Real историяslightly modified by the author.
As soon as he crossed the threshold of his unit, the commander of the control battery and artillery reconnaissance captain Zakidonov froze in amazement. A young fighter, Oidop Batojabaev, who was full-time on the battery, diligently nailed a sign with the words “PRP” to the office door.
"And here is the Mobile Intelligence Point?" - flashed through Zakidonov's head. But he said aloud:
- What's up, fighter? Who ordered?
Batozhabaev dropped the hammer in surprise, turned around and frightenedly stared at the captain.
- So you ordered, however.
- When ?!
- I do not know. The "grandfather" Puzikov came, gave a sign, ordered quick, quick to beat, the captain would come, check, however.
- What is written on it, said?
- So accurate! Point of Distribution Pindyuley now now all the office will call. Order of the most important.
- Again, this tum! - groaned Zakidonov.
"Grandfather" Puzikov was a headache for the battery commander. This fact was explained simply. According to the staffing table, the commander of an artillery battery of intelligence is a communications officer. And what is the signalman knows artillery? So Zakidonov knew little about artillery matters, so he always and everywhere emphasized: he is a signalman! Even the emblems on his uniform, and those were the troops of communication. Puzikov, who proudly carried two guns on his buttonholes, was offended by the artillery, so he defended the honor of the gunners as he could. As far as possible, Puzikov was intriguing to the battalion commander, and he did it with fiction, since he couldn’t take up fantasy. As a rule, Puzikov got away with a lot of things, since he was a first-class specialist: there were only one or two such “sounders” for the whole division.
A lot of things were listed for Puzikov. Once he persuaded young fighters to punch "glasses" in the soldiers' toilet with the help of imitation checkers. Ripped so that the barracks jumped! The sorter was smashed to smithereens, and the battery fertilized the trees for a week behind the fence of the regiment. Another time, again at the request of Puzikov, the young people gathered to poison the ShIRAS mosquitoes in the barracks (a piece to imitate the breaking of an artillery shell). Well, the foreman saw, otherwise I would have had to insert glasses in the barracks! And the last teachings? ..
The battery was attracted to large exercises, fought "red" and "blue." The first day was spent in the usual bustle of the army, equipped positions, camouflaged, tied to the terrain, put up sound posts, fighters of the optical reconnaissance platoon took their places. According to the plan of the exercise, the fighting should begin in the early morning, at 4.30. But an hour earlier, the sound was called by Zakidonov to the central post.
- Comrade Captain, the enemy began shelling our positions. Recorders have earned.
- What is shelling? Before the war, another hour, overheated, or what?
- See for yourself.
Zakidonov stared at the tape recorder. Indeed, on the tape there were characteristic bursts. The last of them, however, did not fit into the big picture: there was some kind of blurry.
- So, fighters, quickly process the data and coordinates of the targets on my map.
Five minutes later, after seeing the coordinates of the "enemy" guns, Zakidonov opened his mouth in amazement. The enemy has equipped its position near our front edge, directly opposite the sound posts! Zakidonov contacted by phone with the "opticians", they confirmed.
- Heard, but did not have time to detect! Hurt quickly shot out!
- How not to have time? Mutts! They are under your nose!
The battalion commander took a look at the battle calculation and asked:
- Where are Puzikov?
- So the current was here, out of need, probably jumped out!
- I will arrange his need! Before the demob of the outfits will not come out! Appear, rot!
I did not know the battalion commander, what a surprise Puzikov prepared for him. Before dawn, he ran to the "opticians" and instructed them in detail how and what the battalion commander would answer if he had any questions. Then, waddling over the breastwork, Puzikov dissolved in the dark and moved to the sound posts. When he reached the first one, he slowly took off his pants and, bringing his ass to the socket of the sound receiver, gave him an "artillery volley." In the silence of the night there was a sound like a roar of a wounded elephant!
- No shit yourself! - puzikov snorted contentedly - No wonder, then, he ate pea concentrate!
He did the same at the second and third sound posts, while saying:
- For the Motherland! For Puzikova! Hi kombatu!
On the fourth post there was a slip. There was not enough "ammunition", the last volley was not convincing and ended with iridescent whistle, like a projectile at an exhaustion. After finishing the "shelling" and pulling his pants, Puzikov rushed to the central post.
The battalion commander's hand was already reaching for the telephone, it was necessary to report on reconnoitered targets when Puzikov appeared at the post.
- Where are you wearing? - cursed battalion commander - Teachings go, do not play toys! Well, look at the recorder!
Puzikov, glancing at the tape, said authoritatively:
- PDM beats!
- What else PDM? I do not know of such a system, the combat officer automatically said.
- How do you not know?
Puzikov pretended to carefully study the recorder tape.
- Yes, right, PDM, there is nobody else! Personal Shit Puzzikov system.
And the "grandfather" Puzikov in a popular form, intelligibly, explained the reason for the work of sound posts. Puzikov spoke the last words already in a jump, flying out of the central post, as he clearly saw the hand of the battalion commander, frantically seizing the soldier's helmet.
For another five minutes the entire combat calculation of the post was heard in the silence of the night the tramp of the legs of the battalion commander, who was chasing Puzikov and his words:
- Cattle! Hush I was about to report to headquarters! And what about? About your fucking PDM! Kill, you bastard!
Throwing away the memories, Zakidonov ordered to immediately deliver Puzikov to him and, having entered the office, he sat down in a chair. The clock on the wall counted out the last puzikovskie minutes ...