Even at school, Yulia became a mercantile bitch, she was absolutely not interested in her peers. She, as she said, is not interested in talking with them, they say, there is nothing. Although she herself, if she knocks on the head with a stick, will look around and ask: “Where is it knocking?”. She loved, you know, wandering around the clubs with a hundred rubles in her pocket, taking a taxi home. She had the same girlfriends, I remember trying to drive up to one, so she told me that a man without a car is not a man. I later remembered about it, when I arrived at the reunion of graduates in a Lexus, these were her eyes. If I found out that the Lexus is not mine, I would probably be upset.
The story, in fact, is not about her, the story is about Yulia, after school she entered medical academy, then she sort of dropped out, said she didn’t want to study for six years, so that later she could earn fifteen thousand. She went into some kind of economic sharaga. I don’t even remember where I was at that time, in my opinion, I enlisted after the army on an expedition, to the far north, it seems, is not the point.
I once met Dimka, a classmate, at the airport, and he told me a wonderful story that Yulia settled somewhere in Novosibirsk and her dream partially came true, she became a nurse in a hospital. I forgot this story literally in five minutes, I was thinking about my drilling rigs, the equipment is delicate, and the movers are drunk, no matter what happens.
I have a friend Slavik. 1964 year of release. That is, birth. And he finished at the time HVVAUL. For those who are not in the know, this is the Kharkov Higher Military Aviation School of Pilots. Produced on the MiG-21. For him characteristic appearance this device among the flyers received the persistent nickname "balalaika". Because the wing is triangular.
Autumn early 80s. All cadets help the collective farmers to harvest. Well, these Arkharovites were also harnessed to cleaning. A company of cadets arrived in the morning, listened to the task of the chairman of the collective farm: "Dig from here until dinner," and dejectedly set to digging.
And I must say that one of the flight zones was located just not far from the field of this collective farm. And a company of cadets, instead of digging, stood in dreamy-dreary poses, leaning on shovels with longing, lifting their heads, and watched how a “pair” of MiG-21s frolicked in the sky (then it was the day of flights). In the end, a brilliant decision was made ...
It happened in Moscow, at the Dzerzhinsky Academy (now Peter the Great). On a warm, dark summer night, the head of the third year, being on duty at the academy, decided to take a walk around the territory of Dzerzhinka ...
Suddenly... Chu! What kind of strange whistle is heard? Rushing towards the sound, he saw the following picture... The cadet, apparently returning from a self-propelled gun, slowly levitated upwards along the barracks wall. The orderly crazy officer crept closer and saw that the intruder was actually climbing on a rope with a crossbar tied to it (like a bungee), which was briskly drawn into the window of the fourth floor ...
What to do? There is a flagrant violation of discipline! Screaming is useless - they will only drag a colleague through the window faster. Due to the darkness and the fact that only the sirloin part of the body is exposed to observation, it is also not possible to identify the cadet ... Having reasoned that, judging by the speed of raising the fighter, the actions of his comrades-in-arms are very well coordinated, which means that the matter has been put on stream, the head of the course has taken ingenious, in his opinion, the decision - to take red-handed!
After waiting ten minutes for conspiracy, he went under the window and "loudly and clearly" reproduced the cadet's whistle. Less than a minute later, "the carriage was served." The officer, like a proud bird, sat down on the perch and pulled the rope - they say, pull ... Ascension has begun ...
Armor, tksst, is strong, and near the high banks of the Omur - Chisavye Motherland stand. And silence...
I wrote all this cleanly so as not to fill three lines of really bad swearing, after which it’s better not to smoke for an hour and at least three hours of non-pitastso. I sincerely say to you: get ready to feed someone else's army, hulks.
I have served my due year. in the Far East, ended up in the Airborne Forces. not exactly where I was going, but still good. I decided to dash off a compact report on the current army, "service through the eyes of a junior sergeant-conscript." Would it come in handy?
The main impression of the army is that it has become much softer. Everything that was told about by more mature acquaintances who seized "the very same", still the Soviet Army, can in no way be compared with the kindergarten that we have today. A bunch of incomprehensible civilian aunts, psychologists, doctors, prosecutors surround the young herds and constantly climb to the soldiers with questions like: “Is there a temperature?”, “Do they offend?”, “How are you?”. The main driving force of any normal army, zvezdyulina, now appears only quietly, half-heartedly and somehow grayishly. In my presence, two conscripts were sent to diesel for 4 months for (!) a bream (slap in the face) to a corporal who had just arrived from training when asked for failure to comply with an order. One call to a civilian mother, and any soldier or officer can have serious problems. One lawyer friend said that in such cases, evidence is not particularly important, the main thing is the statement.
The story is told in a third person, authenticity is guaranteed, since the narrator was a very serious person and also held a responsible position. The story was heard by him personally from the lips of one of the senior communications officers, who then served at the construction site of the BAM century. It happened back then in Leningrad in the early 80s.
