This is the third part of O. Bolotnikov's memoirs about his service in the 10 OA air defense missile system.
(Stories the third, fourth and forth ...)
We walked into such distances ...
Group "Time Machine"
Group "Time Machine"
How can I get to the island? A strange question, of course - the sea. Well, even by air by helicopter. But this method is costly, in no way dependent on our desires and not often used for us, the islanders. In my memory, no more than ten times the turntable flew in just like that - with mail, with passengers. More often - either with the authorities, or for any other official need or for sanzadanii. Let us pay tribute to comrades flyers, on occasion we took on board as many people as we could shove. Let not quite comfortable, risky, but "fast, profitable, convenient."
I remembered one of the flights, almost literally repeating the old joke. The officer was sent to serve at the “point” and offered to jump to his new duty station from the 20-meter height. When asked to go lower, the pilots replied that, they say, they could not be lower, otherwise they would start jumping from below. We laughed at this anecdote while still being cadets. I did not think that after ten years of officer service, having seen anything, having learned little to be surprised, I will become a witness to a similar situation.
Returning from vacation, I find out that a spinner will go to fly over the island divisions. Although the distant hook turns out, it’s better to rumble while sitting on a bench than it’s not known how to get there, on what and, most importantly, how much time. And so you will see other places, you will see your friends and you will be guaranteed to go home. We flew together with a lieutenant-builder, he had to “go out” at Morzhovets (also a little place!). On that island, the size of our Kumbysh, there was a separate HRD, and at the other end of it a stroybatovtsev department was on a business trip, something was being built or made up — that was not the point. The lieutenant was returning from the city, carrying presents to his fighters - all the mura for demobelian albums. They flew to Morzhovets, sat down next to the company, unloaded something, took something, got up, flew off just south of the location of the builders. Go down. “Bortach” shifts the door and something leyuthe shouts in his ear (in helicopters, the passengers talk like that - at the limit of ligament tension and active gestures), he agrees. Explains to me:
-I will land. There is no ground, and the snow is deep, you cannot sit down.
-What height? - I ask.
Yes, who knows, they promise about three meters. You then drop my bags, but not on the head.
It can be seen, the guy had the experience of such a "landing" already. He tied the cap, intercepted his overcoat at his knees with a trouser belt and jumped by a soldier. I look - on the very shoulders in a snowdrift sticks out far-oh below. Well, what is the height from which it is necessary to fly, what would you like a pile and a half meter into dense March snow? We threw his bags at him, waved a handle, then went on. It was difficult for me to determine the height in the snow whirlwind "by eye", but remembering the lieutenant’s jump and the flight time of his bags, I think he was flying at least five meters. Such is the joke.
Still, the main way to us was by sea. Our island was not in the ocean. The Northern Dvina Delta is a whole network of rivers, canals, and islands. A few more kilometers actually was by sea. In summer, the fairway was marked. In winter, we traveled about the same way, on the rivers - along familiar landmarks, and at sea the road was marked with landmarks.
In addition to the regimental transport often traveled with the help of local residents. The people and the army really were one. Well, or at least tightly friendly.
Sometimes the regimental case had to wait a long time to get from Arkhangelsk. That is a storm warning, then a breakdown, then "in terms of no." We all knew the cherished addresses in the villages of countless timber mills, in coastal villages, where one could apply with a request to take them to Kumbysh. What wonderful people these Pomeranian men are! Another will grumble, grumble, certainly complain about the gasoline shortage, cursing, pulling the cord of an old Whirlwind ... and - whether it's day or night, the weather or bad weather, whether he is sober or drunk - lucky. I always remember with the warmth of these wonderful people with their cold mouths, hardened shovels, gruff conditions and kind hearts. For centuries they lived in strong spacious huts with doors that did not know constipation, welcoming and welcoming. And further. I do not remember the case that a car would not slow down a lonely passer-by on the winter road. These were wondrous times!
And now about trips on our boats. Ships were - wow, strong and roomy "Yaroslavl", with a decent course.
They could take a lot of different goods, and the people in good weather - no matter how much they plant. Especially no one counted, but if needed, a person up to thirty at a time could be transported. The main thing is to place everyone not in one place. Another thing is that such a need almost never occurred. But, as they say, not without exceptions and, as always, not in the best of the weather.
