...Three, two, one - twenty-seventh! It would seem like one day, no, even a night - chalk

...Three, two, one - twenty-seventh! It would seem that one day, no, even a night is some kind of trifle, but how much changes in a short night - on September 27 you wake up as a different person: no longer “young”, now you are a “scoop”! From this day on, life in the barracks and beyond will change significantly; frankly, it will become easier. Your service life has passed the halfway point, you have passed the peak and started going down the hill. Of course, all this is still only on paper. On the newspaper. Order of the Minister of Defense. No one has been transferred to the reserves yet, all the “grandfathers” are in place, here, next to you, in the barracks. But the air became different, there was more of it. Because in three weeks, or four, or even five or six, it doesn’t matter, they will start leaving, freeing up space for you and transferring privileges to those who are only six months older than you in conscription. With them you serve in one barracks longer than all the others and they perceive you almost as equals.

Almost. One way or another, no one will beat you anymore. No, of course, there will be conflicts, attempts to ride on you will not go away, the struggle for a place in the sun, showdowns, fights will continue, but now they will stop beating you just because you are a greenhorn. To humiliate others, to force them to do what they do not want, will now be partly allowed to you. This will become even more noticeable when the old-timers are replaced by young recruits.

The procedure for being admitted to the “scoops” is noticeably less painful than the one you went through six months ago—twelve times in the same place, but no longer with a soldier’s belt badge, but with a scoop, and more for appearance than for pain. And after that, that’s all - a new stage in your service begins. You can sometimes allow yourself to unfasten the hook on your collar and certainly feel free to iron your hat into a brick.

But there is a flip side to all this. It consists of a sharp slowdown in the pace of service. For the simple reason that the workload is reduced and free time becomes much greater. In addition, during the year of service, the soldier became much stronger, strengthened physically and morally, a strict daily routine and mandatory exercises in the morning make him hardened, physically strong, most tasks become familiar to him, which means he completes them faster and easier. This is where boredom is born, which for some results in unjustified aggression, naturally directed towards salabons, or into some other, not necessarily decent, entertainment; for others it becomes a kind of inspiration - they come up with demobilization albums, write poems or even songs. Any news, any change in the boring routine becomes almost a sensation.

“Lazha is being transferred to the fourth company,” said Semyagin, not hiding his delight.

“So what,” Kalendeev responded indifferently, “they’ll send some other “crap.”

Captain Lipsky was sent to replace Captain Lozhenko. His characteristics looked menacing: he served in Afghanistan, in combat, wears the bars of the Order of the Golden Star and the medal “For Courage” on his jacket, was shell-shocked and for this reason was decommissioned to a construction battalion; completely crazy, as they say, with a bullet in his head and knows the Charter by heart. He chases everyone indiscriminately - both young people and old people.

- Clear! In short, the character is Nordic,” Vanya Kabanov summed it up after hearing the information from the new commander.

Lipsky fully met expectations. Short in stature, thin, one might even say slender, in a perfectly fitted overcoat, with shoulder straps that were not broken like others, and polished, well-fitting boots, the captain impressed his subordinates, who were watching him with great curiosity, with his magnificent marching step.

“He’s talking like an adult,” they appreciated.

He walked really well. With dedication, springily, without sparing the boots. His bearing and his genuinely raised chin showed him to be an excellent combat soldier. Such a person, of course, will not let himself go, but there will be no peace for everyone around him. And the latter, as you know, is a very sensitive matter for a soldier and therefore sensitive.

An additional touch to the portrait was the captain's voice. Thin and nasal, it in itself already caused anxiety, not to say panic. “Come here, soldier!” – in these three flat words, pronounced in a drawn-out manner, with an emphasis on the flattened “i,” Lipsky managed to convey a meaning that was understandable to everyone who heard his command: my invitation does not bode well.

The captain, as they said about him, lived according to the Rules: when meeting on the parade ground, even with a private, he, as expected, took a marching step and saluted. Based on the same Charter, he was incomparably able to blow his mind.

In addition, it turned out that the officer was also single. This meant nothing else but that he would never, for any reason, rush home. The barracks is his apartment. Order in her means comfort in his home. The commander began to shine immediately as soon as he took over from his predecessor, about which, with his characteristic modesty, he was not slow to inform his superiors: “In a couple of months, the third company will forever take first place in the battalion. By all indicators."

Not very inspired by such ardor, Major Shipilov summoned the new guy to his place.

– Comrade captain, do you know that the Ministry of Defense is actively fighting hazing?

- I know, Comrade Major. But what does this have to do with me?

– Well, here are your promises: “By all indicators...”, “It will take forever...” By what methods are you going to achieve these indicators?

- No special methods, Comrade Major. None! Exclusively according to the Charter. Did the soldiers take an oath? They did. What is written there? “Standfastly endure all the hardships and deprivations of military service.” These are not empty words. I believe that we, commanders, are obliged to provide the soldiers with these very “hardships and deprivations.”

– Everything is within the framework of the Charter, Comrade Captain!

- That’s the only way, but how could it be!

– By the way, not all of them took the oath. Are you aware that there is a dysfunctional soldier serving in your company?

- What do you mean, dysfunctional?

- Refused the oath. Baptist.

