespan at this temperature is approximately 10-15 minutes, after which cardiac arrest occurs. The primary cause of rapid death is precisely the sudden, abrupt change in temperature, which causes shock and forces sharp, uncontrollable inhalations that are virtually impossible to stop. So, a person in this state has a virtually 100% chance of drowning—a sudden, intense panic that doesn't coincide with conscious sensations, a few breaths with water entering the lungs—and that's it, death. A seabed search revealed that the sailor was found in a crouched position, lying face down, with clear evidence of hands scraping the sandy bottom. This suggests that after drowning, he tried to brace himself against the bottom, but was unable to rise, and died of both hypothermia and drowning. I feel sorry for the boy...

This emergency had a devastating effect on both the village and the boat crews. Some cursed the duty officers, others the command, some criticized the vendors who were selling vodka to anyone, and still others blamed the breakdown in discipline... Everyone was right; this emergency, of course, was a product of all of the above. And the sailor's personal carelessness was also the cause of his death. As fellow sailors later recounted, their comrade, who had been assigned to the crew from the division a month earlier, had been quite conscientious about systematically committing serious disciplinary violations and flaunting them. But nothing goes unnoticed...

Miraculously, the original document about this incident has survived. It's difficult to read even now—nothing foreshadowed such an outcome. The boat's crew was greeted warmly, enhanced security measures were in place, but what happened happened.

There was nothing to be done; they had to take the body to the mainland to be with his parents. It was a difficult story. The people who accompanied the body greeted those accompanying him aggressively, preparing to beat or kill the officer escorting him. They couldn't believe the boy had gotten drunk and drowned while drunk. Everyone was thinking about Polyakov's "100 Days Before the Order," published in 1987, and the howling rhetoric of hazing, even though it wasn't widespread among border guards. Adding to the tension was the POGO command's requirement that the funeral be held in a closed casket—smears from fish, mollusks, and crustaceans would hardly have calmed the parents. The military commissar openly warned them to pack up their fishing rods immediately, provided a car, and promised to give them at least a half-hour's head start. Everything worked out. The father of the deceased, after a harrowing conversation with our officer and sailors, believed the truth of what had happened and stood up for our guys. Only the deceased's father and brother listened to the whole story with bitterness; the mother refused, which is understandable. But she believed her husband, and her grief became even greater—losing a son not in battle, not while carrying out a combat mission, but from carelessness and dereliction of duty—that's something you can't heal.

Let me remind you, it was 1991, early August. What was happening in the country then, the state of the army, society, and the government—were already known minute by minute. A state of decay and decomposition had already permeated all structures, and the army was no exception, although the border troops, as those directly engaged in combat, still had at least some semblance of a presence, but…

And again, this isn't Moscow, Vladivostok, or even Murmansk. This is Chukotka. Here, everything you don't notice "on the mainland" becomes significant; the scale of problems suddenly changes; the value of a nail or an airplane can be comparable, without any "first-second-third approximation."

Border service, an unusual service. Radiation

Nevertheless, by mid-1991, the division began to take shape as a military unit and began mastering its primary function—border patrol training. With the arrival of new boats, they began conducting control missions, mastering cover areas, and practicing combat service organization.

One of the key moments was the organization of the service in Tkachen Bay, just around the corner from Provideniya Bay. Boats occasionally sailed there before the division, but the boat commanders lacked a clear understanding of the service and did what they could. The division tried to transform this into what is known as "border patrol by a border boat in the border zone." They made several trips to the area, practicing communications with the border patrol and border patrol, maintaining surveillance and patrol watches, and providing radar coverage for the shadow sectors of the border patrol and border patrol.

And since the new boats arrived from the factory in standard condition, they began the standard operation of the installed surveillance and reconnaissance equipment in full compliance with tactical documents.

The first use of radiation reconnaissance instruments, for example, yielded an unexpected result. While maneuvering in Tkachen Bay, the KDU-6B device suddenly began emitting alarms in certain areas. Imagine the division command's astonishment when radiation levels, according to the instrument, exceeded 1 roentgen per hour... At first, they didn't believe it—no one had ever noted anything like this in this area before. They calibrated the instrument (even though it had been calibrated in a lab after leaving the factory), checked the sensors—yes, radiation in some areas was rampant... They conducted a preliminary radiation survey of the waters and ruled out any possible scenarios that could affect the instruments.

Summary: in some areas of the bay, radiation levels were downright dangerous. The faces of our boat commanders, who had been there before that day, looked absolutely shocked... They reported the situation as ordered, but were told to go to hell. We agreed with the unit's chemist to conduct a radiation survey of the area from the bay's shoreline, at our own risk. We grabbed the equipment, loaded it into a UAZ, and drove from the Pogo to Tkachen Bay. Everything was quiet along the way until we reached the trench dug into the hill that forms this road. There, the equipment first started beeping, then howling like crazy. The 1 radionuclide/hour level was breached in seconds. The driver and the vehicle commander (I can't remember who the unit officer was, I think he was a chemist) didn't want to take any chances, like any normal person would have after Chernobyl, and slammed on the gas. We passed the high-level zone and made it to the coast. We drove around all the places where the boats operate nearby and discovered a grim picture: there were many high-radiation zones throughout the bay, and the PTN itself was exposed to radiation.

The result: we conducted a preliminary radiation survey, drew up a map, and reported it to the detachment commander. We notified the 7th UAE, and reported verbally to the district. We requested a full-scale radiation survey by the district's chemical service.

Well, the result was unexpected.

The division commander was sent on a hilarious journey with his maps, surveys, and levels. And he was urged to shut up. But the guy wasn't one to be cowardly. He forbade his boats from operating more than 20 cable lengths from high-radiation zones, and submitted written reports to the detachment commander and the district. Where were they advised to shove these wonderful papers? That's right, there. And the detachment's records department, on orders from their superiors, even refused to register the division commander's report, which completely astonished the naval officers... Doesn't it all look so good? Probably... And sending people to get a dose—isn't that a good idea? The motive was simple: panic would break out, and the PTN had recently been deployed, positions were established, where was all this going? And you're lying—prove it? And the chemist who went with you is doubly stupid for falling for it, and his instruments might be lying, and who are you anyway...

I hope that story saved at least someone—after all, people started to be wary of dangerous places, they secretly conducted radiation surveys, and the information was confirmed. And what added to the spice of the moment was that, as it turned out, almost everyone knew about the elevated background radiation of the hill through which the road ran, but since they were driving at full throttle there, it seemed like nothing... That's how it is.

There were no recorded cases of radiation sickness, but no one tested for this diagnosis either... What nonsense... Everyone was afraid of something, some for their position, some for their rank, some for what... I don't know how things were there in the following years.

Well, by the end of 1991, the division had already become something of a force. In 1992, having survived the collapse of the country and lost some of its command staff and crews, the division had nevertheless begun to establish itself, and this was reflected in the reporting documents of that period.

Results of the service and combat activities and military disciplines of the PSKA division for 1991

In 1991, the division's naval complement continued to be replenished. In March, one Project 1496 PSKA was accepted from the state industry, and in July, one Project T-4M PSKA. Between June and July, PSKA-403 transited from Sovetskaya Gavan to Provideniya, and between July, August, and September, a Project T-4M PSKA arrived at its permanent base. The division's complement remains short of one Project 1496.

[i]The formation of the administration was completed in May of this year, and its staffing level is 100%.

According to district orders, the PSKA Project 1496 boats, which arrived after two weeks of training, were prepared for duty in the area and served with the company from August 10 to November 20. During their 100 days in service, PSKA-402 and PSKA-403 boats were deployed for 14 days of border protection duty (Kn 402 = 0,14, Kn 403 = 0,15). The boats' duty schedule was not met due to the detachment command's constant postponements of their deployments.

The division's final demise was just around the corner, but the first shot had already been fired... A few years later, the boats from Chukotka were reassigned to the division and assigned to commandant's offices, and that was the end of the Chukotka Fleet. It's a shame; the idea itself was sound, even timely, but history took a different path, one only it could know... Will it be resurrected?

But the fact that this division existed at all, and even tried with all its might to fulfill its mission of guarding, protecting, and defending the state border in this hole in the back of the country's body, evokes genuine respect for the people who, by fate's will, found themselves in this place at that time. And respect for the humble workers of the sea—the boats.

It was a different story. A different division. A different time. And it wasn't just the service's name changing, first to the Federal Counterintelligence Service, then more and more and more... Practically everything changed—the service's ethos, its philosophy, its horizons, its role in defending the country, a new generation of personnel. Already in 1992, people were leaving the service en masse, not for any mercenary reasons—it was a matter of rapidly downsizing the Border Service itself, using both force and economic means; people were simply being purged en masse from units and formations. Officers were transferred to the reserves, off the payroll, and kept there, sometimes for years.

Well, how did some bosses treat their employees, including those being fired... There was this simple story, which I witnessed myself:

Captain S., of such-and-such rank, is discharged due to illness from the central (district) subordination at the end of 1992. He arrives at the district headquarters, asks to be sent to his chosen place of residence and given the documents to be put on the waiting list for an apartment; all the required lengths of service and other requirements are present. The personnel officers send him to the chief of logistics, Colonel Manturov. A short, thin colonel. Dialogue: "What did you want?" "To be put on the waiting list for an apartment at the chosen place of residence after discharge." "Where?" "In Leningrad." "Are you discharged already?" "Yes, the order came, from the district personnel department, but you haven't been removed from the unit's list yet." "Get lost." "Don't understand?" "Get lost." Now replace all the normal words with obscene language, and you get a real dialogue between a real officer and a real chief of logistics of the SVPO at the end of 1992. No, this is not an exaggeration or a fabrication. Verbatim. Exactly. So, to say that the service continued as before, just under a different cap badge, is not true. What followed was a different country, a different history, a different service, a different people. A different and different one.