The end of October is late autumn. Not according to the calendar, of course, but according to the actual weather. On small rivers, buoys from the fairways have already been removed, navigation is only along the main channel for large vessels. For the “small-scalers”, that's all, we say goodbye until next spring. All the rare villages lurking along the dark shores. The message will be resumed only on winter roads. Our Kumbysh had to lay low. To him until the freezing and full-fledged winter road to wait another hoo how much. The sea is not a river, salty and wavy, it will freeze longer. Therefore, it was necessary to make another couple of flights from the island and back to the ground. First, something, as always, did not have time to bring food and property, secondly, someone sent their families for off-road periods to go home or on vacation, they wanted to go to the polyclinic with the children. In addition, it was necessary to take out the demobilized soldiers. The so-called “parties” traditionally formed two on the island. Zero - before the November holidays - was falling with all the amenities, a boat. It got the best, disciplined, conscious, and just good. The rest of them snapped their teeth until the end of December and went down to the mainland on foot, the ice road for cars was still unsuitable at that time. In general, it is clear that the fighters from the island also had to be taken out, and left to oneself more expensive. Yes, and purely humanely guys have served, why not send, if you can?
At first glance, the White Sea does not seem to be serious - there is not a lot of deep waters, in itself is small. If it storms, then the wave is low, although frequent and kind of evil. Any sea is not a pond in a shady park. Whoever forgets about it, can bitterly regret, if, of course, he has time.
Before falling asleep under the ice blanket, the sea loves to fool around like a draftee who received a summons. At Kumbyshe, it usually, with knowledge, dealt with the remnants of the temporary berth, licked and carried away any carefully forgotten objects, some cable coils, metal, logs, old boats, etc. If you could reach it, it could split the leading marks, although before them the distance to the big water is 30 meters from the edge.
That memorable day was inclement, cold, but the sea was quiet.
Loaded onto the boat happily, though not without difficulties. From the pier only sticking logs-piles, and in some places the surviving boardwalk remained. Fighters with jokes galloping along the ends of the piles, women with a lively squeal clambered up along the same body as the truck. Once placed, you can move away to get to the right sleeve before darkness.
It was not there. On the White Sea, the weather changes in a moment. Suddenly, the wind changed, the boat piled on the pier, do not depart. Tyr-pyr - in any. The wave cleared, it began to beat seriously. They thought with a tide downstream to rebound, but it turned out worse. The board is cracking, the flank - into chips. Somehow they were delayed and - hello to you - they dried out. The boat is aground, and given the presence of the keel, it is so well tilted, and the wave is already his breech, like Trezor is a forgotten slipper. There is nothing to do, the people should be removed, until the tide began. But that's bad luck, only the depth at the side - “you will be waist-high”, to the coast no further than 15 meters, but the girls absolutely do not want to go overboard. On the deck they got hooked, who - for what, only “Varyag” is not sung. The machine can not take off - flood. Invented to fit the crane from the technical battery. We hung a loop with a bowing knot on the hook, so our beauties were taken to the coast in a circus manner.
Now, for completeness of perception, let's imagine the whole scene. Pitch dark, in the light of headlights - only rain and snow. Waves, foam, spray. A boat in the dark can be guessed only by the breakers, they are screaming something, but that is not to make out. The crowd at the water is also not silent, what the op is here is also not clear, for sure nothing substantial. Nearby the pier is cracking and crumbling, and the Ural truck crane stands in the waves and, roaring with a choked motor, turns the boom. And upstairs under the arrow - with their feet in the loop, with their hands on the hook - and also not silently, another combat friend returns to the shore.
Submitted? You must admit that Spielberg does not have such a rich imagination.
It was easier with the warriors - they crossed the ford, and the children were transferred beforehand.
Do you think this is all over? Not at all, the laws of the genre are firm. By the end of the crossing, the water had already arrived decently and the unloaded boat podspledl. The cleared sea still played a bit with it, and then so flipped that it flew lightly over the beach, flopped into the bushes, and there it subsided until spring. At the same time, the miserable remains of the wreckage pier were eliminated and removed from sight. Now - the curtain! Thanks to everybody, you're free.
They reported the incident to the regiment, not too much, however, coloring details. From there, the division and further to the army headquarters passed a report that in such and such a regiment the navigation delivery was completed according to the plan of such and such a year, all the watercrafts were mothballed ashore. And who cares, that in Arkhangelsk on keelblocks and under a tarp there is only one boat? And his “sistership” is also on the shore, but on Kumbysh, lies in the bushes on its side, covered with snow.