- Oh, are there any more of these? What is a Baptist? Does he believe in God, or what? Nothing! He will take the oath from me. Will accept it quickly.

– But everything is only within the framework of the Charter, only according to the Charter!

– Exceptionally, Comrade Major, exceptionally!..

“Private Sh., to the office!” – Sergei heard the orderly’s command as soon as Lipsky returned from the political officer.

- May I allow you, Comrade Captain? - The private knocked and entered the office.

Without answering the question, without saying a word, Lipsky fixed Seryozha with a prickly gaze. Two pairs of eyes met in a silent duel. The soldier looked at the officer calmly. Not because he was fearless. No. Most likely due to the fact that Seryozha grew up in conditions that did not instill in him a sense of danger. Fights in the schoolyard, in which he never participated, but which he witnessed, the sight of dried blood on his lips, a torn ear, a broken eyebrow - this, perhaps, was all that could be written down in the list of images of violence he experienced in his childhood.

The first months of service significantly enriched the experience. That is, he, of course, knew and partially experienced the methods by which the will is broken. I remembered how at the beginning of the service I did a hundred push-ups before lights out, and had to sit down the same number of times. I didn’t forget how he walked in single file until his legs became stiff, how they tried to force him to wash other people’s footcloths and clean other people’s boots. All this could be achieved only with the help of fear, using a person’s natural reluctance to endure pain.

That's why they beat me. They beat me so that no traces were left. Someone's kidneys were broken, someone's fingers were broken, pinched between the door and the jamb, stools were broken into splinters on their heads, tools were used at a construction site, “there is no trick against scrap,” plaques and belts were always at hand. Pain and a sense of fear were used unlimitedly in achieving one single goal - to break a person’s will.

Sergei believed that reasonable people will always be able to come to an agreement. But how do you talk to a person who doesn’t control himself? An advantage, although dubious - a slightly longer service life - multiplied by aggression, and all this with a partial or complete lack of desire to conduct a reasonable dialogue, initially puts the victim in an absolutely losing position, making him helpless.

And yet, the absence of a precedent that would be fixed in memory with negative emotions, memories of the pain suffered, that would cause a natural reaction to the prospect of a relapse, gave Serezha an undeserved, perhaps undeserved, feeling of fearlessness and freedom. Naivety? Yes. Vulnerability? Certainly. But all this did not change the fact: Seryozha looked at the commander calmly.

Lipsky, in contrast to him, has seen a lot more. Although he was some seven or eight years older. Of course, there was no such madhouse as in the construction battalion, in the combat troops, they could easily be expelled from the school for a fight. Of course, this did not mean at all that the cadets did not humiliate, torture, or intimidate each other, wanting to subjugate themselves. Anything has happened. But the main thing in which Lipsky outweighed was, of course, Afghan.

The captain remembered very well what horror looks like in the eyes of courageous, strong people, he knew what it meant to be in real danger, and more than once felt the proximity of death. And now, looking into Seryozha’s eyes, he thought: how to take this infantile greenhorn? What has he seen in his life? He does not know the feeling of fear. And it’s not surprising, because he wasn’t in any serious trouble - he’s a chicken, a suckling puppy, you can’t scare him with a glance. It is impossible to shoot a pigeon from a tank cannon. The fight was thus broken down. Lipsky involuntarily grinned, the corners of his mouth drooping slightly; waited a little longer and, completely calming down, asked:

- What, comrade soldier, weren’t you taught how to enter the office?

- We taught you, comrade captain. But I, it seems, entered as taught.

- Like? Hmm... Well, try again. Leave and enter as required.

Sergei left, entered again, asking permission and reporting, as expected: “According to your orders...” And again, wrong. The procedure was repeated several times.

“I see, soldier,” the company commander began to get excited, “you don’t know the basic articles of the Charter.” Go and study the article “The duties of a soldier before formation and in the ranks,” and then you can come and tell me.

- So now is personal time, Comrade Captain. I need to get myself in order.

– Do you think these are my problems? Do as ordered!

The required chapter of the Charter was quickly updated in memory, Seryozha taught it in quarantine, it didn’t take long to remember. The captain was in no hurry to get home, drank tea, peered at the petite newspaper articles, sometimes looked back at the window when another tram rumbled beneath him, or thought about something of his own, glancing with a detached gaze at the official disorder of the office left by his predecessor.

Sergei learned the required chapter by heart. I knocked again on the office and stamped it as expected. The captain hardly heard him. I couldn’t tear myself away from my thoughts, or maybe I was pretending to. Then he slowly and somewhat detachedly asked:

- It’s you, soldier, who didn’t take the oath, right?

- That's right, Comrade Captain! – Seryozha answered habitually.

“Probably no one has really taken care of you.”

– It’s difficult for me to judge, but, in my opinion, they really did.

“It was a bad job,” the company commander said, still thoughtfully, without raising his voice, twirling a pencil on the table with his fingers. From the outside it seemed that the pencil occupied him more than the soldier. – By the way, what kind of faith do you have? Who in our time, in general, believes in God?

– People tend to reduce the meaning of faith to a simple recognition of the existence of God, but faith is a deeper concept.

– Oh, so you’re also a philosopher! – the captain smiled his signature smile and became more poised and perked up. – And if not “reduce”, then what does it mean?