And Chukotka... What about Chukotka? Five years later, there was almost nothing there. And another 10 years later, not even the remains of buildings remained—everything had been destroyed and bulldozed... Today, satellite images show no hint that there was any life there at all 25-30 years ago... That bright spot of irregular configuration with a solitary four-story building is the former territory of the 110th Königsberg Order of the Red Banner Border Detachment. No trace of human presence... That's the bottom line. Although the fact that the detachment's territory was cleared of rubble and cleaned up is certainly a good thing; you have to clean up after yourself. And they erected a memorial there—the 110th Border Detachment served here. Thank you for remembering...

This bright spot in the photo is what remains of the 110th PGO, and of the 7th UAE, and of the division as well...

Here I came across a poem about Ureliki and Chukotka... feel it:

“There is no point in beating yourself up in hysterics.
And thanks to capricious Fate:
I am closer to Urelik than to Zhmerynka,
And in Urelik it’s closer to you.
Oh, I want an engagement ring!
I have spread the suit on you.
Only the cards don't predict very well -
So, happiness will have to be stolen.
Here again the weather is not suitable for flying,
Once again a blizzard is frolicking in the tundra,
But isn't life too carefree?
A single man for everyone?
I don't need a groom from America,
Free-thinking Russian princess,
I'll run after you to Ureliki,
Not a mistress, but a faithful wife.
Obeying the consequences of marriage,
A dirty sleeping bag will replace a bed,
There, you see, the second coming,
I'll teach you to close the toilet!
I feel like I'm married to Patience
- I never reproach you for a trifle!
I am a cultured, weak woman...
"Oh my God, you heartless fool! ..."

Zosia Stakhovskaya

Comments

[3x3zsave]

And, lo and behold, they finally found this magical substance called “liquid glass”!
Bravo! Simply, bravo!!!
Nowadays, few people even know what "liquid glass" is. Even fewer even know that it's office glue. The water-repellent properties of cement-sand mixture and office glue have been forgotten.
Thank you, Vasily! It was interesting.

[Chifka]

Everyone has already forgotten about the water-repellent properties of cement-sand mixture and office glue.

Why did you forget? It's a very common construction product, available in all hardware stores. Just like PVA glue, which is specially made for cement-sand mortar, for plasticizing and adhesion. I used it yesterday. And the articles are really interesting

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Chifka

And the articles are really interesting

Thank you!
The term exists, but its connection with office glue is often lost.
I would have had a canister like this 35 years ago, and not just one...

[Chifka]

35, I wish I had them now! My dad painted the garage doors with Soviet tank paint, got it from somewhere, but now it's faded. And the utility trailer is a ship's gray, brought from Murmansk. We haven't repainted it yet, there's no need, although it's faded too. There's rust on one side because we painted it in the rain and were late for the bus. And I don't think it's even worth mentioning the Soviet Kuzbass varnish. My dad has been gone for 32 years.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Chifka

What 35, I wish I had them now! My dad painted the garage doors with Soviet tank paint, got it from somewhere, but now it's faded. And the utility trailer is a ship's gray, brought from Murmansk. We haven't repainted it yet, there's no need, although it's also faded... And I don't think it's even worth mentioning the Soviet Kuzbass varnish.

There is such a thing, I confirm...
Ship paint was called "ball paint," and if the primer was applied correctly underneath, it would last for 40-60 years, practically impenetrable...
And the Kuzbass varnish was a real death knell, nothing could remove it...

[Chifka]

The ball joint, for sure, was left in a 5-liter jar for about 10 years, then unfortunately, it was broken by accident. The fence, bench posts, and table at the cemetery were painted with blacksmith paint; they stood for about 15 years without rust. Then they faded, turned gray. I foolishly bought a bottle of modern paint (at that time, a bottle like silver paint), painted it, and the rain washed it away within a season. It's not fake; by the way, almost all of it washed away, and we went back to the original faded blacksmith paint. It lasted another three years, then everything was replaced.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

You're telling the truth... I don't want to praise everything Soviet simply because it was Soviet, but much was done for the cause, and not to promote nonsense to the naive consumer...
Kuzbass varnish was used on ships to paint anchors and anchor chains, hawse pipes, towing gear, capstans—in other words, everything that operates under the harshest conditions of stress, corrosion, and friction. It held up perfectly. I don't know what they use now; I'm a long way from that.

[Olgovich]

Quote: Vasily_Ostrovsky

it held on tightly, couldn't be torn off

The green paint for the carriages hasn't faded yet, the hacksaw blades are so expensive these days, they're from the MPS warehouses.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Olgovich

The green paint for the carriages hasn't faded yet, the hacksaw blades are so expensive these days, they're from the MPS warehouses.

Hacksaw blades are a thing of the USSR... these days they don't last more than a day's work, I've broken so many... I take the old Soviet ones - they cut, no problem... I take care of them )))

[Olgovich]

Quote: Vasily_Ostrovsky

I take the old Soviet one - it saws, no worries... I take care of it

During the Soviet era, there were emergency reserves in the warehouses of the Ministry of Railways in case of war - there was metal, fine wood, tools, etc.

Whoever managed to maintain control over them became rich.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Olgovich

Whoever managed to maintain control over them became rich.

No, I don’t agree with this interpretation... it’s not who saved it, but who captured it!
I hope there is no need to mention names...

[Olgovich]

Quote: Vasily_Ostrovsky

No, I don’t agree with this interpretation... it’s not who saved it, but who captured it!

Of course so

[Waterways 672]

I had to clean a ship's hull in the dock. There was practically no rust under several layers of primer; the paint was very high quality.
Regarding the hurricane winds and cracks in the ship's hull, we had something similar at the Liepaja base. In December 79, our destroyer was slammed stern-first into the quay wall. We were moored on the mooring lines as usual, but it was the first time something like this had happened – a hurricane wind, the mooring lines tightened, and the stern slammed into the wall. Attempts to salvage the damage were unsuccessful, and the fenders were useless. The senior boatswain, standing on the wall, jammed emergency spacers between the stern and the wall. There was a loud cracking sound, and splinters were flying. One spacer was "eaten," another was jammed in. The storm subsided, and the ship's welder welded the stern back together.
Thanks for the interesting article.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Waterways 672

I had to clean a ship's hull in the dock. There was practically no rust under several layers of primer; the paint was very high quality.

You had a good first mate and boatswain! Their care and the crew's hard work kept the ships going...

Large ships - they are tossed about heavily, with feeling, with sense, with arrangement... I had to experience this.
And the small boat gets hit harder, more sensitively...

[Waterways 672]

In Liepaja, small boats were moored in the Winter Harbor, a sort of harbor within a harbor, more sheltered from the open sea. The OVR ships were stationed there.

[Tests]

Vasily Ostrovsky, sir, the Project 1496 boats built in the mid-80s are still registered in Arkhangelsk. Vessels built at the Azov Shipyard are hard at work, both in Arkhangelsk and on the Ob, helping gas workers develop Sabetta and Utrenneye.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Tests

And the Project 1496 boats built in the mid-80s are still registered in Arkhangelsk. Vessels built at the Azov Shipyard in Arkhangelsk and on the Ob are hard at work helping gas workers develop Sabetta and Utrenneye.

Well, these guys are tough, designed and built to last! No "optimizations" or other -ations...

[bk0010]

Quote: Vasily_Ostrovsky

And the small boat gets hit harder, more sensitively...

I always thought that small vessels like that (100 tons) were hauled ashore for the winter to prevent them from being crushed by the ice. Or did you even go to sea in the winter?

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

If there had been something to pull it out with and somewhere to go, it would have been more useful... But it was what it was...
The ice was squeezed out - after all, the hull contours are egg-shaped...

Of course, no one went to sea in winter (I'm talking about boats)

[Alex013]

"The ice was squeezed out - after all, the hull lines were egg-shaped..." - the Pomor ships (kochi) had similar hull lines.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

This is how nature has always told people everything, but only those who wanted to understand nature understood...

[Tests]

Vasily_Ostrovsky, dear sir, let me clarify that the primer should be lead red lead, iron red lead is completely different.
In the late 50s, Kuzbass varnish was used to paint over the name of V.M. Molotov, the author of a quote visible from afar in huge white letters on the red brick exterior wall of SEVMASH's Workshop No. 50, which overlooks the filling pool. It reads, "We need a strong Red Army and we need a strong Navy." It seems like those who denounced the anti-Party group of Malenkov, Kaganovich, Molotov, and their ally Shepilov in Pravda are long gone from power. But periodically, Kuzbass varnish is used to paint over Molotov's name with another coat... Decommunization, SEVMASH style...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Tests

Vasily_Ostrovsky, dear sir, let me clarify that the primer should be lead red lead, iron red lead is completely different.

Hello, Eugene!
I don't think I mentioned red lead in the text, but essentially, lead is the best, that's true. But priming with it is a real challenge... You need to prepare the surface very well, degrease it, or better yet, twice, apply two coats with drying in between, and only then paint—at least two coats, preferably three. Then it all lasts for years, that's a fact.