With this long-suffering ship, the story could have ended. We are not particularly sad about his future fate. To restore it cost nothing but hands to attach. We thought that in the summer it would be possible to dry it out, close up the holes in the casing with epoxy or cement. We will negotiate with the port that they will “drag him to Solombala“ for the nostril ”, where they will do everything for the glorious“ Red Forge ”in a week, it will be better than a new one.
However, “higher intelligence” interfered with these plans. At the beginning of the summer she brought to us the uneasy kind of bureaucrat from the army department, and he, not particularly delving into the essence of the matter, reported to the commander about this unforeseen wintering of the boat. Well, of course, the commander only worries that understand where there is and what launch on which bank lying! We have an order: "Three days deadline, launch the boat." Like this!
Orders, as is known, are not discussed. But as they are, they will be fulfilled. They collected all service-free, dug a channel in two days.
On the third day we laid the logs across the ditch, lifted the boat and dragged them to the water with two TZMs. They brought a camera and waited for the tide. The water came, the cutter swayed proudly on the wave, we, accustomed to photo-control, took a few pictures and quickly reported on the implementation of the order.
After another quarter of an hour, choking through the holes, the boat gurgled near the shore and remained for many years to stick out of the water, like a monument .... I wanted to write: "human stupidity", but stopped. And if you think about it, was it really so reckless to decide to drive a little boat without navigation equipment, risking falling into such a mess? After all, if a helicopter would fly to us guaranteed once a week, would mothers and children rush to show them to doctors and buy something for the winter? And then they would not sit for weeks in the hotels of another city, waiting for any opportunity. If these turntables would carry not only the “representatives” of the departments who protruded their lips, they would bring fresh food, medicine and mail. Who would know what it feels like to read letters two months ago and flipping through newspapers from the same age the news? And also to open parcels with foul gifts? I'm not talking about the immense list of all necessary food, clothing and technical equipment, starting from a bar of soap and a cook hat and ending with spare parts and solders for soldering irons.
My service began in the radio engineering troops, I know that compared to their units in Kolguev, Novaya Zemlya, Franz Josef Land, our location was much more convenient. Only in PTB, the logistics and technical support was adjusted to the specifics of the deployment, and we were supplied according to the principle: "We will throw up something for you, deliver the rest yourself." Yes, and this centralized delivery, if you remember .... Here, for example, I remembered. Such a prose of life is coal. He sent us 60 tons of "ordinary Vorkuta" for a year. Well, they will unload it to us on the stalk, and, at most, in a day in its place only black sand will remain, and the grimy seals will snort and sneeze - it will blow everything away for two ebb. What to take out? From trucks - only the onboard ZIL-157, throw two tons of shovels, take it to the boiler room, reset it with shovels. For a month of work. You know what else they took? Antenna trailers - such light carts, designed for the gentle transportation of openwork grilles. And we are on them - coal! I still remember how Kolya Enko, our deputy. in arms, he turned his face to stone, hearing how these graceful "coal-carriages" groan and literally groan.
So then coal, it was sent by the plan of the northern delivery. Most of the necessary was delivered independently.
I was a little distracted, sorry. So about helicopters and boats. Was it justified and necessary to send our "dembels" in such weather? And this is how to look. Our fighters did not see any dismissals or cultural campaigns - these little soldier joys. Leave is a rare phenomenon, but a good specialist, as a rule, was not replaced by someone on combat duty, then the beginning of the school year, then the final test, now the testing ground. So two years for him and fly. So the only thing that could thank them, honestly served, only sending with the "zero party".
Can I complain about the anger of the commander? Not at all. In the area of responsibility of the 10-th separate air defense army, the entire European part of the Soviet Arctic, and on land, a third of western Europe. Such an ordinary incident, even the seconds of his attention should not take. Having received an incorrect, as they would now be called, but in fact a false report, he made a decision, ordered and should have forgotten about it. Did not forget. When the whole story of the flooding ended, the commander handed his personal boat to the regiment, we called him "admiral". In his polished and lacquered cockpit, we no longer carried bags and crates, but it was no longer convenient to drive. But we did not wait for scheduled flights.
So what was the monument to the worn out ship torn out of the water? Maybe not a monument, but a reminder that it is always necessary to reckon with nature and not imagine itself as its master. And with the sea - you can never joke like that.
