"Mikhail Evstafiev. Two Steps From Heaven " - читать интересную книгу автораDRA, observe all customary Soviet moral values, manners and laws, show
tolerance of the customs and mores of the Afghans. Write it down! Write it down!!! Always be friendly, humane fair and honorable in your dealings with the workers of Afghanistan." The men wrote laboriously, with numerous spelling mistakes, missing out entire sentences. The "grandpas" only pretended to write. "Chirikov, I want all that in my notebook by tomorrow morning," said PFC Prokhorov, busily ruling up a sheet of paper to play "Battleships." "Don't write just yet! I'll tell you when to write! You all have to be able to give specific examples to illustrate the honorable behavior of Soviet soldiers towards the local population. Who can name a few examples? Nobody! Wonderful! You should read the newspapers. Why do we keep files of them in this room? So that brainless idiots like you should read them, that's why! Everyone's got to know at least two examples for next time. I'll be testing you!" "He who eats meat, suffers frequent colds," pronounced warrant officer Pashkov with a sly look in Sharagin's direction. "If a man eats meat, then something starts to stir during the night, rises up and lifts the blanket, bares his legs, and all the time the air conditioner is pumping out cold air - that's where colds come from." Sharagin laughed good-naturedly. Senior Lieutenant Chistyakov grabbed a parachute canopy out of the cupboard in the officers' room and shoved it into a bag. He had taken to warming himself in the sun at this time of day behind the huts, well out of "Line up!" hollered the soldier on duty, for all the world like a village rooster. "Listen up, rooster face!" Chistyakov dragged the soldier off his stool and clamped a hand around his throat: "Why are you yelling in my ear?! I'm enjoying my well-earned rest. Got that? Don't bother me with trifles. Anything important happens, lieutenant Sharagin will know where to find me." Chapter Two. Disease With the coming of the hot weather, the company was hit by diarrhea, everyone running to the can day and night. The path leading from the camp to the latrines was trodden hard as asphalt. Every half hour or less, someone would race from the command barracks to the latrine like a bat out of hell. The rookies, more seasoned soldiers and the grandpas were reduced to a common level by their plight as they sat side by side in the latrine. There were not enough newspapers. The bound volume of "Red Star" disappeared from the Lenin Room. Nemilov was furious, branding the unknown thieves saboteurs, threatened an investigation by the Third Section but removed the bound volume of "Pravda" just in case. The Political Officer was known for his fastidiousness, washed his hands about seventeen and a half |
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