– True faith changes life. It is not just a recognition that God exists somewhere, lives somewhere. The Bible says that demons also believe and tremble. Faith is life in God, complete trust in Him, lifestyle, priorities, actions, everything you live by.

- Great! So we’ll take a look at your changed life. Let's take a closer look... Keep in mind, soldier, from this day on I will watch you day and night, I will use any measures to force you to take the oath: punish, persecute, cling to every little thing, humiliate, ostracize. If it doesn't help, you'll rot in your outfits or on your lip. Understood?

- That's right!

- How long did you serve, by the way?

- Year.

- “Scoop”, that is. Great! Everything is still ahead of you. Free. Bye…

Outfitting, even out of order, will be remembered as a slight misunderstanding after you wear your outfit around the kitchen. Every soldier knows this. In fact, the kitchen procedures are carried out by the soldiers assigned to her. They “play disco” all day long, with plates instead of discs, sliding their boots on the greasy floor and wiping no less greasy pots with no less greasy hands. But sometimes they need to rest - do laundry, write a letter, and finally go on leave. On such days, those who serve in the company are assigned to the dining room.

Lipsky kept his word. To begin with, I sent Sergei to the kitchen task.

The outfit lasts a day and begins long before getting up. When the soldiers arrive for breakfast, everything in the dining room should be ready: bread and butter cut, plates and mugs, pots set, all this replaced for the next, freshly washed batch prepared. The dining room can only accommodate two companies; four need to be fed. In two streams. In between, everything can be quickly replaced and updated.

They woke me up. “Quickly wash up and go to the canteen!” We got dressed, walked through the snoring cockpit, went out to the parade ground, there it was late autumn and night. The cooks, voluminous women who leave work every day with huge shopping bags in their short, thick hands, are already at work. Sticky porridge is brewed in large vats. Boiling water for tea is cool; bromine must be added to it.

Let's start. Everything must be done quickly, there will be no second attempt and no one is going to wait in case of delay, the companies will arrive exactly, minute by minute. Place ten plates on each table. The same number of mugs, spoons, ten pucks of butter and tea. Finally, a saucepan with kirzukha. Ready! Two and a half hundred pairs of boots rattle down the stairs and scrape the benches against the tiles. They squeezed behind the tables, froze, and sat down on command. “Food distributors, stand up!”

From the moment the first pair of end tables bring dirty dishes to the serving window until the boots of the next batch clatter on the stairs, time is compressed to the maximum for the kitchen attendants. Two huge cast-iron bathtubs, as if brought from someone’s apartment, with the same broken corners and yellowed enamel, stand against the wall, framed by yellow tiles. One is for washing dishes and the other is for rinsing. The first should be filled with almost boiling water, into which you need to pour soda. "To taste." The plates from the table come here, two soldiers bend over the bathtub, wash them and pass them with hands red from the hot water to two other soldiers, who, also bent over in an “L” shape, rinse the dishes in the second bathtub. The spoons go through the same procedure. Then comes the turn of the mugs.

After the battalion is fed, everything needs to be put in perfect order: wash the dishes in the specified sequence, carefully scrub the floor and slippery tiles, first crumbling pieces of soap onto the greasy surface, drain the water from the baths and wash them too, put all the utensils away and prepare them for the next meal. And only then can you have a snack yourself. Immediately after this you need to start peeling potatoes for lunch soup or mashed potatoes.

Three meals are remembered by the kitchen attendant until the end of the service. Anyone lucky enough to cut butter washers suffers from calluses on both palms for about a week afterward. One way or another, few people want to get caught in the kitchen for the second time. But there were those who served there for two years and did not seem to suffer from it at all. A person gets used to everything...

The Afghan kept the company in check so tightly that even the very thought of some kind of protest, relaxation, or even more so disobedience seemed seditious. An old chance, a small trifle did something that no one could imagine.

That evening the captain decided to personally take the company to dinner. The evening turned out to be cold. Coming out of the warm, relatively warm barracks, the soldiers felt the frosty October. A harsh, prickly wind quickly made its way under the thin tunics, burned my hands, and pinched my ears. The military builders, dressed in summer uniform according to the Regulations, could have been warmed by the movement, but the captain was in no hurry to leave the barracks. Swear words flew into the air in several languages ​​of the peoples of the USSR at once.

Finally, the company commander appeared, gave the command, let's go. The warriors who had managed to freeze walked, in his opinion, sluggishly and sang poorly. He did not feel inspired in either one, so just before the mess hall he turned his company onto the parade ground. If you don’t know how to walk, let’s learn, he threw it into the cold air. Twenty minutes of extracurricular activities did not bring the desired results. We’ll continue after dinner, Lipsky promised, and ordered us to go to the dining room.

Everything seemed to work out by itself. Without a single word or even a hint. The formation should enter the dining room “from the right one at a time” - the right rank moves, everyone else marches in place. Must march. This time the warriors’ feet did not move. The right one went, the rest stood rooted to the spot. Some invisible spark passed through the system, the decision was made without approval. All together and at the same time everyone independently. This effect cannot be achieved by any, even the most strict team.