At that time, this officer, while still a senior lieutenant, was studying at the military academy of the signal troops, where not only citizens of the Soviet Union, but also from other socialist countries of that time were trained. Of course, mostly young men studied, who spent their free time in various entertainments, and there was enough time, as well as money.
Young officers often spent their leisure time in restaurants, both ours and officers from other socialist countries. Somehow they got together an international campaign and, as usual, after taking N-th doses of alcohol, they got into an argument about drinking. The Germans began to assert that the Russians did not know how to drink vodka - and this hurt our officers very much.
In the distant stagnant years, I came to the traditional spring (autumn) check in a motorized rifle regiment, based far from civilization, the commission, in fact, to check the same glorious infantry regiment. Since the remoteness of the regiment from the leadership was significant and the garrison was not burdened with centers of culture, the pastime of the majority of officers in their free time was trivially simple. Something like in a joke: "Why are you drinking? - because it is liquid, and if it were solid, I would gnaw it!"
And here is the check. It should be noted that any check begins with a drill review of the entire military unit, even all the lame, oblique and pretending to come out in full gear, with the exception of the inner outfit.
A young wild-growing colonel - the chairman of the commission with assistants inspects the regiment's units, checking footcloths, underwear, trench tools, the contents and completeness of the soldiers' duffel bags and officers' alarm suitcases. Everything is as always - routinely and got to the crunch in the back. And here the inspector does not believe his eyes.
I was not in the army because I was a student. So, except that - in the military. A military commissar - she is a military commissar. To join the general heroism of the masses. Towards the end - when the studies were already over, but there were no diplomas yet - there were fees. In the Ensk Aviation Regiment. There are such big planes. Airbus type. For landing only. IL-76, who knows. According to the VUS, I am a navigator. Although, which of me is the navigator - one frustration. Student. But I had to.
They fed well. This was reassuring.
It was called Blue Quarantine. In the sense - for the flyers.
Outfitted. Footcloths. Boots are just right. The tunic is big.
Three sizes. Or five. Times of the German company. Almost brand new - no holes or rips. For partisans. Reminds me of the game "Zarnitsa". The pioneers had one. And I am in it - as there is a "partisan navigator." In green form. Because it's a flyer.
This absolutely incredible story was told by a familiar military surgeon. One officer served in their garrison. He drank recklessly. His wife and mother-in-law lived with him. The old mother-in-law completely got both her husband and son-in-law. Her quarrelsome character was aggravated by insanity and sclerosis.
One night, having come home drunk in a frenzy, the officer decided to put an end to the suffering of the family. Taking a hammer and a ten nail, he hammered it into the drunk mother-in-law's head with a flourish. Like, no one will know why the old woman died - let's bury and be done with it.
However, when he woke up in the morning, he saw his mother-in-law alive and unharmed, preparing breakfast in the kitchen. “Well, wow, what a real dream I had!” - the officer was dumbfounded.
Two weeks later, the mother-in-law began to complain of a headache. Well, at first, the wife gave her pills, and the mother-in-law knows that her head hurts. Went to a therapist. She measured her blood pressure, advised some medicines and let the ailing woman go in peace. But the pain didn't go away. For the second time, the therapist sent the mother-in-law to the surgeon. The surgeon examined the head and ... also did not notice anything. Because the head of the nail was covered with a crust similar to dandruff.
Summer, Batumi, Soviet army. The guys and I hid in a small workshop and quietly waited out the time between breakfast and lunch. The door opened and Dima rolled some contraption on the cart.
Dima is my fighting friend, now they are called botanists, but then they said: “Petya from the Pioneer Palace.” He knew by heart the name of all the thyristors and radio tubes, and even the receiver could make even from two rusty nails ...
In short, the smartest head, but Dima didn’t pull on a 100% botanist, his character is not botanical, because he’s a shitty “nerd” from Ossetian ...
And now he, like a black raven with a screwdriver, cut circles around a peeling green-red iron contraption. The contraption looked like an intricate car alarm horn, only the size of a refrigerator, and the nameplate said 196... a scrambled year. To the question of the public: “What kind of canoe is this ...?”, Dima explained that this was a decommissioned and deftly stolen by him emitter of infrasonic waves from a warehouse, only he needed a special generator.
A long time ago, the chief engineer of the Air Force of the Moscow Military District was a general named Mukha, intelligent, competent and respected by everyone.
At one of the debriefings, uncharacteristic (atypical) failures of aviation equipment were analyzed. One of the officers reported on a failure on the plane due to a malfunction in the air pressure receiver (APS). Having reached the reason for the failure of the PVD, the officer said:
- And the reason for the refusal turned out to be banal: a fly got into the PVD!
General Mukha, sitting in the presidium, started up, and looking at the reporting officer over his glasses, he asked with interest:
- Who-who got there?!