The story of SEVMASH is interesting and took place in other parts of the world; who wasn't painted over at that time... and today there are still fans)

[Chifka]

My father coated the underbody of our GAZ-24 Volga with red lead (the orange kind)—a thorough job, two coats, back in the '80s. About 15 years later, he gave it a thorough overhaul, cleaned up the underbody, and while there was some rot around the sills, I couldn't physically remove most of the red lead, even though I used a grinder and a wire brush. He was incredibly thorough, but eventually gave up and painted over the top.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Chifka

My father coated the underbody of our GAZ-24 Volga with red lead (the orange kind)—a thorough job, two coats, back in the '80s. About 15 years later, he gave it a major overhaul and cleaned up the underbody. Sure, there was some rot around the sills, but I couldn't physically scrape off most of the red lead.

The special thing about red lead is that it doesn't just form a protective film, but creates a galvanic coating, or something similar. Chemists can explain this better. Red lead bonds very strongly with metal (steel) when properly prepared, becoming an extension of the steel. I'm explaining this clumsily, of course, but that's about it, unless you look in reference books or other literature.
Your father prepared and primed the bottom well, but in the sill area he probably rushed a bit, and the red lead lay on top of something in between, and it didn't hold there as well, and the abrasive effect on sills is always greater...

[BAI]

The ship paint was called "ball paint"

Garage doors are painted with it. Specifically, gray. They've been standing for 30 years. And they're still standing.

[cpls22]

Quote: Chifka

A very common construction product, available in all building materials stores.

I recently learned that when mixed with ethyl alcohol, you can get a silicone mass.

[your vsr 66-67]

The Chukotka Fleet: The Anatomy of a Murder

Good afternoon, Vasily!

[your vsr 66-67]

It was on this pioneer enthusiasm that all life in the north was based.

The North, Chukotka – they’re dragging on…

I agree! And not only agree, I've experienced life in the north firsthand!
Went for 3 years, lived for 22...

[your vsr 66-67]

What hasn't been delivered to Chukotka by air...

During my service, I flew several times with our crew to Magadan and Anadyr. We actually transported tractors, eggs, and vodka. In winter, that's all we could do! We also transported demobilized soldiers from Chukotka to Khabarovsk.
It was a long time ago, in 1968-69.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: your vsr 66-67

It was a long time ago, in 1968-69.

With your permission, I'll publish a story about those times in a little while... even about earlier ones - I finally transcribed a recording of a conversation with one veteran, all the way back to '39 and onwards, all the way to the '60s...
And not just any veteran—a pilot! So I hope I'll delight the aviation public...
I'll get approval on a number of issues from the current guys, and I'll put it up for publication.

[your vsr 66-67]

Quote: Vasily_Ostrovsky

not just a veteran - a pilot!

I was fortunate to serve with aviation officers who had fought in WWII. Yeah... They were officers from the "How the Steel Was Tempered" series!
In fact, I can't recall a single officer, either in training or in the regiment, about whom I could speak negatively. And although many, many years have passed since then, I remember them only with kind words!
What's more, I remember so many of them by rank and last name! And in the regiment, there were several times more officers than us soldiers.
Still, times have changed a lot, and unfortunately, not for the better...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Nikolai, I understand you, even though I'm considerably younger... The veteran's recollections, which I'm brazenly announcing here, baffled me in many ways... I realized he was telling me maybe 1-2% of the truth... Sometimes I don't even know how to express it on paper... They were simply men of steel, their motto was "forward." They had no reverse gear...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: your vsr 66-67

Went for 3 years, lived for 22...

Taking off my hat...
A friend of mine had more service in the north than I did - almost 50 years... yeah right...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: your vsr 66-67

Good afternoon, Vasily!

Good afternoon, Nikolai!
As promised, a long story for the long weekend...

[Kote Pan Kokhanka]

Hello Anton, how are you?
Regarding liquid glass, I used it to treat wood and the ties around the chimney of the fireplace.
This year I plan to climb 10 meters high again to coat the base of the roof plaque.

[3x3zsave]

Hello, Vlad!
How are you?
I seem to be slowly coming to my senses.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Bravo! Simply, bravo!!!
Nowadays, few people even know what "liquid glass" is.

Quote: 3x3zsave

Everyone has already forgotten about the water-repellent properties of cement-sand mixture and office glue.
Thank you, Vasily! It was interesting.

Thank you, Anton, for your kind words!
Well, now this term is thrown around easily, but when you ask - what does it mean? - there is silence...

[3x3zsave]

My father showed me this when I was a kid. The cast-iron waste pipe under our bathtub was leaking. My father made a bandage out of bandages and a mixture of office glue and cement. He worked, and I shone a flashlight. We lived with that pipe for another five years.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

My father made a bandage out of a mixture of office glue and cement... And so we lived with this pipe for another five years.

That's what I'm talking about - we were using a jackhammer to cut through the concrete in the dock where we patched up the hole, but it just wouldn't cut...

[Richard]

An interesting, honest, but very difficult article. I don't even want to comment.
I have great respect for the author - not everyone would dare to write something like this.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Richard

An interesting, honest, but very difficult article. I don't even want to comment.

I warned you - it's a tough story... It's still a bit combed over, so you don't feel like you're about to get drunk right away...

Quote: Richard

I have great respect for the author - not everyone would dare to write something like this.

It's all fair and square... pink ponies are for granddaughters, they deserve the best and from the heart. And a normal adult man shouldn't faint at the sight of them, if he's a man and not a creature with primary sexual characteristics...
I'm working with material from the late 30s-50s - that's where the Men were... we were already weaker...

[Richard]

So many years have passed, and my heart still aches, remembering what was happening to the military right before my eyes, under the guise of an endless series of "improvements, healthy cost-effectiveness, and optimization." The cutting of materiel, technical bases, and equipment. An endless succession of successive metropolitan outsiders—leaders with deep connections at the top, but little understanding of the needs and specifics of local conditions. A series of endless renamings - just keep changing the chevrons - (from the PV KGB of the USSR - until 1992, to the PS FSB RF - a year later, then to the Coast Guard PS FSB RF, a year later to the Coast Guard Department PS FSB. As a result - In 2005, in accordance with the Federal Law of March 7, 2005, No. 15-FZ, the PV was abolished in the Russian Federation and the previous native chevrons had to be replaced with the diamonds of the FPS. During that period, thanks to the PTN specialists, even a sad "linguoanalogy" was circulating throughout all the POGO and PZ: they deciphered the abbreviation FPS as - FPS (from the English. Frames Per Second) - frame rate - the number of frames that change on the screen in one second.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Richard

So many years have passed, but my heart still aches when I remember what was happening to the PV before my eyes under the guise of an endless series of "healthy economy and optimization."

This wasn't just a renaming; the main thing was the destruction of the structure, personnel, weapons and logistics, resources, bases and deployment points...

What's especially galling is that no one has been held accountable for this whole circus and chaos... And it wasn't just Gorbachev's men who were at work here, but also Yeltsin's men, and their followers and successors...

They will be damned, every single one of them; history will never forgive any of them for their cowardice and spinal flexibility...

The result is visible today, for those who didn't want to see anything...

Regarding FPS - that's exactly it... You brought this thing up at the right time...

[Luminman]

Quote: Richard

Just make sure you change your chevrons

Did they keep the green-topped caps, like they had in Soviet PV? Personally, I've always liked the black, blue, green, and red bands and buttonholes on uniforms...

[Richard]

Good afternoon, Nikolai!
Border guards have managed to retain the traditional light green cap with a dark blue band. For a time, it was complemented by a traditional ushanka hat and a side cap with a light green piping for officers and warrant officers. The "shurupka" cap, also known as the "screw cap," was strongly rejected by border guards, as it was not traditionally worn by border guards from the 30s to the 80s. As a result, side caps were issued only to female border control personnel. The traditional border cap itself underwent significant changes—its band is now jet-black, and the red piping has been replaced with blue. Current border heralds have removed the army cockade and the double-headed eagle, which was once featured on the crown, from the green cap. In their place, an orange-and-black oval cockade was introduced, bearing an eagle with outstretched wings—the same as the one worn on the shakos of soldiers of the Tsarist Separate Border Guard Corps (OKPS). This cockade became a khaki on the field caps and berets of the border special forces (SBO, MMG, and DShMG). Thank God, the green vest was not encroached upon.

[Richard]

Among the notable innovations in the Far North border uniform is the introduction of two special border uniforms—one polar and one arctic. In terms of their performance, ergonomics, and sensory characteristics, the two suits are virtually identical, differing only in appearance. The polar uniform features the traditional light-gray pixel camouflage pattern typical of border uniforms. For the Arctic version, a unique pixel camouflage pattern in white, gray, and blue tones was developed, unavailable in any other Russian uniform! It was created to match the primary colors of the snow cover found in the Franz Josef Land region. It was there, at Russia's northernmost border outpost, Nagurskaya, that the new uniform was tested. Essentially, the Arctic border uniform resembles an astronaut's spacesuit more than the familiar army "loose suit." It consists of numerous elements, each of which acts as another thermal barrier between the human body and the Arctic cold. The set includes a wool-blend sweater, insulated mittens with microfleece inner gloves, bib overalls with a reinforced heat-saving lining, an insulated vest, and a hat with earflaps and a thermal mask. Of particular interest is the thermal underwear, made of double-sided siliconized knit fabric, which absorbs and wicks away moisture, then dries quickly, preventing hypothermia.