When it became obvious that this “thorn” was over, he was quickly “taken away”. An anchor and a chain decorated the site in front of the barracks, and in the officers' apartments on the walls were placed lifebuoys and steering wheels. I still have a wheel on my front door. Now, as a memory.
Basically, our voyages took place without any special excesses. Of course, they could have got into the storms, could get lost in the dark time, on the shoals they used to sit, but, subject to a number of immutable rules, flights on large boats did not present any difficulties. It was more difficult to travel on small boats, on motorboats. All these "Kazanka" and "Progress", even the winged "Ob" or respectable "Sarepta" did not guarantee security. The entire fleet of domestic "malomera" was made for swimming on rivers and small lakes. Boat trips on such boats could end unexpectedly quickly and very badly.
There was another way to get to the island. Military fraternity and true friendship connected us with the maritime border guards. Their boats served in the port waters, and they also had a position not far from us, at the receiving buoy. We treated them to our delicious freshly baked bread, gave mushrooms, berries, fish, and they often threw us into the city or back. Normal good relationship!
Northern nature was remembered for its low-key harsh beauty. And there were also luxurious days in the midst of a short summer, which simply amazed with a riot of colors, when the blue of the sky and water merge on an indistinguishable horizon line, sun glare blinded eyes and sand shoals of small islands are golden. One day, a huge white whale emerged very close to our board, followed us for a while, and then saluted us with a pretty friendly tail. See you Not only troubles accompanied us in our travels.
On trips on the “liquid” sea, I stopped in detail to contrast with the story of driving on the sea “solid”. "Hardened" it, as a rule, as early as November, but due to frequent tides, the road could only be laid in a month. The first began to go fishermen from the seaside villages on a sleigh, on the "Buran" and even on such a vehicle called "Kangaroo". A rear axle was mounted on a motorcycle, wheels from tractor chambers were put on, a ski was strengthened in front. This is the simplest device "Kangaroo". Does it look like an Australian resident? There were larger and more complex mechanisms - 2-x and 3-host, others - with booths. On the ice, on the nast they flew with unimaginable playfulness. It is noteworthy that it was not dangerous to fly into the polynya at them - the cameras created good buoyancy. I was able to use all the above-mentioned types of transport more than once, but the most exciting were the “rally” on these homemade products. Inflated until the ringing and wrapped with tape tape on irregularities tossed so that you do not know what to hold tight. So you jump from hummock to hummock. One word - kangaroo!
The automobile route began to work since January. That really had to puff on it. There were happy times when there were snowless frosty days. Then they whistled across the ice like on a runway. To the mainland for some time with a little traveled. Then on business trips, to all sorts of meetings, coordination, classes, competitions, everyone traveled with pleasure and pleasure. But more often the road was different, and it was remembered by zastrugs and potholes, hummocks up to 2 meters, loose or wet (one devil!) Snow, hard, as sharp as broken glass, cars sitting on bridges, digging, pushing-rocking, towing and other "delights" of the winter road. This is good in the woods, on some deadbolt to get stuck. There brushwood, lapnik can be piled under the wheels. Or wait for someone who will go by. And on the sea, what are you going to throw under the wheels, who will you wait for?
Somehow one clever man, who had read heroic books, asked why, they say, we could not put on our overcoats.
You - I say - do not compare the frontline lump with a loaded ZiL. To him that his overcoat, that his handkerchief is nasal, he will hold and throw it away. Yes, and I looked at you with minus 30, in the wind and without overcoat.
On this road, an ambush could still wait for us in the form of ravines appearing in shallow water, and wormwood that appeared at all is not clear why. Covered with a thin film and covered with snow, they become visible only when you find yourself.
Well, the weakest impression left about the track, flooded with water. It is more correct to say that water covered the whole space to the horizon. In March-April, the snow cover on the ice melted and the water poured everything around with a half-meter layer. At the same time, the ice remained thick and strong, so that if necessary we sent the machines without a doubt. But the spectacle, I say, is not for the faint of heart. There is no ice under the layer of water, and the alarming expectation that the car will now cease to pretend to be a steamer, and will go straight to the bottom, was constantly present. Therefore, riding with the doors open and standing on the steps was a familiar attraction. And very memorable. My wife, for example, about twenty years later, still dreamed about these little trips.