- Didn't understand! Are you crazy?! – Lipsky couldn’t believe his eyes. - Leave it alone! Leave it alone, I said. Back! Быстро вернулись в строй! Leveled up!..

The soldiers who managed to enter the dining room reluctantly turned around. Repeated command - same result.

- What, you bastards, have reached an agreement, or what? – the captain switched to falsetto. – Did you like the drill? Sergeant, lead the company back to the parade ground,” he commanded.

For the next hour, the company, under the shouts of the captain, trampled on the frozen asphalt, not covered with snow. The impacts of boots echoed loudly in the walls of neighboring buildings. In the luminous windows of the barracks, as well as in the dining room awaiting them, it was warm and cozy, the battalion had long been celebrating its personal time, and only one company, in three dark squares, crossed the parade ground lengthwise and crosswise, sometimes falling under the dim light of lanterns, and then the steam exhaled by a hundred mouths could be seen.

“In short, I’m going on a hunger strike. Let this idiot eat cold porridge himself.” The idea apparently came to the mind of someone who had been previously convicted. They knew many different options for protest. “I won’t eat either,” someone else responded. “And I,” is the third. The others joined in silently. A decision was made in the ranks: it was a waste to consume today’s dinner.

Rejoiced at the obedience of the soldier Lipsky - the company began to march in place at the entrance to the dining room - did not yet realize that he already had a new problem. The command to “start eating” remained without any reaction; none of the soldiers touched the spoon. The captain became furious. “What, you creatures, don’t you want to eat?! Great! Attention! Finish your meal, go outside and line up,” he said quietly, with pressure on his vocal cords. This tone was known to the soldiers as a sign that did not bode well.

Having lined up the company at the dining room, the commander immediately sent it to the parade ground. The soldiers, who barely had time to warm up a little, were hit in the face by the icy wind again. This time Lipsky did not conduct drill training.

- Level up, smirrrnaa! - he commanded. The soldiers froze, obeying the order. “You’re fussing in vain, comrade soldiers.” Understand that I don’t need to do anything at all to bring you to your senses. If, according to the Charter, you are supposed to march on the spot, then you will march. And I will enforce the Charter by all means available to me. The word “instill,” in my understanding, comes from the word “sadism.” So, now I’ll show you how you can bend obstinate warriors with the help of the Charter. In such fresh, so to speak, weather, you will stand here at attention for a couple of hours...

Leaving the company in the care of the sergeants, Lipsky walked briskly to the location. The soldiers tried to talk to the sergeants: what kind of chaos, comrades? “Why are we,” the sergeants snapped in response, “it’s our own fault, we irritated him...” They exchanged a couple of phrases. They fell silent.

Private Rabinovich began to hum a song. The melody of the Italian hit began to please the ears of the numb guys. True, Rabinovich’s interpretation was somewhat different from the original. “We were pinned for 10 kopecks - Felicita...” sang the private. And of course, in his performance it was not “pinned” at all; Rabinovich, who went through childhood, was accustomed to more specific expressions.

Lipsky returned dressed in an overcoat and gloves. The singer fell silent at the sight of him. Silence. Only the wind and the noise of the factory in the distance. Walking along the line, the company commander began to frantically mock the soldiers:

– Well, as you can see, I’m now wearing a warm overcoat and boots. I have them with zip insoles, so I feel quite comfortable. I can allow myself to enjoy your company until lights out. Cold and hunger are the best means for education! I love educational measures. Therefore, I am glad, comrade soldiers, very glad that you voluntarily gave up food. You will freeze much faster on an empty stomach.

The captain pronounced the words quietly, with emphasis. The soldiers, standing at attention, were forced to listen to this entire tirade. The absurdity of the reason that gave rise to this whole circus had already been forgotten by that moment; the conflict came to the fore, increasing in size.

I wanted to hide my numb fingers in my pockets, my boots seemed to be frozen to the asphalt, my stubble, ruffled by goose bumps, turned blue. The minutes dragged on as if we had lost the will to move. How many of them have passed? The lights went out in the barracks, only the windows of the third company, their yellow eye sockets illuminating the darkness, were patiently waiting for their guests...

Attention! Fortunately, although it is not prohibited to move your eyes, you can look at the snow clouds floating across the sky. I would like to sail with them from here to far away, from all this insanity, the blatantly senseless killing of time, misanthropic, false, unnatural imbecility, forget about the cold, about Lipsky along with his tsigeik insoles, about combat, combat and political... In the end, what difference does it make whether the left column is marching when the right one enters the dining room, or no?..

There is a limit to everything. Common sense eventually told the captain that he could no longer pretend to be Napoleon. Tomorrow, after such educational measures, half the company may collapse with pneumonia. This won't make anyone feel any better. And where will these “creatures” go, there’s still plenty of time.

- Attention, company! To the right,” the company commander finally commanded. - March straight ahead! Sing a song!

- Fuck you!.. Damn, I found some singers!..

Lipsky, of course, did not hear the remark. The song stopped mid-sentence. Just the tramp of boots, like a steady drumbeat...