[3x3zsave]

In general, the most important thing when using Arctic camouflage is to cover your nose when hunting seals!
Hi Dima!

[Richard]

Hello, sick person!!
Finally, I can congratulate you personally on the New Year, and not through Kolya Mikhailov.
And covering your nose in those places is far from the least important thing to do.
The sailors of the OBRPKS (separate brigade of border ships) of the OAPO had wonderful leather sheepskin coats, the "elephant" ones, to the envy of us landlubbers. When unbuttoned, the huge fur collar hangs down the back; when buttoned, it forms a fur trunk around the hat on the wearer's head. A truly luxurious item for those parts!

[3x3zsave]

And covering your nose in those places is far from the least important thing to do.
Actually, I'm talking about polar bears.
Happy New Year, Dima!

[Richard]

Happy New Year, Anton!
Glad you've recovered.

[3x3zsave]

Thank you!
It all worked out so stupidly. It was the first New Year in three years that wasn't a rush, and with the long holidays, there were tons of plans, and we were all set!
31 I wake up with a fever...
On the first, my nephew calls: well, why are you coming? I say: how can I, a bacillus carrier, be with your children?

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

"Canadian"...?
This excellent leather jacket with magnificent fur was simply called "raglan" - it was the dream of everyone for thousands of kilometers!
It hangs at home, I wipe the dust off it sometimes
Sorry, I intruded on the conversation...

[Richard]

Just "raglan"

Thanks for the amendment.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Richard

Thanks for the amendment.

Cool jacket, you're right!
And they were valued, and they were bought and resold with great success...

[Richard]

We weren't entitled to such things. They were silently envious.
By the way, what is its shelf life according to supply standards?

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Richard

By the way, what is its shelf life according to supply standards?

The standard quantity is 1 fur leather jacket, wear period is 3 years.
According to the rules, it had to be returned when receiving a new one. But there were variations... especially after 1986...

[3x3zsave]

Sorry, I intruded on the conversation...
Everything is fine, Vasily, join the company of veterans of the "History" section!

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Everything is fine, Vasily, join the company of veterans of the "History" section!

I'm preparing the entrance fee... If they don't throw slippers at me, maybe it will be worthwhile...

[3x3zsave]

if they don't throw slippers at you
Well, you haven't thrown it in yet! You're joining in normally!

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Accepted...
I will ))) definitely...

[Tests]

Vasily Ostrovsky, sir, I categorically disagree with you! A "Canadian" is a regular jacket; the shoulder seam of the sleeve is clearly visible in the photo. With a raglan coat, whether it's a cloak, jacket, or overcoat, the sleeve and shoulder are one piece. Legend has it that Lord Raglan lost his arm at Waterloo and invented this coat cut... In the 30s, the Red Army Air Force wore black leather raglan coats with a fur lining, a collar, and a belt with a metal buckle. The coat tails could be wrapped around the legs to allow pilots to fly in mukluks (high fur boots) and stay warm. My grandfather either bought or traded a raglan coat like this from military pilots. After recovering from his injury, he captained a wooden boat belonging to a collective farm and sailed the White Sea after the war. And when he died, he left this coat in his will to one of my father's younger brothers. At that time, my father served in the navy "with everything ready": he provided for Novaya Zemlya and the testing of the "Lenin Komsomol".

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Evgeny, light it up, bring light to the masses! I'll just shake your hand!
But the jacket, as in the photograph you provided, was called exactly that - "raglan".
When I was young, my wife, for example, used to tell me that you were so illiterate, and that the raglan sleeves weren't set in... well, you described all of that in your post )))
And they called it that... illiterate and incorrect... They called alcohol "an awl"... is it (the alcohol) to blame? And stolen alcohol - "SHKV", "stolen ship's awl"... well, where does that connect to the norms of word formation? And no matter, we somehow lived with these "incorrections"... what can you do...

[Tests]

I believe it! Slang is always slang. They called an awl "shilon liqueur" in Severodvinsk. Only Severodvinsk residents immediately understood that "shilon liqueur" and "Prosyankin on the hunt" meant "whatever and what not." Among consumer goods, SEVMASH also made stainless steel flasks. The smaller one, 0,45 liters, fit perfectly in an inside pocket. Before 1990, say "Prosyankin on the hunt" in Arkhangelsk or Novodvinsk and they wouldn't understand... In Arkhangelsk, say "SMP." Everyone will point to the high-rise building on Trade Union Square, which houses the Northern Shipping Company. Say "SMP" in Severodvinsk. Everyone immediately understands - the Northern Machine-Building Enterprise. The cities are only 35 km apart by highway.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Tests

I believe you! Slang is always slang. In Severodvinsk, they called "shilo" and "shilen liqueur."

Here I am about the same thing!
As they say, there are different "dialecticalisms"... and by them you can immediately identify the speaker - where from, when, and so on )))

[Tests]

Vasily_Ostrovsky, sir, where and who called the Project 941 submarines "crocodiles" and "hippos"? With the "conning tower" almost at the stern, it doesn't look like a crocodile at all...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Tests

Where and who called the Project 941 submarines "crocodiles" and "hippos"?

Evgeny, this nickname was often heard in Vladivostok, which had nothing to do with these boats )))
They used to say the same thing in Leningrad, and even old acquaintances who served on this project sometimes called their boat the same way...
I'm not an expert on slang, especially boat slang, but I write it the way I hear it... I don't know what name they've adopted in their community, I'm not a submariner...

[Richard]

In Dudinka, the "Sharks" of the 18th submarine were nicknamed "water carriers" due to the incredible amount of ballast water they carried, which made up almost half of their underwater displacement.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Well, it fits perfectly!
And also - "barn"... but that's already too familiar ))

[3x3zsave]

You're already by the leg, experts! What's wrong with the "Shark"? It seemed like a pretty good boat, wasn't it?
Explain your humor to an amateur?

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Anton, this is already naval chatter, just let us have a good laugh!...
The boat is cool, but... what about talking?... tomorrow )))

[Richard]

I don't know what they were called in Severodvinsk, but here I'll go to Evgeny

[3x3zsave]

Kolya Mikhailov
Lekha (khohol) also noted his congratulations with you.

[Richard]

Thanks to Alexey for congratulating the guys on my behalf, I myself am not a member of "Violet".

[3x3zsave]

I myself am not a member of "Violet".
It's your decision alone.

[Richard]

You know perfectly well why I made this decision. Why stir up old stories?

[3x3zsave]

I know perfectly well, but you are mistaken.
Well, no, then no.
You might be thinking I'm protecting Misha? Believe me, he's the last person I need to protect. In the virtual world, we're eternal antagonists.

[Richard]

I have no complaints about Misha; we still communicate normally via email. He's offered to get back together several times. The last time was just before New Year's.

[3x3zsave]

Then figure it out for yourself. I'd rather go to the Vatican basements. It'll be easier there...

[Richard]

Then figure it out yourself.

He made his own decision and left on his own. What's there to figure out?

[3x3zsave]

As I said from the start: it's your decision. What's written there on our Fialka? "Come in, don't be afraid - leave, don't cry"? (It's criminal jargon, of course, but let's forgive Misha for his professional distortion.) Well, it's your decision, and I can't help but respect your choice.
Stop talk about this.

[Luminman]

Quote: Richard

Border guards managed to retain the traditional light green cap with a dark blue band.

In Soviet times, border guards had a black band and a green crown, I think! Am I right?

[Richard]

I'm not wrong?

no.
a photo Caps of the PV KGB of the USSR
1 - privates and sergeants, 2 - officers.
I had the chance to wear both models. The photos aren't mine, of course—they're from the internet. Unfortunately, I don't have one myself anymore. All I have left as a souvenir of my service is the green beret of the DShMGi MMG PV. I started my service in SAPO wearing them in January 81. Then, the Union, the Voroshilov Higher Military Command School, and spent time hanging around outposts and the Pogo... But it turned out that the circle was complete. I ended my service in OAPO wearing one.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Taking off my hat...
Short comment, yes...

[Richard]

Vasily, you beat me to it. I was about to address something similar to you, but in different words - I don’t like pathos.
By the way, if you don't mind, I suggest we switch to informal communication.
with respect
Dmitriy

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Dmitry, thank you for your trust.
It's probably too late for me to adopt the American informal style... I still use the old-fashioned formal style of "you"... it shows respect for the person I'm talking to, and helps me apply the brakes in time.
It's all puns and puns today... yeah, sir...

[3x3zsave]

Wait, Vasily, you'll get used to it and start calling me Tokha!
Although, for some reason, other comrades are still shy (afraid, probably)...
I feel sad and offended...

[Richard]

Remind me why we all communicate as Sasha, Misha, Kostya, Vlada, Lesha, Seryozha, Zhenya and Dima, and you are Anton?
Let me give you an idea - five years ago, when Kostya called you Antosha, you said that you organically did not accept such a diminutive from your name.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Wait, Vasily, you'll get used to it and start calling me Tokha!

It's unlikely, I'm afraid I won't live to see it... when you're almost seventy, it's too late to change something established... and is it even necessary?
For respectful communication, any form is good, as long as it maintains this respect )))

[3x3zsave]

Okay, let's leave everything as is.

[Olgovich]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Everyone has already forgotten about the water-repellent properties of cement-sand mixture and office glue.

Don't forget - in Soviet times this was used to the fullest.

You are the commander. You have been given both the power and the right to send people to their deaths. Get this into your head:

Our commander of the UNRM, very stern and demanding of the soldiers, told us, the officers:

"Soldiers are our CHILDREN!