By the middle of April, the ice broke, it loosened, cracked and the water disappeared. It was a signal that the jokes were over, it's time to end with the trips. Until the summer, every message stopped.
Had to walk and walk (50 km, what a trifle!) And ride in a sleigh, stiff from the cold. But I wanted to tell more about this.
Do you think we only know how to sink ships? Machines too!
Kohl Yenko was driving a car, driving a dozen fighters to the island. It was the middle of winter, the road is quite decent. And then the White Sea played another joke. About the frequent ebb and flow I have already mentioned. So, because of this, in certain places, two ice sheets were formed - according to the levels of high and low water. I would never have known about this if Colin hadn’t left the car under the ice. Do not be scared, not immediately. The machine is not a tank, it does not sink immediately, but it is not recommended to click with your beak. The guys and did not click, jumped out briskly, legs without wetting. Equipped an expedition to pull out the drowned woman. We brought boards, logs, cables ... I think it’s not necessary to explain that nothing happened anyway, but the impression remained.
It turned out that our "mistress" whacked under the top layer of ice and stood on the bottom. At low tide it was possible to go down. Indescribable picture! From the top of the breach the sun illuminates the truck, which stands between fancy pillars and curved walls. All this, rounded and twisted, is lost in the greenish-gray twilight, water drips and murmurs everywhere, continuous crackle, rustling, slaps. The spectacle is fantastic and completely unreal. We didn’t carry cameras with us, and even with that technique we could hardly have used it, so take my word for it.
It became clear that after the sea water the car could not be restored, everything that could have been removed from it and left until the summer - no longer going anywhere. After the ice drift, it turned out that the “mistress” was in shallow water, and at low tide the picture was no less amazing. In the middle of the water, immersing the wheels, wings and frame, stands an unkillable army 157, as if it were here and in place. A passing civilian people only marveled at the ability of the military to unexpectedly find themselves anywhere in the world, on any vehicle not even intended for that.
Then there was another performance. In the Soviet Army could break up any unit. The main thing after this procedure was to present the results of this work, of varying degrees of complexity, to an authoritative commission that will draw up the relevant act. Tarantas had to pull out of unusual parking. Cars should not go by sea, ships go by sea. No question, fix it! After some negotiations, having considered the alcohol cans argument, the captain of the tugboat began clearing the water area. Brought the cable as thick as a good log, hooked, pulled. It looked like that. On the fairway a huge sea rescuer rushes, behind him a tiny, like a box, our “mistress”. Dive, run some, then pops up with a cork to tell what she saw there. Will tell and - again down, for new impressions.
These are the "pictures from the exhibition." Then we drag the ship over land, then - ship the car across the sea.
All kinds of miracles did not happen to us alone. The civilian population also tried to keep up with the creation of situations that later became anecdotes for the whole neighborhood. That was the case.
A few friends set off for ice fishing. We drove on the "Zaporozhets" on the river, rode, rode, drove into the polynya. Well done guys! From a cramped car in sheepskin coats and felt boots instantly evacuated, even the box with vodka was not forgotten. It became clear that today the fishing didn’t work out well, there is another fishing ahead of which we must catch the machine. They made a notch for omens, stuck a branch at the right turn and went to look for a village in order to look for a tractor in it. Village found. Morning of the day, peyzane rest. While they were looking for the tractor driver, while they were hungry, while they were looking for someone who remembers where they left the tractor yesterday, and, they were too hungry for it, they were already looking for the tractor, while they were driving and driving, time was passing. As time went on, another group of comrades was pleased with the same wormwood. With the same result. Themselves saved, saved vodka. The car, of course, carried out with a sad sigh. "Moskvich", by the way. Then everything is in the established order: a sprig, a little tree, a trip to the village - one or the other - the search for a machine operator, his tractor .... The thing is, you know, not a minute - to find, persuade, sober ... etc.
During this time interval, the discoverers of the open-hearth with a heated tractor driver and the warmed-ups themselves began a rescue operation. They identified, I don’t know by what principle, the main performer, he dived, hooked and shook to the touch, emerged, rubbed off, still accepted “for warm weather”. Well, pray, started. Pull pull, pulled! ... ... A fig yourself a trap! Loop loop eyes. Just remember that drowned orange "Zaporozhets", and pulled up the green "Moskvich". They do not understand, look around, remember the signs. As always, looking for someone to blame. Guilty, as always, does not agree –that, they say, the little thing, and here is the twig.
