"Mikhail Evstafiev. Two Steps From Heaven " - читать интересную книгу автора

through every crack, every hole. People spat, rubbed their eyes and noses,
but the sand filled their hair and crept down their backs. The wind carried
a hidden premonition of disaster.
Toward evening the "afghan" finally tired of making mischief, and took
itself off. It had not exhausted itself, no, that was not why the wind died
down. Most likely it got bored with this place, and sped off to wreak havoc
and bother people elsewhere, after a few parting sand whirls.
It was completely quiet again, cold and distant stars filled the sky,
but in the morning torture by the sun resumed. The soldiers, usually so
talkative and noisy, were silent.
Sharagin inspected the positions once more. Two soldiers snored in the
shade of a canvas awning. One of them - Savateyev - was swiping at a fly
on his face in his sleep, frowning and scratching his cheeks. When his hand
brushed against the top of his head, the lice he dislodged leapt nimbly to
the head of the soldier sleeping next to him.

... I'll order their heads shaved, every last one of them!...

Sharagin saw junior sergeant Titov wandering around clad in nothing but
a pair of sateen drawers, rolled up to look like bathing trunks, absently
scratching his crotch. Sergeant Panasyuk, his face sunburnt a fiery red,
sprawled on a greatcoat on the ground. Nearby, private Sychev, in correct
uniform, was squeezing festering pimples on the back of a "grand-dad" of the
Soviet Army, Prokhorov.

... disgusting ...

By certain unwritten laws, only the so-called grand-dads had the right
to go around undressed. In principle, the grand-dads were not supposed to do
so either, but any officer in his right mind turned a blind eye to such
liberties, provided they remained within reason. The grand-dads knew what
they were about, they knew that they could allow themselves a measure of
insolence with any commanding officer, and if they did not go too far, if
they did not overdo things, no conflict would ensue. One only needed to know
exactly where to draw the line. Sharagin glanced sideways at Panasyuk, Titov
and Prokhorov, all in their satin underwear, threw a second glance on his
way to relieve himself, and when he passed by a third time, the grand-dads
were all getting dressed. They took the squad leader's hint. Once dressed,
they went off to harry the younger personnel, because there was nothing else
to do that day.
It did not take long for Panasyuk to adopt some of the squad leader's
mannerisms and expressions. Aping Sharagin, he took to addressing the lower
ranks with the polite "you" instead of the familiar "thou," but with an air
of paternal superiority; at combat training he would urge them on with one
of the new commanding officer's aphorisms: "At first, a soldier marches as
long as he can, and after that, as long as necessary." Panasyuk's
stubbornness and persistence earned him the nickname of "the mountain brake
of communism." Combat vehicles of the commando forces are all equipped with
a so-called mountain brake with a catch. Once this is engaged, the motor
will continue to roar and strain, but the vehicle will not budge an inch. It