AB-SA-RA-KA
bloody land:
The stories of the officer's wife
Colonel Henry Carrington
DEDICATION
This story is dedicated to Lieutenant General Sherman, whose proposal was accepted in the spring of 1866 at Fort Kearny, and whose energetic policy of solving the Indian problems and quickly completing the Union Pacific to the "Sea", crushed the last hope of an armed insurrection.
Margaret Irvine Carrington.
PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION
Absaraka, indeed, became a bloody land. The tragedy, in which the army lost twelve officers and two hundred and forty-seven brave soldiers in 1876, was but the continuation of a series of skirmishes which brought about peace after the catastrophe of 1866. Now you can learn more about a country that was so dependent on the military to expand settlements and solve Indian problems.
In January 1876, General Custer told the author, "It will take another massacre of Phil Kearney for Congress to give generous support to the army." Six months later, his story, like Fetterman, has become monumental thanks to a similar catastrophe. With extensive experience on the frontier—Fetterman was a rookie—and with a belief in the ability of white soldiers to overcome overwhelming numbers of Indians, fearless, brave, and peerless horsemen, Custer believed that an army should fight hostile savages under any circumstances and at every opportunity.
Short story developments in this country is of great value to all who are interested in our relations with the Indians of the Northwest.
The map attached here was considered sufficiently detailed by Generals Custer and Brisbin. General Humphreys, chief of US engineers, pointed out additional forts and agencies on it.
The first appearance of the military in this country is accurately represented in the text. There has never been a more insane impulse of the Americans than that which forced the army into the country of the Powder and Bighorn Rivers in 1866, doing the will of irresponsible emigrants, regardless of the legal rights of the local tribes. There has never been a wilder takeover for gold than taking over the Black Hills in the face of solemn treaties.
Time brings to the surface the fruits of an unreasonable policy - the agreement of 1866 in Laramie - a simple deception, as far as it concerned all the tribes. These fruits are ripe. The fallen can attest to this. I am ready to state that at the time of the massacre, if this line had been severed, it would have required four times as many forces in the future to reopen it; since then, more than a thousand soldiers have faced a problem that was then solved by less than a hundred. The battle for the Bighorn Country was presented in one statement: “Having had a partial success, the Indian, now desperate and bitter, looked upon the reckless white man as a sacrifice, and the United States had to send an army to deal with the Indians of the northwest. It is better to incur the costs immediately than to delay and provoke a war for many years. It needs to be understood here and now.”
There is no glory in Indian warfare. If too little has been done, the West complains; if too much is done, the East condemns the massacre of the redskins. The lies of justice are between extremes, and here is represented the quality of that Indian policy which was inaugurated during the official term of President Grant. So little truth, mixed facts, and such a strong desire to be popular, pointing to the scapegoat, at the first public condemnation of the war, which lasted for six months, that, even now, public opinion learned only a few vague lessons from that massacre. Indeed, it took another tragedy to try to sort out the relationship between the Americans and the Indian tribes and solve this problem.
Henry Carrington
Journalist and writer Vasily Sarychev has been writing down the memoirs of old-timers for fifteen years, fixing the history of the western region of Belarus through their destinies. His new story, written specifically for TUT.BY, is dedicated to Soviet women, which in 1941 the Soviet government left to the mercy of fate. During the occupation, they were forced to survive, including with the help of the Germans.
Vasily Sarychev is working on a series of books "In Search of Lost Time". As the author notes, this is “the history of Europe in the mirror of a Western Belarusian city, which was told by old people who survived six authorities” ( the Russian Empire, German occupation during World War I, the period when Western Belarus was part of Poland, Soviet power, German occupation during World War II and again Soviet power).
Fundraising for the publication of a new book by Sarychev from the series “In Search of Lost Time” ends on the crowdfunding platform “Beehive”. On the page of this project, you can get acquainted with the content, study the list of gifts and participate in the publication of the book. Participants will receive a book as a gift for the New Year holidays.
TUT.BY has already published Vasily about the incredible fate common man, caught in the millstones of big politics, "polite people" from 1939 and about escaping naked from prison. New story dedicated to the wives of Soviet commanders.
When Western Belarus was annexed to the USSR, they came to our country as winners. But then, when their husbands retreated to the east with the active army, no one needed them. How did they survive under the new government?
I'm on you like in a war. Abandoned
“Let your Stalin feed you!”
Many years ago, in the sixties, there was an incident at the checkpoint of a Brest factory. The enterprise is more female, after the change of workers, an avalanche hurried home, and conflicts occurred in the crush. They did not look at faces: whether it was an editorial or a deputy, they applied it with proletarian frankness.