Then the 2-I group of rescuers arrived in the same condition and full of determination. And here such luck - the machine has already been raised. It stands, bleeding with the last streams and becoming covered with an icy crust.
Oh, guys, thank you, we owe, schA pour!
Thanks so much Where is our car ?! We stoked it here. This is our polynya!
Why is it yours suddenly ?! Our!! Here is a sprig! And won - zarubochka!
And our little penny! And here is our twig!
1-I group, for the sake of justice, is ready to shove the "Muscovite" back and go look for another polynya, where the "Zaporozhtsy" are caught. 2-I team, for the sake of common sense, proposes to refrain from the triumph of justice.
I found someone who was more intelligent, offered to shuffle in the ice-hole of the ice-floe. Groped. Again the guilty was appointed, naturally, of the one who had been appointed as the executor before this:
Are you really a fool ?! Green "Moskvich" from the orange "Zaporozhets" can not be distinguished, color blind!
For the color blind answer! There is not a store that was, then took it.
In general, the “performer”, he is the “guilty”, remains the same.
"Zaporozhets", as expected, was exactly at the same place, only a little deeper - "Moskvich" he sat on the roof.
It’s good that they managed to save the vodka right away. Washed, as usual, reconciled, fraternized, parted happy. Everybody was more satisfied and drunker “guilty”, he is “performer”. The main thing is that not a cold.
Nevertheless, we, the defenders of the Fatherland, did the main focuses on these roads and crossroads. We also had a wider range of opportunities, and, accordingly, more ways to use them. Here is another legendary event.
It is well known how spontaneously launch rocket launchers from missile launchers. Unusual cases, but explainable. Either because of lightning discharges, or because of the accumulation of static voltage, the starting engines were triggered. But in our regiment, in order to intensify intimidation and final entanglement of the likely enemy, we managed to launch without charging the rocket, and not even from a position, but directly from the wheels, on the march. It was like this.
Two of the four fire divisions of the regiment were located in wild and low-habitable places. Ours is on Kumbyshe, and the other is also at the devil on the outskirts, in the village of Lapominke. The road there is the same - in the summer "liquid", in winter ice. The same island, only in the middle of the taiga. We went from there for a new rocket, not like we did in the previous story about the "ring races", but more carelessly - just one TZM, and even without an awning.
The “product” was loaded, friends from the technical division rented a tarpaulin to them and escorted with their car, but only around the city and along the highway. At the congress on the winter road, they parted and took away their tarpaulin, realizing that only give the horse-radish to Lupinka and then get what you get.
The road winds around - sometimes with a forest, now with a river, it looks indistinguishable. Guys rocket dragged, as in the parade, naked. Fir-trees cone her ironed, that - happy is, accumulates static. Not long gained, she has a starting voltage 12 volts in total. Fools saved the fact that the road made a turn, the tractor turned, and the trailer did not yet. Here darling and "took a low start."
Shandarahnulo so that the TZM-ka and the trailer at the same speed, but pines flew in the other direction to count. Due to the weather, the windows in the cabin were closed - also good luck. Everything happened instantly, they didn’t even have time to crap, because they did not understand anything. The cabin was all smoked, the wheels were burned, and the crane in a spiral spun.
That seems to be all. All alive - healthy, stutterers did not stay. And “dvadtsatochka”, beauty, worked in the national economy - showed the local timber industry enterprise how it is necessary to build clearances. Such are the legends.
No, not all! A few words about the boat again.
Someone asked for filmmakers from us at Kumbysh. Not quite to us, we gave them a flashlight, they made a documentary about some rare species of geese. Swam around, took off, drank, left. We forgot about them. And somewhere at the end of 80's, another feature film about the Great Patriotic War was released. He was called, if I am not mistaken, "There lived a brave captain" or, maybe, "Was ...", I do not remember exactly, but something like that. The film takes place in the northern port city. There a sailor on a small ship accomplishes a feat, and in the final episode honors are given to the wreck of this dead ship. As in the famous fairy tale: “Steamboats are sailing — hello to Kibalchish!” We look - we do not believe the eyes. Well, for sure - our boat, so dear, all shabby, beaten, stands commercially, heroically tilting. The entire episode is mounted, takes a few seconds, but do not we know the familiar landscape? So really our cutter became a monument.
Now that's it.