Radiation

During Chernobyl, they sent us a wave of DBP slabs from Ukraine, in the UPR (there was a dosimeter there), they whispered that they were practically glowing. It's okay, they laid the roads...

I admire the courage and resourcefulness of the officers and sailors, border guards, and pilots.

Only a very rich country can afford to have and maintain a fleet that remains frozen in ice for 8 months.

Thanks to the author

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Olgovich

Our commander of the UNRM, very stern and demanding of the soldiers, told us, the officers:
"Soldiers are our CHILDREN!

That's the whole point: being demanding is not a lack or (God forbid) a denial of concern for the soldier.
As a child, I was amazed: why do officers scold soldiers like crazy at the firing range, but in the mess hall, they chase away the lazy ones for underweight portions, or even worse, for stringy meat... and feed them practically with a spoon, and always shake uniforms off the rear-line soldiers... Then I realized - they lived by Suvorov: The soldier is the chief general...

[Olgovich]

Quote: Vasily_Ostrovsky

They lived according to Suvorov

Unfortunately, not all officers were like that - there was also assault, impossible tasks with punishments for it, etc.

A lot depended on the commander...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Olgovich

Unfortunately, not all officers were like that - there was also assault, impossible tasks with punishments for it, etc.

What's so surprising?

God has not abolished human nature... There will always be two scoundrels for every hero...
Here we should remember Dostoevsky:
"A people should be judged not by the depths to which it has sunk, but by the heights to which it has reached."

[Olgovich]

Quote: Vasily_Ostrovsky

There will always be two villains for every hero...

There were scoundrels among the soldiers too, and what kind of scoundrels they were...

A late truck with reinforced concrete arrived at the US in the forest (no one was waiting anymore, no one was there). A soldier is on the crane, I'm slinging and unloading. And then he lowers the slab, not with the load, as I ordered, but with the boom, and pushes me against the column. Where did I get the strength, I break free, tear myself to pieces, run to the crane, rip the door open, and... a dead drunk body tumbles out...
No, I didn't hit...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Olgovich

No, I didn't hit...

I believe... I just kicked the beast...

I had a case - I was giving a soldier a grenade during training, I saw that he was nervous... I told him - give it to me... he gave me the grenade, and he was holding a ring in his hand, a good man...
He didn't scold me or hit me either... I guess...
He's certainly not a scoundrel, but let the doctors define him... they already have...
there would be a widow and orphans

[seamen2]

*Everyone has already forgotten about the water-repellent properties of cement-sand mixture and office glue*
Those who haven't been there will be there, those who have been there won't forget (c)
In May 1998, I had to find out when the boatswain and I were installing a cement box on the Volgoneft-256.
the abode of my youth..

[Nikname2025]

Nowadays, few people even know what "liquid glass" is. Even fewer even know that it's office glue. The water-repellent properties of cement-sand mixture and office glue have been forgotten.

Has chemistry really been removed from the school curriculum? And from the soil stabilization course on PGS?

[3x3zsave]

Good evening! I was expecting you to ask a similar question!
It’s not about theoretical knowledge, but about its practical application.

[Nikname2025]

In my understanding, theoretical knowledge is acquired in order to be “practically applied.”

[3x3zsave]

Okay, I'll explain it in simple terms.
All nurses are trained to deliver babies. Theoretically. But not every nurse is prepared to deliver babies in practice.

[Nikname2025]

Such examples can be found in every field of human activity. But since humanity, albeit creakingly, somehow manages to survive, the percentage of nurses capable of delivering babies is still quite high.

[3x3zsave]

About one in five women are familiar enough with female physiology to know their water is breaking. And it's not just a low tide.

[Nikname2025]

I can neither confirm nor deny your statistics. I can deliver babies, too. When I had a friend in medical school, I would sometimes sneak into various practical classes with him. Including childbirth. But that's if the process goes without complications. And that's far from always the case.

[Amateur]

Reading things like this brings tears to your eyes. After all, it wasn't American generals and admirals who broke the army and navy, but our own, "flesh and blood" and party membership.
Many thanks to the author!

[Kote Pan Kokhanka]

I join in the kind words about Vasily's work. It truly is heartbreaking.
At school, the history teacher refused to teach lessons about the events of 91 and 93, saying, “You are eyewitnesses yourselves; time will put everything in its place.”

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Kote pane Kohanka

I join in the kind words about Vasily's work. It truly is heartbreaking.

Thank you for your positive feedback on my exercises...

Sometimes it seems that time doesn’t put things in order, we are trying to forget all the nightmares... otherwise the question arises in the air: who is responsible for this?

[Tests]

Vasily_Ostrovsky, sir, the answer is well-known – no one! And I can't forget it at all, my daughters remember the joys of the 90s and 2000s... A classmate of mine served in Izmail after Dzerzhinka, and after the Black Sea Fleet began to be divided and sworn in to Ukraine, he returned to his native Severodvinsk and served as a sobering-up station duty officer until he reached the minimum pension. Several anti-aircraft gunners came to work at the Severodvinsk Department of Internal Affairs, fortunately, a law school had opened in Arkhangelsk at the Pedagogical Institute, and they had to complete three years of correspondence courses at the university... Regarding the uniform. It was different everywhere. At the Nyonoksa training ground, senior officers from the reserve reserves were buying up ZILs and GAZ-66s with trailers. Junior officers wore white army sheepskin coats and submariner's "Canadian" jackets, some branded halfway down the back with a five-pointed star and the letters "MO USSR." The white paint washed off the "Canadian" coats easily, but the black paint was completely indelible on the sheepskin coats. Rations and compensation for them also varied for everyone. In February 1996, I received compensation for 11 months of rations; it's best not to mention the inflation of 1995-96. I received my October 1995 salary as a gift precisely on Soviet Militia Day, November 10. On December 30, 1995, I received 300,000 rubles for November 1995. Before March 8, 1996, I received the remainder of my November salary and the entire December 1995 salary. It was a real celebration. On December 31, 1995, after 10 p.m., my wife received her September-December 1995 salary at school. At the end of February, she received a gift for March 8th – her January 1996 salary... We smile as we recall the cold water temperature in the radiators and the rolling blackouts of the 1990s and early 2000s... Civilians don't even know about the "northerners" who fought off all the "security" agencies in the Arkhangelsk region in the early 2000s through the courts... Meanwhile, a "vacation" in the Caucasus is your military (service) duty... Not all judges, thanks to exorbitant salaries and lifetime allowances, have risen to the level of deputy god for legal matters, and over a cup of tea, they recounted the orders that had arrived from Moscow. So, the guys from the Arkhangelsk region's Organized Crime Control Department didn't receive their lengthy service benefits. In neighboring Vologda Oblast, one year of service in the Organized Crime Control Department was counted as one year and three months of preferential service, according to a Russian Ministry of Internal Affairs order. And in the Arkhangelsk Oblast, one year of service is already counted as one year and six months of preferential northern service. What other benefit could the court have awarded you? You'll be living too well. The tax police are even more interesting. There were court decisions to pay northern benefits, but the police were disbanded, all property was transferred to the Drug Enforcement Agency, and there's no legal successor. Where are the bailiffs supposed to go and enforce the court decisions? There's nowhere... Regarding housing provision in all the "law enforcement" agencies of the Russian Federation, only a mighty Russian curse... And a special thank you to our Duma members for their hard work. This year, if I live long enough, I'll receive another pension from the Social Fund. The notification credited me with 21 years and 11 months of northern civilian labor. I love the Beatles: https://yandex.ru/video/preview/1615959663855902469

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Tests

And a special thank you to our Duma members for their hard work. This year, if I live long enough, I'll get another pension from the Social Fund.

Evgeny, this cry from the heart... or rather, a cry that has already died down... I don't even know what the editor and moderators will allow to be printed...
I didn't want to cry - that's not our thing, but to cry - I wanted to ask my superiors and subordinates...
And even now the questions haven't settled... everyone will still be called to account, sooner or later...

[your vsr 66-67]

Thank you Vasily!
It came to mind... It reminded me... And yet, life is beautiful, no matter how you look at it...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Thank you, Nikolai, for the past and the present)
Life is beautiful, both from the outside and from the inside, that's its charm.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Amateur

Many thanks to the author!

Thank you, kind words warm my heart )))

Quote: Amateur

Reading things like this brings tears to your eyes. After all, it wasn't American generals and admirals who broke the army and navy, but our own, "flesh and blood" and party membership.

Yeah, it's been almost 40 years (starting with Gorbachev's time), but nothing censored comes to mind right away... So if you replace all the adjectives and verbs in the story with their Russian equivalents, it will be easier to read...

[old_pferd]

Quick-setting concrete of at least grade 500, approximately 20-30 cm thick. So what? That's exactly what theory says. Reality, of course, resists this with all its might. No one in the vast expanses of Chukotka had such concrete, no matter the cost or its equivalent...

Well, let's say, not in Chukotka, but in the Providensky District. In the neighboring Iultinsky District, there was a mine in Iultin and a geological exploration expedition in Egvekinot. And the drillers there had packages of BSS—a quick-setting mixture for well plugging.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: old_pferd

Well, let's say, not in Chukotka, but in the Providensky district, in the neighboring Iultinsky district there was a mine in Iultin and a geological exploration expedition in Egvekinot.