At the turnstile, as in a bath, everyone is equal, and the wife of the commander from the Brest Fortress, who headed the factory trade union - not yet old, twenty years had not passed since the war, having survived the occupation - was pushing on a common basis. Maybe she hit someone - with her elbow or during distribution - and the young weaver, who heard from her friends such things that they don’t write about in the newspapers, whipped backhand: “German prostitute!” - and she grabbed her breasts and croaked: “If you have small children ...”
So in one phrase - the whole truth about the war, with many shades, from which we were carefully taken away.
In conversations with people who survived the occupation, at first I could not understand when they made the remark “this is already after the war” and began to talk about the Germans. For the inhabitant of Brest, hostilities flashed in one morning, and then another power, three and a half years of deep German rear. Different categories of citizens - locals, Easterners, Poles, Jews, Ukrainians, party workers who got out from behind the wire of prisoners, commander's wives, soltyses, policemen - each had their own war. Some survived the misfortune at home, where neighbors, relatives, where the walls help. It was very bad for those whom hard times caught in a foreign land.
Before the war, they arrived in the “liberated” western region as mistresses - yesterday's girls from the Russian hinterland, who pulled out a lucky ticket (we are talking about the events of 1939, when Western Belarus was annexed to the USSR. - TUT.BY). To marry a lieutenant from a stationed regiment meant to take off in status. And here - the "liberation campaign" and in general a different world, where people, when they meet, raise the brim of their hats and turn to "pan", where in the store without an appointment there are bicycles with wonderfully curved handlebars, and private traders smoke a dozen varieties of sausages, and for a penny you can take at least five cuts on the dress ... And all these people look at them with their husband with caution - they look right ...
Nina Vasilievna Petruchik - by the way, the cousin of Fyodor Maslievich, whose fate was already in the chapter “Polite People of 1939”, recalled that autumn in the town of Volchin: “The wives of the commanders were in boots, printed cotton dresses with flowers, black velvet jackets and huge white scarves. At the market, they began to buy embroidered nightgowns and, out of ignorance, put them on instead of dresses ... "
Maybe the weather was like this - I'm talking about boots, but they are met by clothes. This is how an eleven-year-old girl saw them: very poor people came. People, chuckling, sold nightgowns, but laughter with laughter, and the newcomers became the masters of life in a year and a half before the war.
But life calculates for random happiness. It was these women, perceived with hostility, with children in their arms, with the outbreak of war, who were left alone in an alien world. From a privileged caste they suddenly turned into pariahs, thrown out of the queues with the words: “Let your Stalin feed you!”.
It was not so with everyone, but it was, and it is not for us now to judge the ways of survival that young women chose. The easiest thing was to find a guardian who would warm and feed the children, and protect them somewhere.
“Limousines with German officers drove up to the building and took away young women, the inhabitants of this house”
Photo is illustrative Vasily Prokopuk, a boy from the time of the occupation, who was snooping around the city with his friends, recalled that on the former Moskovskaya (we are talking about one of the Brest streets. - TUT.BY) one could see young women with soldiers walking in the direction of the fortress. The narrator is convinced that they did not "spat" under the arm local girls for whom it is more difficult to accept such courtship: there were parents, neighbors, in whose eyes the church grew, finally. Maybe polkas are more relaxed? - “What are you, the Poles have ambition! my respondents answered. “There was a case, a panenka was seen flirting with an occupier - the priest screwed this into his sermon ...”
"The war is walking around Russia, and we are so young ..." - three and a half years is a long time in a short Indian century. But this was not the main motive - the children, their eternally hungry eyes. The troubled boys did not delve into the subtleties, they muttered contemptuously about women from the former houses of the officers: “They found themselves ...”
“In the center of the courtyard,” writes the author, “there was a rather exotic wing in which lived a German major, our present chief, along with a beautiful young woman and her small child. We soon learned that this ex-wife Soviet officer, left to the mercy of fate in the tragic days of the Red Army in June 1941. In the corner of the barracks yard stood a three-story brick building inhabited by the abandoned families of Soviet officers. In the evenings, limousines with German officers drove up to the building and took away the young women who lived in this house.”
The situation allowed options. For example, weren't the commander's wives forcibly taken away? According to Ivan Petrovich, “it was a small barracks, converted into a residential building, with several apartments per floor. Young women lived here, mostly with small children. It is possible that even before the war it was the house of the command staff, where the families found the war: I did not see guards or any signs of forced detention.
More than once or twice, I witnessed how the Germans drove up here in the evening: our camp was across the parade ground from this house. Sometimes they dropped in on the commandant, other times straight. It was not a trip to a brothel - they were going to the ladies. They knew about the visit, smiled like good friends. Usually the Germans came in the evening, went upstairs, or the women themselves went out dressed up, and the cavaliers took them away, one might assume, to a theater or a restaurant. I didn’t have to catch the return, with whom the children were, I can’t know. But everyone in the camp knew that these were the wives of the commanders. They understood that for women it was a means of survival.”