In winter it’s +17 in the barracks. That's how it's supposed to be. In the fall, whatever happens. Heating is turned on as planned. No one knows the plan except those who include it. In October it can be +11 or even +8 in the cockpit. Who cares? No snow means it's summer. It's more convenient. The captain is right, when a person is hungry, it is more difficult for him to keep warm. We arrived at the barracks without feeling our feet. Take off your clothes. Leave it alone! We lined up again. The cold in the room took away the last remnants of warmth. They made it darker for the sake of order. Finally, the command “Hang up!”, the bed does not help, the thin blue blanket categorically refuses to share its warmth. The blood stops in the veins. If only there was an overcoat on top... The company commander personally ensures that no one takes anything from the dryer!

In the morning, breakfast on the tables remained untouched. The news quickly spread around the battalion and reached the battalion commander. The entire command staff came to the dining room for lunch, and special officers were already present at dinner. In the 386th VSO there was an emergency, a riot.

“Comrade soldiers,” an alarmed officer of the political department addressed the personnel gathered at the takeoff after dinner, “I think you understand perfectly well that your confrontation has no prospects.” We, for our part, understand that such an action cannot be organized by itself. I would like to notify you that we are actively identifying the instigators. You are not just citizens of a country. You are liable for military service. Therefore, your protest is not just dissatisfaction, it is an attempt to undermine the defense capability of the Soviet Union; as you understand, it is a political matter.

“I admit that the company activists, Komsomol members and, above all, the Komsomol organizer, did not attach importance to the political emphasis of your rebellion, succumbed, so to speak, to the general mood and supported the immature, irresponsible part of the personnel,” the officer continued. – I offer them a complete amnesty if tomorrow morning they stop supporting enemy elements, stop the hunger strike, at least try to return their colleagues to common sense and help the commanders localize the incident, at a maximum. One thing, however, I can promise all of you without exception - if it comes to the command of the district, no one will go unpunished. Think, comrade soldiers, you don’t have much time. Until the morning...

And there was evening, and there was morning: the second day. 05:20—get up, exercise. The weather never changed. The snow, oppressive from above in the sagging clouds, was in no hurry to fall on the sinful earth; the wind blew fiercely on the parade ground, scattering the remnants of tattered leaves across the asphalt. Everything went according to plan: drill, then breakfast. Of course, no one touched him. “What, you still don’t want to? Great! Finish your meal, go out and line up.” Morning break for work.

During the day, those who had the opportunity to leave ran to the store, stocked up, had a snack, and shared with those who could not leave the site unnoticed. The work piled up a double quota, officers were sent to watch every platoon, every squad, so that they wouldn’t slack off and sit in their trailers. The day seemed to drag on forever...

“If there was a God, then I would say: “Glory to God!”, comrade soldiers,” the political commissar began his speech after dinner was again left on the tables. – We don’t have many soldiers who can claim to be the organizers of the riots. First of all, he is a Baptist who has not taken the oath. He, like no one else, benefits from protest sentiments among his colleagues; he is anti-Soviet. Those previously convicted also left not far from him. This contingent is also well known to us. Thus, in essence, all that remains is to choose between a sectarian and elements who have already broken the law once. But you, comrade soldiers, most of you, and I want to emphasize this, are Komsomol members, you can easily change this whole unsightly picture. Don’t expose already flawed people, don’t provide them with support, return to the framework of the Charter, discipline, order, and everything will work out. I think you understand that no one intends to endlessly endure the disgrace you have started. Tomorrow is the decisive day!

The soldier is ready to sleep always and everywhere: during political classes, in the cinema, while watching the program “I Serve the Soviet Union!”, at work, leaning against the wall with a trowel in his hands, and even in the formation at the divorce. It doesn’t matter what the weather is, the main thing is that the conditions are more or less good. And a reason. The only exception, probably, is when a soldier is frozen to the bone, it’s cold in the barracks, and he’s also hungry. Although he is always hungry too.

“So what now? – Seryozha asked himself, tossing and turning in his bed and tucking his legs in to keep warm. “Do you want to go to prison?” Before lights out, Lekha Erofeev said to him as he walked: “Get ready, brother, we’ll ride behind the locomotive!” Serezha didn’t want to ride “for the locomotive”. Moreover, he was not one. But try explaining this to my dear comrades from the political department! They need to report to the top: “The incident has been suppressed, the violators have been identified and punished!”

The night outside the window was seething with emotions, riding the wind and rushing along the empty city streets. The wind, it seemed, was only happy about this, fluttering some weakened tin sheet on a nearby roof, trying to rip it off. The tin resisted for a long time, squealed, creaked, slammed against the concrete ceiling, and then it gave up, fell, slammed to the ground, and jumped along the asphalt, making a disgusting grinding sound. The wires on the poles hummed like dogs. All this accurately reflected what was going on in Seryozha’s soul. He couldn't sleep.

Insomnia rarely comes alone; with it, disturbing thoughts appear like a swarm. I remember problems, unresolved, unsolvable questions, growing in the morning to the size of huge monsters. Don't drive them away, don't disperse them.

Seryozha imagined himself in a camp barracks, with “lessons” around. Grown men, robe, life according to concepts, rings pinned on the fingers, stars on the shoulders, fiery texts: “I will not forget my own mother” and “Everything is paid for.” The guards are the same soldiers, only “red-feathered”, sentries in the same greatcoats, only with shepherd dogs on a leash. And certainly not two years. Are you ready for this, Seryozha? And most importantly, for what? Just because the company went on a hunger strike?..

