In early April, 2003, the fleet for the first time since ancient times was shot from the barrels to throw into the Indian Ocean. In the long trip went without a special pump. Went not to visit. We went to work.
The first Bosphorus 10 of April passed the tanker Bubnov, the tug Shakhtar and the BDK Caesar Kunikov with a reinforced company of marines on board. Not without incident.
Just before the Atatürk bridge, a Turkish patrol boat leaped out from under the eastern shore and, according to VHF, demanded that our large landing craft stop the passage in order to take on board the inspection team.
- Just lost the scent! - the commander of the Kunikov cap-two Sergey Sinkin could not stand it. And ordered to follow the same course.
The boat ran forward. Continuing persistently demanding from BDK to stall the course, it stopped, blocking the way to the Dardanelles.
“He’s also giving us the board, bastard,” Sinkin said biliously. And played the alarm.
Mig - and the crew ran away to the fighting posts. On the deck lay the marines with weapons. The 57-mm cannon cheerfully winked at the descendants of the Janissaries with their twin trunks.
The new order from the boat to go into drift sounded already somehow uncertain. BDK in response ozgnalil "Do not interfere with my actions." The distance between the Kunikov’s tall nose and the patrol's low gunner steadily decreased. Finally, when the Russian paratrooper was relentlessly approaching the 4000-ton carcass of the Russian paratrooper, the Turks cut the full speed and, without saying goodbye, rushed off to the Bosphorus ...
A day later, the Sea of Marmara was held "Moscow" with the TADS "Sharp-witted" and "Pytlivy". The cruiser and the patrol no one tried to inspect.
But it was worth the detachment to leave the Turkish territorial waters, as the intersection of the course of the leading cruiser rushed like an Portuguese frigate Vasco da Gama, which had wandered into the eastern Mediterranean. And he signaled, and he signaled! ..
- What is he there? - asked the commander of "Moscow" kaprang Scherbitsky.
He took an interest in a whisper so as not to wake up the straits that were nervous during the passage, and now with relish snoring in the commanding chair of rear admiral Yevgeny Orlov.
“Requests for something,” the signalmen responded.
- “Something” is what? - cap began to boil slowly.
- We can not make out, pulling the commander.
“I scolded you a little,” the kaprang hissed, sadly glancing at the bridge in search of anyone to consult.
I did not want to awaken the commander of the fleet to death. Scherbitsky pulled his nose and came up with:
- Translator to the bridge.
- There is a translator on the bridge!
Scherbitsky looked apprehensively at the rear admiral who had been delivered in his chair and squeezed with his lips:
- Yes, you are quieter, Herod.
- There are quieter!
- There is!
Kapraz was just about to briefly, but succinctly, express his thought about the incompetence of his subordinates, when, with a cry of “I ask permission to go up to the bridge!” A translator drew himself.
- BUT? What? .. - he threw himself into the chair of the castle fleet.
Cap in mute flour raised his eyes to the ceiling and gritted his teeth.
A couple of minutes with the help of an interpreter, the Portuguese request was disassembled.
“What cargo do you have on board?” Repeated Orlov. Stupidly looked at Scherbitsky: - Are they out there that are completely fucking ?!
Since the question was clearly rhetorical, the rear admiral did not wait for an answer. However, he did not count on him. The sleepy castle fleet felt a sudden rush of adrenaline and a keen desire to die to stand up for the honor of the native flag.
- Here are freaks, huh? - The Rear Admiral, without looking around, extended his hand, into which he immediately put his binoculars.
Cunningly examining the silhouette of the Portuguese that was still looming ahead, Orlov moved from questions to the statements:
- Similarly, freaks. Survived. Sunk. You do not have time to go out to sea - any small fry already climbs to you. Right in your pocket ...
“Yes, it is,” the captain of the first rank considered it necessary, and immediately called the close admiral's attention to his person.
- Well, Alexander Vladimirovich, what will we answer to the foe?
“Uh-uh ... Comrade Rear Admiral, the Portuguese frigate is new, the team is also. Could and make a mess. Allow me to raise the "Zulu" - "Lima"?
"Moscow" - "Da Gama": "Your signal is received, but not understood."
Now thinking already on the frigate. However, after five minutes they repeated their initial request.
On the cruiser they duplicated their answer: “Your signal was received, but not understood.”
A minute later, the same "Da Gama" - all the same "Moscow": "What kind of cargo do you have on board?".
- Well, this is rudeness! - raged on the cruiser Orlov. - What do they think they are about themselves, Columbus are hells ?! Yes, I have them ... The signal to the frigate: "Let's go ...".
- Comrade Rear Admiral, let me turn? - the translator came to life, at once apprehensive about the possible consequences of the Oryol escapade.
- Well? - discontentedly grunted castle.
Being surprised at his resoluteness and eloquence, the translator (only a senior lieutenant!), In amazingly streamlined expressions, began to explain to the rear admiral that things are not being done this way. That any fool can cheat on a foreigner. But not everyone can reasonably insist on being right. What is more cultured here, abroad, is necessary. Cultural.
- Culture? —Khm ... —the rear admiral appeared like a boy, who justifies himself after the fight: “He first began.” - Cultural, you say? Well, once cultured ... Here you are, senior lieutenant, once so clever, answer: what are cultural people talking about when they have nothing to do with love, but don't want to offend each other?
“About the weather,” blurted the first translator that came to mind.
“Excellent,” grinned hard at the castle fleet. - Alexander Vladimirovich, a request for a frigate: "What is the weather in Portugal?".
- And if they refuse to answer? ..
- Then immediately send away ...
The Portuguese from the question clearly precipitated no less than the Orlov from their inquiry about the cargo of “Moscow”. Thirty minutes "Columba fuck" intensely consulted by satellite communications with Lisbon. During this time, a detachment of ships of the Black Sea Fleet managed to leave the "Vasco da Gamu" far behind the stern. Finally, half an hour later, the Portuguese contacted the Russian flagship and said: "The average temperature in the country is plus 16 Celsius."
- What to answer, Comrade Rear Admiral?
- "Keep it up!"
More Portuguese did not get in touch ...
But Yevgeny Orlov was promoted to vice admirals following the campaign that same year.