Here's how it turned out. In the last days before the war, commanders and party workers who wanted to take their families out of the city were accused of alarmism and expelled from the party - and now women have been left for the use of Wehrmacht officers.
The son's name was Albert, the Germans came - he became Adolf
Photo is illustrative It would be wrong to say that the women left behind were looking for such support, it was just one of the ways to survive. Unpopular, stepping over the line, beyond which - gossip and piercing glances.
Women who came to Western Belarus from the east often lived in twos, threes, it was easier to survive. They went to distant (they didn’t give them to the neighbors) villages, but you can’t live on alms alone, they settled down to wash wagons, barracks, and soldiers’ dormitories. Once a German gave a large postcard to the wife of a political worker from the artillery regiment, and she hung it on the wall to decorate the room. Many years have passed since the war, and the baboons remembered the picture - they vigilantly looked at each other during the war.
The wife of the battalion commander of the rifle regiment, who stood in the fortress before the war, at the beginning of the occupation, copied her little son from Albert to Adolf, she came up with such a move, and after liberation she again made Albert. Other widows moved away from her, turned away, but for the mother this was not the main thing.
Someone will be closer to her truth, someone to the heroic Vera Khoruzha, who insisted on going to the occupied Vitebsk at the head of an underground group, leaving a baby and a little daughter in Moscow.
Life is multifaceted, and those who survived the occupation remembered different things. And a romantic-minded person who left the terrible building of the SD was clearly not after torture, and the German’s love for a Jewish girl, whom he hid to the last and went to a penal company for her, and a city plantation worker who hastily appeased a Wehrmacht soldier nearby in the park until she was shot by a client who caught a bad disease. In each case, it was different: where is the food, where is the physiology, and somewhere - a feeling, love.
Outside of service, the Germans became gallant wealthy males. Bright in her youth, the beauty N. said: at least don’t go beyond the threshold - they stuck like ticks.
Statistics will not answer how many red-haired babies were born during the war and after the expulsion of the Germans from the temporarily occupied territory, as well as with the Slavic appearance in Germany at the beginning of the 46th ... This is a delicate topic to take deeply, and we went somewhere then to the side...
Maybe in vain in general about commander's wives - there were enough restless women of all statuses and categories, and they all behaved differently. Someone tried to hide their beauty, while someone, on the contrary, turned it to good. The wife of the commander of the reconnaissance battalion Anastasia Kudinova, older, shared shelter with young partners who also lost their husbands in the fortress. All three with children - such a kindergarten-day nursery. As soon as the Germans appeared, she smeared her friends with soot and kept her away from the window. I was not afraid for myself, my friends joked, our old maid ... They pulled their mother's strap and survived without the enemy's shoulder, then they joined the fight.
They were not alone, many remained faithful, waiting for their husbands throughout the war and later. However, the opposition - arrived, local - is not entirely true. Everywhere there are cultured and not very cultured people, with principles and creeping, pure and vicious. And there are depths in any person where it is better not to look, the nature of all sorts of things mixed up, and what will manifest itself with greater force depends largely on the circumstances. It so happened that since June 22, 1941, the most destitute, stunned by these circumstances, were the “easterners”.
Another would not be missed - the reason. How did it happen that you had to flee to Smolensk and further, leaving weapons, warehouses, the entire army of personnel, and in the border areas - also wives to the delight of Wehrmacht officers?
Then there was a noble rage, the science of hatred in a journalistic performance and a real one, which increased tenfold strength in battle. This hatred helped to carry out combat missions, but in a surprising way it was not transferred to the direct culprits of many sufferings.
You probably will not argue that we, military sailors, and civilians too, are the most vulnerable part of society in terms of the safety of family relationships. Once I read about a Norwegian, the conqueror of the Arctic, I don’t remember her last name, who said an interesting phrase. Her meaning boiled down to the fact that she conquered the North, but she could never be the wife of a sailor, because not every woman will be able to withstand a long separation, nature will take its toll, well, it is impossible for a young woman to be a nun in the world. I don’t know how to love a man in order to remain faithful to him when there are a lot of hefty stallions around with peaks at the ready. But it happens that the woman remains on top, and the man is shit.
So. We had an absolutely positive lieutenant on the ship, now they are called “nerds”. Didn't smoke, didn't even drink beer, studied English language and, perhaps, knew him perfectly, in any case, I read English literature in the original, I saw it myself. On vacation with his wife, he went to camp sites, where they went hiking and climbed mountains. In general, there was not a single speck on his "image of morality."
It was on this "nerd" that our special officer had his eye. What else is needed? Like all of us, he is devoted to the cause of the CPSU and the Soviet government, but, unlike us, he does not drink, does not smoke, and has not been noticed in anything reprehensible. Hooray! And the special officer recommended him to his office as a future employee. And Vova-botan gathered for knowledge in the city of Novosibirsk, because neophytes were attached to the great caste there. But, before changing career guidance, he went on another vacation, as usual, to a camp site. With my wife.