The next day, the Komsomol organizer and some conscientious, as they were called, warriors began to eat. The unconscious majority continued to persist. It wasn’t easy, I had less and less strength left, I was forced to work more and more. The days stretched into infinity, exhausted soldiers walked home from work, dreaming of warmth and bread, their boots, like weights, fluttered on their wobbly feet. “If only it had snowed,” the soldiers muttered under their breath, “the heating might have been turned on.”

From the checkpoint you go straight to the parade ground. Evening divorce. They leveled off and became quiet. The officers approached the battalion commander for a meeting. “They say about us, we’re an ash tree stump,” muttered Rabinovich, “they’ll soon forcefully shove porridge down our throats.”

Sergei suddenly squatted down - a sharp pain pierced his left hypochondrium, his eyes darkened.

-What are you doing? – Sanya asked, grabbing him by the arm.

“Yes, there’s something stabbing in my side, as if someone stuck an awl,” Sergei answered, crouching.

– You should look at yourself, you have no face, you’ve turned green. Hey bro, what's wrong with you? Can you reach the company?

- I'll try...

The medical unit decided: poisoning. What poisoning, Sergei was indignant, he didn’t eat anything for three days. “It doesn’t matter, just in case, we’ll rinse out the stomach, maybe our brains could work better,” the doctor was extremely kind. They gave me a three-liter jar of potassium permanganate solution. Drink! Naturally, the washing did not give any results.

“Go back to your company, soldier,” the doctor concluded, “rest, sleep, if you don’t feel better, come back in the morning and we’ll figure out something else.”

“We’ll figure it out...” The pain did not subside. No matter what position Seryozha lay down in: even on his back, even on his stomach, with a pillow under his stomach, even with his legs tucked in, it was all the same - the “thorn in his side” provided a constant sharp and intolerable pain... He got up, tried to squat - the same effect. “Rest and get some sleep,” the soldier mimicked the doctor. It seemed like the night would never end, worse than in the outfit.

In the morning, Sergei stood at the doctor’s office long before he reported for duty. After examining him again, the elder gave him some kind of pill and sent him back to the company. Now it will probably pass. It probably didn't go away. By lunchtime the pain became unbearable. The doctor finally decided: he needed to go to the hospital. Let's take you to a civilian hospital - the military hospital is too far away. While the paperwork was being completed, it began to get dark. Sergei arrived at the hospital late in the evening. One day after the onset of the attack.

“Not our patient,” the surgeon examined the soldier first. – Very similar to inflammation of the pancreas.

Sergei was escorted to the therapy room. The nurse who came to install the IV chuckled and, leaving the supplies, ran off to call the interns: go practice getting into his veins, they’re like hoses. Two girls, almost schoolgirls, came running and began interrupting each other: let me try, no, I also need to study, where else can you find such veins?

“You try not to let go of the pickaxe for a whole year, and you’ll have something like this,” Sergei tried to smile.

I didn’t have to train for long, they put in an IV, droplets of medicine ran through a transparent hose, and the pain finally subsided...

Woke up out of habit at 05:20. First thought: what happened? Why doesn't the orderly yell? Why is it so quiet? In the darkness I noticed the absence of second tiers on the beds. Oh yes, hospital, veins, IV.

At exactly six o'clock the light came on in the room and a nurse entered. Procedures. The men habitually turned on their sides, positioning the right place for the injection; someone held out their palm with a cup and received the pills. They brought Sergei no-shpa, which means the diagnosis was finally confirmed: pancreas.

At first, the ear reacted to any sharp sound and caught commands. The noise of the hoarse voices of the sergeants, the clatter of boots on takeoff, and the usual urging shouts were missing. Everything is different here: the rooms are light, without dark blue panels, and there is a low-volume radio in the room. Everything is somehow leisurely, peaceful, including the picture outside the window: it seems to be the same coniferous forest, but it seems much fluffier, slimmer, and, of course, there’s also snow. The long-awaited snow has finally arrived.

The daily schedule is also different: breakfast with an unusual taste of tea without a dose of bromine, a quite tolerable soup for lunch, procedures performed by pretty nurses, or do they just seem nice out of habit, dinner, books, TV, a lot of free time, with a clear feeling of the absence of external control that you are used to, there is no every second overwhelming observation, there are a lot of people around, but in their surroundings you can feel in solitude, in a word, idyll, some completely different world.

The soldier looked at the unusual comfort warily. I was afraid to get used to it: you have to serve for another year, soldier, don’t relax! And in general, he thought that he would not want to stay here for a long time. Being sick, no matter how wonderful the conditions, is bad.

Every day someone was discharged from the hospital and someone was admitted to it. In a couple of days, the new guy got used to it, shared similar interests with someone, and made friends. In the dining room, such people tried to sit at the same table, in the wards they talked for a long time, sometimes argued, exchanged books, had conversations about life, there was a lot of time. Even very much so.

To watch a feature film before the “Time” program, walking patients gathered in the lobby. There, in the corner, stood alone a black and white Record-312, old, but still producing a tolerable picture. The sharpness and sound were regulated by striking the body with a fist. In the group that lined up the old sagging sofa against the wall opposite, there was always a craftsman who knew exactly where to hit. “Record” snarled, hissed with ripples, but obeyed.