Hmm... this is Chukotka... Chukotka included several districts, and Providensky is only one of them... But this is already a different civilization, and then, as today, there was no communication between them except radio, even if they knew about the presence of cement and other life-affirming things there, then delivering it to Ureliki would be simply impossible, like flying to the Moon

[old_pferd]

Well, it's not like going to the moon. A helicopter ride to Egvekinot is an hour and a half, maybe two hours at most. I've seen stranger flights in Chukotka. The commanders' attitude toward the ships is another matter entirely; it's well documented, and no one has bothered.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

I don't really support these theses... when a blizzard is sweeping, cyclone after cyclone follows, chasing aircraft is not just problematic - it's criminal... Well, flying for vodka - such things happened, but that was the characteristic of civil aviation based at the local airfield, and even then - they didn't try to abuse it...

I probably failed to convey the "time continuum" - everything that happened after the hurricane took less than a day, the problem needed to be solved not in a week, a month, or whatever, it needed to be done now, immediately, otherwise the boat would take on water - and here we go...

[old_pferd]

That's right, there was no sense of urgency, and the explanation about the awl was blurred.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Well, let's continue to polish our literary language; not all is lost, there's still time.

[Boris Borisovich Skrynnik]

I can provide a document, well, a document—a 15-year-old kid's attempt to keep a diary. It's scribbled down about my flight from Magadan to Providukha, and it says we were stuck in Anadyrka for about a week because Providukha wasn't accepting flights due to weather. Don't make fun of me if you're not in the know. And this is 1984. Sorry for the slang.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Boris Borisovich Skrynnik

Don't make a fool of yourself if you're not in the know. And this is 1984. Sorry for the slang.

It's not very clear who or what is "off topic"...
If the weather has closed the airport for weeks and sometimes up to a month, then this is mentioned both in the article and in the comments, and especially by northerners...
Providence/Komsomolskaya Bays were very capricious due to fogs that often covered them not completely, but in a classic way – the fog seemed to cling to the mountains and hold on "for dear life"...

[dmi.pris1]

Well, thank you to the author. This is our story, whatever it may be. And bad things should not happen again.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote from: dmi.pris1

Thanks to the author. This is our story, whatever it may be. And bad things should not happen again.

That's right, I can sign up for every word...
If we don’t tell the past, then what will the present be based on?

[bubalik]

A few years later, the boats from Chukotka were removed to the division and commandant's offices, and this marked the end of the Chukotka fleet.

Good afternoon!
The author's essay is written not with ink, but with pain itself—it's lived, suffered, and passed through the heart down to the last letter. Such lines leave no one indifferent: they burn, make one pause, and remember their own.

If possible, could you tell me how the author's fate turned out?

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: bubalik

The author's essay is written not with ink, but with pain itself - it is lived, suffered, passed through the heart to the last letter.

Thank you, I am very touched...

Quote: bubalik

Such lines do not leave you indifferent: they burn, make you freeze, remember your own.

This is the highest praise for the author, thank you!

Quote: bubalik

If possible, tell me how the author's fate turned out?

The author is alive, and in some places healthy, and wishes the same for everyone!
The author doesn't complain about fate, but it's not about him! His characters are what matter. Fate brought the author together with a variety of interesting people, from stokers and janitors to academics, cultural and scientific figures, from privates to generals (though it didn't work out with the marshals; it wasn't meant to be, then!).

[Korsar4]

Thank you very much, Vasily!

A hurricane painting in the spirit of Jack London, only with northern twists.

And the picture is from the 90s. Whatever industry you take, it's all madness. With its own peculiarities. Whether it's people's stories or numbers. And behind the numbers are people's lives.

And a considerable amount of time has passed, but the chronicle of what happened has not yet been written.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote from Korsar4

Thank you very much, Vasily!

A hurricane painting in the spirit of Jack London, only with northern twists.

Thank you for such a positive review, it's very flattering... it's easy to get arrogant like that :)

Quote from Korsar4

And the picture is from the 90s. Whatever industry you take, it's all madness. With its own peculiarities. Whether it's people's stories or numbers. And behind the numbers are people's lives.

Damn them, these "architects of perestroika" and their successors... If only they thought about the country - but no, only about personal power and being patted on the shoulder and invited to the table...

[Korsar4]

Beautiful language. And when an event is processed, it's like this.

One can only guess what the Far East winter is like. From my experience, I've only been to Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk. But it was quite comfortable there, even in winter.

About the 90s. A significant part of the country literally survived by gathering mushrooms and berries.
Some things could be sold on long-distance trains. Barter.

And it wasn't easy at all for the heads of many companies.

Terrible chaos. A lot is being abandoned. And values ​​are being re-evaluated. And behind the decline in production is not just a dot on a graph, but the lives of people left without work and wages.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote from Korsar4

Beautiful language. And when an event is processed, it's like this.

Thank you, it warms me up...

If you don't let it pass through yourself, you won't survive morally... Your description of the 90s is short, but very accurate... For some reason, writing about this has become "out of fashion"... someone is very concerned that everything is forgotten and society remains in a state of joyful idiocy... to a large extent, this is happening...

[Korsar4]

And against this backdrop, there's a rejection of everything that's been developed through the media. "Who needs mathematics?"

In 1995, on the 50th anniversary of the Victory, we remembered that we were the winners.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote from Korsar4

On the 50th anniversary of the Victory, we remembered that we are the winners.

That's right.... everyone who could took part...

[3x3zsave]

Things were much more interesting in 92. When two American frigates arrived in Severomorsk, a closed city just a year before. Also for an anniversary...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

You just got me hooked with these sad memories...
In those days, we not only undressed, but also allowed ourselves to be raped in a perverted form, and all this under the slogans of the near-political, either underdeveloped, or unfinished, or pathetic...
And again, no one even asked the people for forgiveness for this, and yet they are defending them...

[3x3zsave]

Vasily, I'm not exactly a big fan of the late USSR, but to so spectacularly destroy everything that took decades to build in just a few years—that takes a lot of effort. You see, I left one world for the army and returned to a completely different one. It was truly a culture shock.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

You see, I left one world for the army and returned to a completely different one. It was truly a culture shock.

You are not alone in this...
From these closed garrisons, both adults and children ended up in the mid-90s just like chickens in a plucking...

[Korsar4]

Every corner of the country has its own memories.

Was it really true that your stable life mainly occurred during your school years?

However, periodically positive periods did last quite a while.

[3x3zsave]

Was it really true that your stable life mainly occurred during your school years?
No, there was no stability during my school years. But family tragedies were to blame.

[Korsar4]

There are quite a few criteria for a "time of change." A whole ensemble of factors.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote from Korsar4

Every corner of the country has its own memories.

They really are their own in every corner of the country... these corners developed in different conditions, their own societies had already formed there, but here everyone is lumped together...
And the good is remembered better when you protect yourself - otherwise you'll go crazy...

[Korsar4]

Yes. The habit of smiling and maintaining good posture is very helpful. It's a real point of support.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

To this day, soldiers are recognized by their bearing...
I am also unmistakably "identified"... yes, sir...

[3x3zsave]

maintain good posture
Wearing chainmail greatly contributes to this. From personal experience.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Wearing chainmail greatly contributes to this.

My legs will give way with such a harness )))

[3x3zsave]

No, it's fine if you maintain good posture. The weight of the chainmail is distributed evenly across the body, especially if the belt is tied correctly. You practically don't feel it.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

You don't feel the armor for a couple of hours, then it's hard and you want to take it off...
How many people have paid for this desire to throw off this burden...

[3x3zsave]

Body armor comes in different varieties. Moreover, it typically has problems with thermal conductivity, which chainmail does not.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Thank you, I felt it firsthand...

[Korsar4]

And also carrying loads on the head. Actually, that's from Veresaev's "Isanka."

[3x3zsave]

And also carrying loads on the head
"Siege" cappelina, early 17th century, weight 11,5 kg (from memory)

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

"You guys are fucking amazing."... (C)
Save and preserve... how they had to endure all this is hard to imagine now, you can't envy the reenactors)

[3x3zsave]

This is the helmet of a sapper of the army of Eugene of Savoy, the best commander of his time, during the siege of Geneva.
By the way, Evgeny took Geneva.

[Korsar4]

Are you sure you took it? What year?

In Geneva, the Feast of the Escalade is still celebrated, when in December 1602 Charles Emmanuel of Savoy failed to take the fortress by storm.

According to legend, vegetable soup was poured over the heads of the besiegers.

[3x3zsave]

Hmmm, did you catch me? Are we really talking about the same "Geneva"? There are countless towns bearing Eve's name! Which one did Prince Eugene take?

[Korsar4]

Then, of course.

"You never know Pedro in Brazil" (c).

Didn't catch me. Just got curious.

[Tests]

3x3zsave (Anton), respected sir, Halliburton-SEVMASH was a joint venture in Severodvinsk in the 90s. Our sworn friends, under the leadership of either ecologist or ethnographer Dick Cheney, scrambled to certify SEVMASH's slipway assembly shop #50, used to build the Prirazlomnaya platform's foundation, and the nearby tailings pond, to ISO 9001 standards. And just look at how everyone dug up the Yuzhnye Yagry plant at Zvezdochka, inspecting the spent nuclear fuel and radioactive material storage facilities. And who didn't finance the dismantling of our nuclear submarines?

[3x3zsave]

My respects, Evgeny!
So why don't I know!? So why didn't they tell me?! I just don't want to talk about something I wasn't a witness to.