After taking a vacation and gaining the necessary amount of health, the family was gathering to a new duty station. Vova says to his wife: “Darling, come immediately to Novosibirsk, and I will send the container from home myself. It makes no sense for two of us to drag ourselves to the Far East, but go to Novosibirsk.” The wife said, “That makes sense. I listen and obey".
But it is not in vain that they say that in a still pool, you yourself know who is found. Once Vova, being a cadet of the first or second year of the naval bursa, met with one girl, and she simply threw him away when a fifth-year student loomed on the horizon. Also reasonable. It’s not for me to tell you - why the hell is she a first-second-year jerk, who needs to be brought up and courted for a few more years, and here is a ready-made lieutenant with a salary, like a miner with experience! And the new family left for the Far East.
Vova married a very interesting girl, they had a daughter. According to the distribution, Vova ended up in the same place where the woman who threw him had lived for several years. With family, of course. Our small town, they could not meet. In general, feelings flared up again, and from feelings, people can do a lot of stupid things. In short: “If you drown, or stick to p ... stick, it’s difficult at first, and then you get used to it.” Vova stuck and got used to it.
The fornicators decided that they would go to Novosibirsk together, and he would introduce her as his wife, and then, you see, everything would settle down. The husband of Vova's passion was in military service. There were children, she had two of them. But then the wives of officers always helped each other out. And this time the woman came to her friend and asked her to look after the children, she would be away for a day or two. There was nothing unusual about the request, and the friend agreed. In general, the wife runs away with a passing lieutenant, as in sentimental novels. The children stayed with a neighbor. The mother was not going to return. Why she did this is still a mystery. And Vova, you know, stuck to the female genital organ and therefore did not understand anything.
But he was a noble man and a great fool. Before leaving, he writes a letter to his lawful wife. The same as in sentimental novels: they say, I'm sorry, all my life I loved only her, and he married you out of hopelessness and despair. It is at least unpleasant for any woman to hear this, and Vova’s wife was a woman who was not only outwardly interesting, but, unlike his passion, she had something in her head. She did not tear up the letter received from her lawful husband in annoyance, as a less intelligent woman would have done, but carefully preserved it. And immediately returned to the place of residence. There she appeared in a special department and, presenting a letter, caught up with a rustle: “How did Felix Edmundovich teach you? Clean hands!!! The man left his family and went with a whore to your holy of holies!!! How did you let this happen?!"
To the honor of the special officers, they reacted promptly and adequately. We were not afraid to sully the honor of the uniform. Although the order to enroll Vova in their camp was signed by the biggest boss, nevertheless, in a matter of days it was canceled, and Vova was expelled for low moral qualities. He returned to the ship, but there was already another person on his staff. Therefore, Vova was accepted back, but taken out of the state, that is, he received money only for his small rank. He was expelled from the party for the same moral qualities. At a party meeting, his uterus was twisted masterfully and completely, and this story became public, because only our party organs and Catholic inquisitors could twist the insides of a person with such pleasure and put them on public display. Or am I wrong?
A neighbor, after sitting with the children for several days, raised the alarm. The husband was pulled from a ship in the Indian Ocean and rushed to his place of residence. Other relatives were also called ... In general, the family united again. The lady returned to her husband. Who would dare to throw a stone at her? He accepted it. And now they live, but I don’t know if they are happy.
And Vova was settled in my cabin, and after a while we began to communicate, but we didn’t touch on past events at all. He is closed, and I do not like to climb into a person’s soul. And only once Vova asked:
“Do you think if I try to return to my family, I will succeed?”
- I do not know. I said honestly. - Women tend to forgive, you should at least try.
Vova did nothing. Subsequently, he went to another ship, but, in my opinion, he rose to the rank only to a drop *. His wife lived alone, according to neighbors and friends, she did not meet with anyone, and after two or three years she left for her homeland with her daughter.
* lieutenant commander (captain)
Reviews
Anything happens.
I had a friend - a marine officer somewhere near Vladik.
You know yourself - marines on large ships, dowries. They went on a campaign, six months later he returns - there is a note on the table, his wife is gone.
Married for the second time. After the next campaign - the same picture.
He never married again.
Grigory, this is not only among sailors.
Here is a typical episode for you.
Grozny. Second Chechen. Call center at Severny airport. Just opened, two booths, satellite connection, expensive. There is a crowd on the porch, there is just no one: special forces, riot police, SOBR, intelligence ... Chatting, flasks in a circle, smoke in a column.
One of the officers called home.
- Hello! Hello! Are you son?
Call Mom!
- There is no mother. And who are you?
- Like who? I am your dad!
- Nope. Dad is washing in the bathroom.
And you are an uncle.