Every evening, people in pajamas, dressing gowns, and tights invariably hurried to a kind of oasis to take a seat on the sofa. Latecomers carried chairs with them. TV was not the only entertainment; there was also chess, and you could, of course, play checkers if you wanted.

She appeared unexpectedly. In no case did he have, could not have had any premonition, much less expectation. He came, as always, as he did almost every evening, into the foyer, and saw her there. She was sitting at the table and playing checkers. Her opponent, a middle-aged man, played loudly, enthusiastically, with a clear desire to impress. She pretended that she was also interested, but, rather, out of a sense of tact. I understood or got used to it a long time ago - a beautiful girl usually enjoys attention.

I took a quick glance at Sergei who came in and he greeted everyone. She didn't answer. New girl. I haven’t gotten used to it yet, we don’t know each other. The soldier sat down, there was an empty seat on the sofa, in the firm belief that he would watch the news. But the eyes did not obey, the TV suddenly became uninteresting, the eyes looked at the screen, while the peripheral vision constantly strove to the side, trying to snatch the table where they were playing checkers.

Always restrained, not giving free rein to youthful dreams, and therefore considering himself, and probably quite rightly, a complete layman in matters of the heart, the warrior did not recognize himself. From somewhere very far away came the voice of an announcer: “Today in Moscow a ceremonial meeting of the Central Committee of the CPSU, the Supreme Council of the USSR and the Supreme Council of the RSFSR, dedicated to the next anniversary of the Great October Socialist Revolution, opened in Moscow...” “Ha, I brought another checker to the kings,” the heated player loudly interrupted him. “Kremlin Palace of Congresses, 10 o’clock in the morning...” — the Vremya program did not give up. “Your move, mademoiselle,” the player ignored the talking head. “Those present greeted their comrades with stormy, prolonged applause...” “Noooo, that won’t do! I’m ready to forgive you a lot, but breaking the rules with all due respect, so to speak...”

News has never been so boring. Today, no anniversary, even the most recent one, could give them freshness. Checkers is where it gets really interesting. Seryozha tried to distract himself, got up, went into the room, took a book, and threw himself on the bed. The book was unreadable, the letters jumped, blurred, scattered across the pages like muddy cockroaches, no, the news was still more interesting. Returned to the foyer.

“And so we lost,” the girl clapped her hands. - Now you must give way to someone else. After all, we were playing for the winner!

-Who should we give in to here? – her opponent was surprised. - Everyone is watching TV. Comrade citizens, does anyone want to play checkers? You see,” after waiting a second, he stated, “nobody wants to!”

Nobody really wanted to. Except perhaps for one thing.

- Well, maybe that young man will want to? – the voice of the winner sang.

There was only one young man in the lobby. He stubbornly pretended to listen to the announcer.

- Which young one? – the loser looked back. - Is that the one over there? Hey, soldier, do you want to play checkers? - and turning to her, he explained: - This is a soldier, he entered the army a few days before you.

Sergei was afraid to look in the direction of the players. Slowly he took his eyes off the screen. Yes, there was no doubt left, she smiled and called him. "I?" “Well, of course, you, who else? – laughed. “What a wonderful one.” The man clearly reluctantly gave way: “I’ll get even, I’ll go and have a smoke for now.”

Seryozha’s hands suddenly became weak, his palms sweated. After hesitating slightly, he rose from the sofa, trying not to show embarrassment, walked almost like a drill to the table, and pushed back the chair with a flourish. “Well, let’s try,” he said.

Now she was very close, on the contrary. Unnoticed, furtively, during the game, he examined the details. Thin, if not ideal, then certainly correct facial features, curly, dark hair, styled in a short fashionable hairstyle, calm, slightly daring-looking eyes. It was precisely these girls that Sergei was always afraid of, considered unattainable, almost stars, and would never have dared to approach them first to meet them.

While still watching TV, Seryozha noticed that the girl was not dressed casually. The tights with stripes and the light T-shirt she was wearing were signature. “Adidas” is a kind of sign; it is not sold on every corner, you need to “get it” somewhere. Either thieves or opportunism, any Soviet person would say about such an outfit.

Serezha, of course, lost the game. The opponent is right there, he’s already smoked.

“Now I,” he said. - To the winner.

“No, the loser must be given the opportunity to win back,” the beauty disagreed. - Let's play again.

No one dared to argue with her.

“Well, this time I lost,” the girl said with feigned sadness when the next game was over. Extending her hand, she added: “Let’s at least get to know each other, or something.” Tanya.

- S-Sergey.

- Very nice. It’s already late, I need to rest, I’ll probably go to the ward.

The dream ran away somewhere very far, hid behind the Ural hills. The soldier tried to close his eyes, but immediately saw her face. My thoughts were confused, at first I wanted the morning to come quickly, then I wanted the night to last longer. Many times he decided to pull himself together, go to sleep, you never know who smiles at anyone, it doesn’t mean anything, then he abandoned the decision, admitting that sympathy most likely still exists. He tossed and turned all night, periodically falling into a shallow sleep.

