Do you really know I am after a good Russian?  language. A.P. Platonov is my god here. "Organism, get up!" And all this, with diligence dressed. Dovlatovskoe "Toes and ears of the head."

     In my life I met with amazing masters of the Russian language. I will try to describe these miracles here. The great Russian poet Igor Levitsky lives somewhere at the top. Here is a little bit of it:


"The twenty-fifth

We will receive a commission

The power to check the bathroom

Pissing with the whole staff "

     To my literary misfortune, Igor's work contains, according to his expression, "one motherfucker", but what's funny is funny. Well, here's another,  For example:

"Look under the dresser,

There is a bear to a bee ##.

Well, the bee "Zhu-zhu-zhu!"

I will give birth to a bear cub! "


"Chu! I can hear wonderful chirping.

This is a birdie, a birdie e ## t.

But not a bird, but a bird

and not e ## t, but ## eot! "

      I admire the speed and efficiency of his reaction to the utmost.

    Captain Zhidkikh taught at the military department of the Moscow Institute of Steel and Alloys, where we were taught tankism-artillery. It would seem ... But Igor saw the deepest truth in this. Laughing, he told us: "Guys, I just realized that the captains are Liquid, Solid and Gaseous!"

     In the Soviet army, I had the pleasure of being in contact with another Great One. It was Kostya Melnikov. His speech consisted of sayings, verses  and such intricate combinations of words that only the nightingale trills on May nights could compare with them. And everything is obscene. "I got up in the morning - such a weakness, you can't bend your x ## hands." He was quoted by the whole regiment. He had a friend in the hospital, a cripple doctor, a veterinarian by training, Captain Vasitsyn, whom Kostya called Horse Doctor Watson. Unfortunately, I can't share all of his belles-lettres. No way, obscene beyond measure. Alas..

     But the commander of our company was completely devoid of a sense of humor. Well, or he had it somewhat different. He certainly had a bone of war in a certain place, and he devoted himself completely to service, spending the day and night in the barracks. After graduating from college, he got married at the first one that came across, having learned that for married people lifting at the new duty station would be 2 times higher. Therefore, he was in no hurry to go home. He also tried to diversify his messages to the world and his subordinates with all sorts of clever words. He apparently really liked the word "vacuum", and he even knew that for some reason there were two identical vowels side by side. But in his performance it sounded like "vaakum". I had nothing to argue with him. To the question "Tell me, how is it correct?" Shchekaturka or Shchikaturka "had to answer" Surely SHE, trischstarshleitnant! " “Yes, I know it myself,” he replied condescendingly in a commanding manner, agreeing with me - a junior in rank, and in all other human qualities, which were much inferior to him.

     The deputy of our company, Seryoga, a selfless successor and admirer of Kostya, also gave me a wonderful phrase. Here is how it was. Once a whole lieutenant general came to the division to check the service. And all the officers in front of him had to lead the tank along the track of the tankodrome.

     When it was my turn, I, having received the command, jumped into the tank and rushed off. Having made a circle, I stopped abruptly and began to crawl out of  hatch. A soldier ran up, shouting something to me and waving all his hands. As it turned out, the tank on which I was racing caught fire. Black smoke and flames poured out of the transmission (this is where the engine is located). The fuss of firefighting began. I didn't know how to help me and just got in the way of the soldiers under their feet.

     And all this is under the watchful eye  checking commander and other divisional and regimental commanders.

    "Officer - to me!" - I heard. From somewhere with  heavens, mixing with the roar of tank engines sounded Bach's "I appear before you." And I appeared before the general ...  

    - Prepare money for a new engine, comrade lieutenant !!!  the general hissed loudly.

    I clearly understood that this was the end of my unfit life. That I will not be able to pay for the damage done to the combat power of the Motherland  NEVER. With a wooden gait, I wandered off into a dull, dark distance. But I was picked up by the deputy head Seryoga. He started up behind a dying tank and said: “Don’t ssy, Vova! And they didn’t do such things! ” A couple more days  I was disassembled. But then, for a bottle, precious in those days of Prohibition, the tank was repaired in a neighboring company and became better than before. Not so long ago, Seryoga, a friend of the heart, called me. It was nice to hear him ...

     I'll return to MISiS. To the unforgettable military department. There was a lesson on the materiel of the tank. In the middle of the empty classroom, there was a tank cannon mounted on a sort of box, resembling a swing on a playground. The teacher Colonel Chirskaya, practically a copy of Vysotsky, and in a voice so simply one to one, walked around  guns, wearily tapping the pointer on different parts of it, explained to us what, where, how and why there is in this 125-mm fool about 7 meters long. Approaching the breech of the cannon (this is the opposite of the muzzle), the colonel ordered me: "Comrade student, lower the cannon."

     "Well, okay, now, business," -  I thought.  Approaching the cannon from behind, I grabbed the shutter mechanism fence made of about a centimeter iron with both hands, paused for a picture, like a weightlifter before a jerk. And he began lifting, that is, lowering the trunk. This stuff didn't budge.

     The guy I was then strong, muscle pleasure was familiar and pleasant to me. "Well, wait a minute, right now I will .."  The next attempt was already serious. I rested, tensed, pulled, tore - not from the place ... "This is disgusting, why am I so, now, now, one more time .."

     The Colonel waited patiently, watching my athletics, changing his head tilt and shaking his pointer slightly. Finally he said: “Comrade student, are you idiot? There is also a handle, you twist it. "

     Here are a few more pearls from the same place: "Comrade student, while you were getting out of the tank, I could teach this to two half-monkeys." "So. Writing down the signs of tularemia. Acute headache in muscles and bones. "


     I leave the topic open, I will add what I remember. ))

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