I don't know with what heart he came home.
about
Here it is, woman's happiness…
Registration number 0089599 issued for the work:
A young, beautiful, young wife of an officer, she had just graduated from the Pedagogical Institute, I was barely twenty-two years old. We came to the border, to my husband's unit. Around the forest, nature is generous and beautiful, "the air is clean and fresh, like a kiss of a child," but the wilderness is terrible! I’ll go to teach at the garrison school, I’ll definitely find a place for myself, otherwise I’ll die of longing! My husband is a rather nice, kind and reliable person. Several soft-bodied, girlfriends called him "mattress", but I wanted to spit on their characteristics - I will live my life behind him, like behind a stone wall. You look, he will also become a general!
The first day in the garrison began stormily and well. We were received warmly and cordially. As I remember now: preparations are underway for the holiday, and we, having thrown our things into the room allotted to us in the officer's house, are happy to join in the fun commotion. Among the new comrades there is one young officer, he immediately catches the eye: young, but already weighed down by life experience, tall, handsome brunette with breathtaking blue eyes. Rare combination! He also looks at me furtively, but very often, I stumble upon his eyes all the time. In huge aquamarine eyes - admiration and poorly hidden passion. We don't say a word to each other, he laughs a lot, tells jokes and seems agitated for no reason.
I am suddenly seized with an incomprehensible excitement. Finally, everyone sits down at the table, there are a lot of people, it's fun. A strange married couple is present at the celebration: a highly experienced general and his flirtatious young wife, who frivolously shoots her eyes, as if in a shooting range, at all the abundance of local young officers. Looks like I'm tired of my gray-haired husband! They are guests of honor. Zd about right! Music, youth! Maybe it's not as boring here as I thought? "All the same, I'll try the position of a teacher!" - vouched for herself.
Dances begin, and my husband is suddenly invited by a young general's wife. Why, out of all the variety of young interesting men, she chose him, it still remains a mystery. The brunette officer immediately comes up to me and silently drops his head on his chest. Modestly lowering my eyes, I go with him, and the heart begins to dance the Charleston. We are having this conversation.
HE: "Maybe let's go straight to" you "?"
I (coquettishly): "Yes, we didn't seem to drink brotherhood..."
HE (smiling): "The hint is clear."
We are very close, his hot hand trembling slightly on my waist.
HE: "Let's meet! Can you come when your husband is asleep? I'll wait at least until morning at the very place where the two rivers meet."
I know a place with that name. It was shown to me and my husband as the only garrison attraction.
I: "Good! - I remember myself. - However, no! Why do I have to run at your first call?"
HE: "You see, life is fleeting. You can't waste time on all sorts of nonsense if you are convinced of the correctness of the decision, as I am now!"
There is a hint of a dangerous service in his words, and I feel that he does not draw at all, he simply explains the reason for his intemperance.
I: "For such frivolity, very good reasons are needed, agree!"
HE: "Yes, of course! I really liked you, moreover, I'm in love with you, in love to hell ... I immediately understood, as soon as I saw you! Do you think that love at first sight is a good enough reason?"
Me: "I don't know... For an experienced heartthrob like you, a new officer's wife is a tasty morsel... for one night. I don't want that!"
HE: "A very bad hint, Katyusha, but perhaps fair. Still, believe me, believe at your own peril and risk, I have something to compare with! Your face, and smile, and the slight tenderness of words ... Everything is in you "life, it's hard for me to explain... "Tidbit" - it's not about you, rather, about the general's wife. And you are the only woman I need, behind your eyelashes is a mystery! But for now I can only offer a date against the backdrop of a raging water, while only night under the stars. The day will come, and I will conquer you, turn your head, take you away from your husband! You are mine and no one else, and you will not stay with this good guy, just know it!"
Me (trembling): "You're romantic..."
HE: "In relation to you - yes ... So you will come?"
His whisper is trembling, his breath is hot. The officer's mouth almost touches my ear, causing it to ignite and become purple and hot. I can hardly restrain myself so as not to wrap my arms around his neck and press my plump, Marilyn Monroe-like lips against the harsh, hard line of the handsome man's lips.
All evening the officer does not take his eyes off me, does not dance with anyone else, watching me clumsily waltz with my tipsy husband. Before leaving quietly whispers: "I'm waiting for you, Katyusha!" I know his name - Yuri Petrov, and he is single. However, I don’t care, even if it’s one night, but mine, and there, at least twenty years of longing - everything is one! A tickling excitement takes over my being, I'm shaking like I'm in a fever. There is no doubt - in love! I thought I would never lose my head! That's hot!
My husband and I come home and he begins to awkwardly harass me. The husband is pretty drunk, breathing live vodka in his face. I weakly return his caresses, trying not to arouse suspicion, but he falls asleep right on top of me without doing anything. I carefully roll the softened guy onto my back, wait another ten minutes. I leave the house, I’m wearing a summer dress, a blouse on top, my hair is loose and disheveled from a light breeze, wet grass lashes my legs. I quickly run across the field to the river. Here it is, the very place where two streams meet, flowing in different directions, but towards each other. The shaken water forms a turbulent funnel here, directly over which a bridge is built. Watching the whirlpool from above is both enticing and creepy.