[Tests]

3x3zsave (Anton), dear sir, I bow to you and wish you all the best and the best in the coming year!
Unfortunately, I witnessed it... In the late 90s and early 00s, I had to take major star inspectors on a tour of the SEVMASH museum (ship models are always just that—models). Then there was something exclusive—a tour of the Admiral Nakhimov. Nearby was the Akula, on the Yagrs at the Zvezdochka, the Admiral Ushakov at the pier, ships all over the White Sea Naval Base, SEVMASH's hull workshops—not photos or models in a museum, but right there.

[3x3zsave]

Unfortunately, I witnessed...
Well, I witnessed how the country’s air defense was destroyed.

[Tests]

3x3zsave (Anton), sir, I remember that. Oh, I witnessed that too. The Yaroslavets air defense system stopped stationing at the Yagrinsky Bridge in Severodvinsk between May and November, as it was used to run to Kumbysh Island. Advertisements for used window frames, doors, white bricks, boilers, radiators, pipes, and various other items appeared in many gardening associations in the region. MiG-31s ​​disappeared at the Arkhangelsk airport, but the 10th Air Defense Army building was still guarded...

[bober1982]

The author recounted that escorting the bodies of the deceased to their parents was both a terrifying experience and typical of those times. I never had to participate, but I heard plenty of stories. Relatives were very hostile; if the coffin was closed, they would resort to axes or even beat them to death.
This is the kind of perestroika literature that emerges, the scribblers are also the "engineers" of human souls.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Delivering a soldier's body to his parents is a difficult task, one I wouldn't wish on anyone... But that, too, is life - both then and today...

[Sergey2376]

Thanks to the author for a true story! We eagerly await the sequel about the enemy!

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Sergey2376

Thanks to the author for the true story!

Thank you for your kind words, but it's a sad story...

Quote: Sergey2376

We are eagerly awaiting the continuation of the story about the enemy!

It's been there for a long time, I'll put it up in a few days if nothing else comes up...

[Sergey2376]

This is taking a long time to be moderated!
I follow your publications; a new article appears on your site only a week later!

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

But I have nothing to do with this... the editors know best when to post an article, we are little people, we write it and then sit and wait...
Here's an example of unfortunate publication timing: the previous article didn't get the views it did in a week, which today's publication yielded in just a little over a day... that's the nature of online journalism, so to speak.

[Sergey2376]

Maybe this article was simply shared more than others, which is why it got more views! I personally shared it on Odnoklassniki, our "1KDiSKR Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky" group, and on VK, and from there it spread!

[Simple]

One could often hear things like: “Now I must serve my republic, and yours does not dictate to me”...

In our unit, the "runners" who were caught were put in the kich.
They allocated a special chamber for this purpose in the kiche. A concrete floor and a couple of benches made of iron bars. That's it. Sleep as you please. And harsh psychological pressure from the neighboring "huts." The poor souls' wake-up and bedtime routine was like this: they sang "Union of the Indestructible..." All the "runners" tried to sing to keep the "listeners" satisfied.

The Chechens were a separate topic.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Simple

In our unit, the "runners" who were caught were put in the kich.

There was nowhere to run in Chukotka, everything was official there...
The defectors resigned, packed their belongings and left, but they continued their subversive work with all their might... this seriously undermined the units, and what units they were - here you have intelligence, counterintelligence, and espionage from within, which was carried out in favor of the "new armies"...

[3x3zsave]

everything was official....
I must admit, it worked both ways. I also transferred quite officially from Kharkiv to Murmansk.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Olgovich

Thanks to the author

Thank you, I'm trying my best to tell you what was and what never was...

[Alex013]

Thanks for the interesting article! "...The entire Chukotka population was 156, peaking in 1990 at 162, and now at 48, just for reference..." – depopulation is underway in many regions. In my home region (the region is in the Central Federal District), the population was 20 in 1979, and now it's just over 6...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Alex013

Thanks for the interesting article!

Likewise, thank you for your feedback!

Quote: Alex013

Depopulation is underway in many regions. In my home region (the oblast is in the Central Federal District), the population was 20 in 1979; now it's just over 6...

Yeah, right... But about Chukotka... Chukotka's territory is one and a half times larger than France... and only 46 thousand people remain...

[3x3zsave]

Well, what do you expect? In the 2s, there was a special resettlement program for people from the North. The Murmansk region (which is a resort compared to Chukotka!) has shrunk almost half its size.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Anton, you know, I didn't want any of this "optimization"... My father-in-law, a very simple, hard-working man, without any special education, said back then, "What, don't they understand anything there? Leaving the north is like abandoning your children."... but the smart guys didn't want to understand that, either then or today...

[3x3zsave]

People seem to be starting to understand things now, but no one is going to move into a destroyed infrastructure these days. Living in a construction trailer for three years with a small child, like my parents, is nothing romantic.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Now it seems like they've started to understand something, but nowadays no one will go to the destroyed infrastructure.

I don't really believe it... not to understand, but to "implement the project"... that's what they call it now... And then the project will end... or, even more simply, they'll forget about it... and who cares that people have linked their fate with this north - for them, "the project is over"...
I'm not for a bestial existence, of course, conditions and comfort are necessary... But even more necessary is a goal... And somehow this doesn't work out... temporary workers...

[Korsar4]

The "housing issue" always remains.

By the way, it was the winter of the 90s, when both water and heating were scarce. My second daughter was just born.

However, the presence of gas was almost a complete help.

For parents, things were much more difficult in the early 70s.

[3x3zsave]

My second daughter was just born.
When my middle child turned 6 months old, August 98 arrived.

[Korsar4]

After that, by 2000, things started to improve.

However, here each person’s personal choice played a role.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

How happy we were when the leadership announced that it was committing to resolving the housing issue for officers' families within three years...
They're still deciding... almost 20 years have passed...

[3x3zsave]

How happy we were when the leadership announced that it was committing to resolving the housing issue for officers' families within three years...
You should have remembered at that moment how "it" (the leadership, I mean, and not what you thought) resolved the issue of apartments for the families of officers withdrawn from the GSVG...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Let me remind you how the matter is still being resolved: Timur Ivanov, as a distinguished worker, was given tens of millions (or hundreds) in benefits for the privatization of palaces... for a poor homeless person...
All power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely... a very true maxim...

[3x3zsave]

I can remind you how it is still being resolved
Now thanks to military mortgages.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Now thanks to military mortgages.

Anton, if you're talking about slogans, then yes... in reality, everything is significant... unprintable interjections... I'm a lawyer, after all, and I have to consult on real cases...

[3x3zsave]

So, Vasily, tell me, as a lawyer, what's wrong with the cases where tens of thousands of contract workers in March 2022 instantly found themselves "five hundred"? They took an oath, didn't they? Or is an oath now just a clause in an employment contract? "If the employer fails to ensure the safety of the work being performed, the employee is free to terminate the contract."

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Anton, I once made a comment in a public space (indoors), and some overzealous "friends of the people" immediately slapped me with a denunciation...
So, I won't answer your question in the comments. I'll write it up in an article somewhere, so it doesn't get picked up. I'll give it a detailed explanation, with all the necessary links to laws and court rulings. I made a pun here, it's even funny to me.

[3x3zsave]

It's your choice, whatever you say. I'm already used to it. There's someone at our company who says, "We'll discuss this later, in person."

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

I'm not talking about the habit of keeping silent. I'm talking about the habit of being responsible for your words. I am responsible for mine. That's why I say what I'm willing to answer for, and not just waste my breath.

[3x3zsave]

Okay, fine. We're all like that here.

[Korsar4]

In terms of promises over the last 30 years, we're record-breakers. On a variety of scales.

[3x3zsave]

Yeah. "A guy said it - a guy did it. If he didn't do it - he said it again."

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

"A guy said it - a guy did it. If he didn't do it - he said it again."

And then he forgot to stop, and kept talking and talking...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

World... Donya doesn't measure up, even with Greenland it's weak...

[3x3zsave]

Donya has really pulled through in the last 24 hours.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

Donya has really pulled through in the last 24 hours.

It's true, he scored a goal... but let's leave Donya to the news))) he'll earn more there)

[Boris Borisovich Skrynnik]

Hello Vasily "Batkovich" Ostrovsky. I really appreciate your description of Providence Bay. I was stationed at this address in 1984, from spring to fall, at SSPTU-2 in Providence. And I have a question for you: how did we all see the fleet from our training building, firing at the mouth of the bay? It was utterly impressive!!! And the marines on the hills were firing back so hard that we, in the fazanka, were collecting macaroni (from unburned shell casings) and using them to make explosive packages for fights with the villagers. There were some terrible fights. It's okay that it's expensive. However, I really enjoy reading your articles.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Boris Borisovich, I am glad to see the seer on these pages!
Ships rarely practiced artillery fire in Provideniya—there was a tight security presence there, and firing decent-caliber rounds was simply impossible; you'd scare away all the birds! But small guns—up to 76mm—were occasionally fired; these were fired by Project 97P icebreaker-class ships.
I never had the chance to fire naval artillery there...
But the army guys were giving out foam - that's true...

[Boris Borisovich Skrynnik]

Maybe I wrote something wrong. But all with respect to you. It is very interesting to read your articles. In 1984, we had problems with water in the Pheasant. We insulated the windows with mattresses, and everyone slept together (if anyone understands). With respect to you, Boris Borisovich Skrynnik. Who still lives in Kolyma. P.S. and about (office glue) liquid glass, he somehow knows about it since 1980 (Olympics!!!!)

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Boris Borisovich Skrynnik

Maybe I wrote something wrong.

No, everything is fine, it was a forced break, I had no connection, sometimes the channel “disconnects”, sorry.

Quote: Boris Borisovich Skrynnik

It is very interesting to read your articles.

Thank you, it's always nice that your work was useful and interesting to someone)

Quote: Boris Borisovich Skrynnik

The windows were insulated with mattresses, and everyone slept together (if anyone understands).

And as we understand, we are “in the know”!

[Boris Borisovich Skrynnik]

Thank you for your reply. It's something I can still remember 100% after (already!) 42 years. I remember the bells ringing on the boxes, the towers turning, and yes, they boomed loudly for us in the bay's alignment. It was probably just the bay's acoustics. And to follow up on your words in the introduction about "...telling tall tales..." I myself, when I flew to the capital of the USSR (even before the spotted monster) in 81, always had at least a thousand rubles in my pocket. Something I was guilty of bragging about. Although in Magadan we had 8 allowances, not 10 like in Chukotka.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Boris Borisovich Skrynnik

I remember the bells ringing on the boxes, the towers turning, and yes, in the bay's alignment, they boomed loudly for us. It was probably just the acoustics of the bay playing that way.

Boris Borisovich, the acoustics of Providence Bay worked exactly as you described. The bays and coves of this part of the Bering Sea were truly spectacular, especially when entering from the sea. The beauty, the coastal cliffs and islets teeming with birds that are rarely seen further south. A truly beautiful place.

Quote: Boris Borisovich Skrynnik

Although in Magadan we had 8 allowances, and not 10 like in Chukotka.

This is precisely what was surprising: Magadan, frankly speaking, is not the warmest place in the country, but the allowances are like those in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky, which at that time was almost like a "mainland"...
True, there were cooler places in the Magadan region, but people didn't like to go there voluntarily without a good bonus...

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

You should have remembered at that moment how "it" (the leadership, I mean, and not what you thought) resolved the issue of apartments for the families of officers withdrawn from the GSVG...

You've stepped right on a callus...

[3x3zsave]

Well, sorry, I didn't mean to. I never would have thought that the country's officer corps could have any illusions about its own leadership by the first half of the 2000s.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: 3x3zsave

I would never have thought that the country's officer corps could have retained any illusions about its own leadership by the first half of the 2000s.

Yes, I am surprised myself by our belief in the best...
I remind myself of a joke:
"We are heading towards communism! Where are you going?"

[traveler 63]

Vasily! Thank you so much for the article! Although, in my opinion, it's at least a short story! I only managed to read it on the third try. Everything was conveyed so well...it felt like I was back in the 90s! Many of us have grievances against the authorities, but we served and, without false modesty, served honorably! There are no "former" officers!

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Andrey, thank you for your sincere feedback. It's very heartwarming. And it's a real commitment...

Quote: Traveler 63

Many of us have complaints about the authorities, but we served and served honestly without false modesty!

We served the Motherland, but not everyone understands that the Motherland and power are not identical...
Under the old, old regime, they used to say, "For Faith, Tsar, and Fatherland"—that is, a triumvirate on one side, and on the other, the Tsar separately, the Fatherland separately, and faith separately. The Fatherland, though considerably plucked by power-hungry individuals, cannot be taken away from us; it remains, no matter what its official name. But power is a temporary matter, no matter how hard they try to preserve it "forever." Faith is gradually being restored, but it is unlikely to become the foundation—it has been eradicated by three generations of unbelief... although how history will unfold—we never know.

The 90s are a difficult topic... both for analysis and even for such a small literature...

Thank you!

[Korsar4]

A very important question is what holds the Fatherland together. And even today.

It's like hoops connecting oak staves.

For example, language. Borders, railways. And so on.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

The remark is super!

Quote from Korsar4

A very important question is what holds the Fatherland together.

A thousand times - "For"!
The general idea of ​​the Fatherland is, of course, faith, continuity of generations, education, and the idea - the idealistic concept of something unattainable, but beautiful, of course - language...

These aren't absolutes, of course, but they're pretty close. Not everything remains of this set today. The government had a full hand in this negative process, but the resulting crisis scared them, since it raised the risk of losing power. So, today we see what we see. Just recently, 90% of the terminology and rhetoric couldn't be found, even under duress, in the media or online. Everyone was happy with everything: "humanity shares a common destiny," "from Edita Piekha to screw you," with three cheerful letters, the main thing = the end and we'll buy everything, etc. Starting the morning with this plunges the entire day into a fog.

[Korsar4]

That's right. The continuity of generations is cemented by shared interests. When both old and young have something to talk about. And even better, to do together.

When youth slang is not a rejection.

Faith is a very personal matter.

But when we are close to the Holy Equal-to-the-Apostles Princess Olga, and the Venerable Sergius of Radonezh, and Daniel of Moscow, this unites us very much.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote from Korsar4

The continuity of generations is cemented by shared interests. When both old and young have something to talk about. And even better, to do together.

I fully and unconditionally support this.

When youth slang is not a rejection.

And that's true. That's what slang is for, the main thing is that it doesn't turn into language.

Quote from Korsar4

Faith is a very personal matter.

That's why they call it freedom of conscience...

We stand united with you and many other readers on all these issues. This is what makes us a people...

[Artyom Yarovikov]

The oligarchs and private capital for themselves—they believe in the presidential administration and the Federation Council—are holding their homeland together. They've divided up state assets (capital). And they're living happily ever after. All the deputy prime ministers of the 1990s abroad are dollar millionaires, and their Russian enterprises are owned by them (not entirely, but they carry the profits to the West). Only Gref, from that gang, didn't flee to the West... He continues to work in Russia.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

A very interesting twist, however...
A call from an old friend:
- Listen, my wife read your story and got indignant: you're lying about the story with the cat in Anadyr... I'll give her the phone...
- Hey! Why did you offend my Tim so much? He couldn't stand "Bush legs," they were pure chemistry... Back then, the crew wasn't carrying "Bush legs," but whole chickens. So, my Timochka ripped open a box of chickens and, poor thing, bruised a couple of them... So, correct me - those weren't "Bush legs," but chickens, Soviet ones, from a poultry farm... And the detachment's chief of staff, Lieutenant Colonel Okhrimenko, a great guy, was also flying in at the time...
That's how it is, fact-checking in the truest sense of the word. After 35 years...

[Korsar4]

This is additional evidence. Eyewitnesses are gathering.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote from Korsar4

Eyewitnesses are gathering.

Yeah... all the rights to the author's fiction are going upside down...

[Dzungar]

Excellent article. Although I had a somewhat uneasy feeling throughout the entire reading. Well, it's clear why... A big hello to all the PROFESSIONALS! From the infantry, a soldier of my country. 1st and 2nd Chechen, a bit of Syria, and now - the SVO. 57 years old, served in the USSR in a construction battalion, SPETSNAZ and Reconnaissance of the Internal Troops of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, SPETSNAZ GRU, PMC. In the SVO last year, I barely escaped a kamikaze drone, but lost a leg. Well, that's it - I fought... GOOD HEALTH TO ALL

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Dzungar

Excellent article. Although I did have a somewhat uneasy feeling throughout the entire reading. Well, it's clear why...

The author warns about this at the beginning of the story...
The collapse of the country in Moscow and in Chukotka are essentially different things...
When there is a struggle for power, no one cares about the fate of people...

The contenders believe that any sacrifice is permissible for the right to sit on the royal chair... if they consider anything at all, other than their own ambitions...

The Motherland always remains the Motherland, a soldier in history always corrects the mistakes of politicians... Get well soon, thank you for your honor, conscience and valor, I bow low.

[P]

the author is deeply mistaken in part

As a result of the collapse of the USSR during 1991–1993, up to 40 percent of ground, naval, and air forces and assets were lost.

100% was lost. The seizure of territories and resources by separatists also affected the main separatist structure, which would later be called the Russian Federation.

[trasher2000]

Thank you so much for the truthful story!
The impossible was made possible... but nostalgia remained.
Maybe because they were young and reckless.
Anadyr 1983-1990, geologist.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: trasher2000

Thank you so much for the truthful story!

Thank you for such an assessment...

In October 1702, the ancient Russian fortress of Oreshek, which had been held by the Swedes for 90 years under the name Noteburg and renamed by Peter the Great to Shlisselburg, or "Key City," was liberated by storm. Special medals were awarded to those who took two Swedish ships at the mouth of the Neva by boat in 1703. Since such a raid had never been seen before in world history, the medal was inscribed with the inscription “The unprecedented happens.”

It's as usual: if you set the right goals, even the impossible can happen!
Peter I set such tasks and got results.
Today, results are achieved where the task is set correctly.
And if "we don't see here, we don't shoot here, there are brothers, and here there are some not so good ones"... then the result is the same....

[Mekey Iptyshev]

Thank you for the article.
It reminded me of the reality of very strong winds (20+ m/s). It reminded me of the supply situation for our army in 2000-02. It reminded me of the tragic incidents with conscripts in the army.
I read and remembered the regimental chief of staff. And his edifying conversation about the army with a special forces officer, pointing at me, a conscript.
It is people like our Chief of Staff who hold the army together, and the country as a whole, while there is chaos in the Kremlin.

[Vasily_Ostrovsky]

Quote: Mekey Iptyshev

It is people like our Chief of Staff who hold the army together, and the country as a whole, while there is chaos in the Kremlin.

Exactly...
Well, sometimes the mess there drags on, and people leave...