The officer is waiting on the bridge, in his hands is a bottle of champagne (we didn’t drink at brotherhood) and a bouquet of wildflowers. I approach slowly, we look into each other's eyes, converge, and he hugs me. His strengths beautiful hands busy, but the whole body strives to meet me ... No one has ever so silently and eloquently made me understand about his thirst, no one has ever seduced so fiercely and frankly! I melt, lose control of myself, and flowers and champagne fly into the depths of the waters; a man picks me up in his arms and carries me to the other side. There, in a haystack, under the starry sky, we spend the first night of love. Fly all to hell! His kisses are crazy, his dives are amazing, his hot confessions are mesmerizing! I rush about, as if in agony, whispering crazy words, laughing and crying at the same time... Let the morning never come!!!
I come home at dawn, shocked, tired, exhausted, and under the drunken snoring of my husband, I cry bitterly to the point of complete dumbness. I can’t believe: HE loved me, possessed me, I don’t want to believe: this will not happen again in my life !!! I fall asleep, sobbing ... The morning wakes up with sunlight and a knock on the door. My husband, groaning from drinking, goes to unlock it, but I don’t want to open my eyes, I don’t want to lose the last remnants of happiness.
"Katyusha, pack your things, I'm behind you!" - suddenly I hear a painfully native voice. He, Petrov Yuri! Beside myself, I jump up, muttering: "Yes, yes, yes!" With a groan, I throw myself on his neck.
“I decided not to wait for an opportunity, not to look for prudent solutions, not to lie! I don’t want you to live a day without me!” my lover exclaims and interrupts himself anxiously: “My girl, will you marry me?”
" Yes Yes Yes!" - I keep repeating like a clockwork. I collect things under the bewildered gaze of the one who yesterday was considered my husband. But I know who my real betrothed is!
Reprimand, condemnation, accusations of immorality, human gossip, Yuri and I endured and survived without staggering. The ex-husband began to drink with grief. Under New Year when my beloved returned from a business trip, he again took me to our place. We threw a bottle of champagne into the whirlpool, taking a sip. Carefully wrapping my hips in a sheepskin coat, Yuri took possession of me right on the bridge, and we conceived our boys, Volodya and Yaroslav. He said then: "How not to freeze these seething waters, so our love with you will never dry up, my Katyusha!" Yuri was again expelled from the unit to a closed garrison, lost in the deep taiga. By sending him, the regimental authorities hoped to reconcile me with my husband. But I knew who my real and only husband was!
She continued to live in the room of officer Petrov, teach at a local school (she achieved her goal) and burn with love. It's time to go on maternity leave, and we finally got permission to marry. The attempt to separate us, prevent "immorality" and "preserve the cell of society" failed miserably. Only when my navel climbed over my nose did the commanders understand: everything is serious with us! Yura was hastily returned from a long business trip, fearing that I would not give birth to a straw widow. They say that the same aforementioned general said the decisive word in our defense, probably, he also came forward, risking marrying his young bird.
I had not seen Petrov for five months, and when he returned, I hardly recognized him. A thick scar cut through his native face, and his hair turned completely gray! But his hardened appearance did not become less beautiful. How I loved him then! Yuri said that he turned gray from longing for me and our child, but I did not believe him. Snow in her hair - it still didn’t go anywhere, but the scar ... I cried all night.
Soon we had twins, Vovka and Slavik. The event was solemnly celebrated by the whole unit. Even ex-husband forgave me and brought gifts for the boys.
Garrisons, far and near. Borders, northern and southern. Service and teaching. Children and friends-colleagues. This is our life in a nutshell. Sometimes it was not easy, but I do not regret a minute, not a second! Yuri and I still yearn for that beautiful place, the confluence of two rivers, it leads us through life ... A whirlpool where water boils and foams, a bridge and a haystack on the opposite bank ... A dream come true, a fairy tale in reality!
Our boys are completely different, like the two streams over which we conceived them. And yet, Vladimir and Yaroslav, although they are swimming in opposite directions, but towards each other. I believe that someday life will reconcile them. They have a difficult relationship, different characters and passions, but the beginning is the same - a bridge over stormy waters!
A few years later, a new entry appears in the diary: "We have not wandered around the garrisons for a long time, we settled in N in her husband's home country. The boys have become quite adults, they are looking for their own paths in life! And Yuri and I still love each other, we all also dream of breaking out there, to our place. Look at the whirlpool, remember yourself young and in love. Maybe then our young happiness will return again ... "
An ellipsis, a charming reticence, an illogical hope... There is not another word in the diary. Apparently, since then she had nothing to write. Everything is here, love and life.
Here it is, female happiness ...