The rounds and procedures in the morning were accompanied by the thoughts of the night that had not disappeared. After lunch there is a quiet hour - why not an opportunity to think, evaluate, understand yourself. I saw her in the dining room, she waved her hand at him and smiled starryly. He was afraid to admit to himself that he liked this greeting. Perhaps she is disposed towards him, he tried to reason with himself, it’s just that first impressions are always deceptive, this will pass. And one more thing...

And another girl who remained in her hometown. No, of course, no one owes anything to anyone, no one promised anything. There is no relationship and there never was. Maybe just a little. In childhood. Just think, I came to see off, others came too. Just think, I congratulated you on the New Year, but then everything, silence, deaf, like in a tank, no letter, no news, nothing!.. But a year has already passed - not even a word, not even a line. It’s not difficult to make yourself known: I remember, they say, that there is such a thing in the world...

And this Rafael too. Maybe this is the reason. Probably, she walks around the city with him, is kind to him, we saw them on the bus, he accompanies her home in the evenings, and here I am sanding the parade ground with my boots, I don’t let go of the crowbar, I disassemble machine guns on Saturdays, and I run around in a gas mask on Sundays. If I want, of course, I can convince myself that in the future, maybe something could work out, but when I return home, she will take me and say: “Meet me, this is my Rafael.” What then?..

The television program for that evening included some new film, which was predicted to be very interesting. The lobby was unusually crowded. The residents of the therapeutic department arranged chairs tightly in a semicircle; for those who did not have enough, stools and a sofa were “stuffed” first. Sergey arrived late, dozed off after a sleepless night and slept through the beginning of the premiere. I didn’t say hello, I didn’t want to distract anyone, I quietly leaned my elbows to the side against the wall.

The now familiar girl, Tatyana, was sitting in the middle of the sofa, noticing Sergei, she turned around and nodded slightly. The smile barely touched her face. You see, all the places are already taken. Hello, he nodded in response, nothing, I’m here, by the wall. No one seemed to notice their silent dialogue. But it only seemed so.

“Oh, I have a headache,” a woman of about sixty, sitting next to the girl, said this so that Seryozha could hear. - It’s just splitting apart, no movie will fit, I’ll go to the ward. You, soldier, sit in my place, I will give way to you, right here, next to Tanya.

To argue, to object, to refuse is to distract the audience. The girl made a movement that should have meant that she wanted to move: here, sit down. However, there was absolutely nowhere to move; Seryozha had to squeeze into the space created after the elderly woman left. He stretched his arms forward, pressing his palms with his knees so as not to touch his neighbors with his shoulders. I couldn’t sit like that for long; after a while I had to lean on my back and straighten my shoulders. It turned out very tight. The guy thought that he had probably never sat so close to a girl. My heart was pounding convulsively, and it seemed as if it was drowning out the TV. He was embarrassed. Because of what exactly, he could not say, nevertheless, he tried to get up and leave, but then decided that this would look indecent. Finally the film ended, people rustled their slippers, moved their chairs, and began to quietly discuss the plot.

- Well, Sergey, maybe we can play checkers? – she asked when the guy was ready to run into the ward.

“Let’s do it better tomorrow, if you don’t mind,” he timidly refused.

- What's wrong? – she raised her eyebrows, but did not insist. - Okay, tomorrow, then tomorrow. Just don’t forget, you promised me!

It's easy to get acquainted with the game of checkers. You can joke, make fun of your losing opponent, or feign extreme despair over a bad move. The awkwardness of a brief acquaintance disappears, and opportunities to show sympathy open up.

- Why are you so strange, soldier? It’s okay that I’m on first name terms; we’re most likely the same age, aren’t we?

– You can also use “you”. Yes, probably the same age.

- When were you born?

– Nineteen years ago, in August.

- Hmm, and I’m in January, six months later. So, really, they are the same age.

- It turns out, yes.

We smiled. We were silent.

- So why are you so wild, soldier, huh?

– What’s wild?

- Well, of course, usually guys immediately try to get acquainted, you can’t get rid of it, but you... well, if not wild, then some kind of modest, shy.

Seryozha seemed to be ready for such a turn. On the sleepless night before, he decided that he would definitely tell the girl about his faith in God, that he, according to popular belief, was a “downtrodden sectarian.” Such an admission should work, repulse her, or at least cause antipathy.

– Do you?.. Believe in God?! – she asked again.

They stood at the window, at the end of a long corridor covered with light linoleum. The nurse was wiping the floor with a damp cloth, the linoleum glistened, reflecting the light of the large lamps stretching along the ceiling. It was winter outside the window. Fluffy snowflakes, slowly dancing a waltz, lay one on top of the other, diligently evenly covering with white the slope, decorated on the flat top with a bunch of mighty spruce trees. It was pleasant to watch all this from the window - there was a feeling of comfort, lightness and, whatever you say, romance.

“Yes, I believe in God,” he deliberately did not continue, did not say anything more, tried to give the moment dryness and, thus, emphasize, cause the expected immediate rejection. This means that the dialogue will quickly end.

“Hmm,” she had no intention of turning away. – To be honest, I never thought about the possibility of God’s existence. We were taught that He does not exist. I have no doubt that you will too. How did you manage to believe? Parents?

- Yes, education. At school, of course, I heard the same thing as you...

“I’m not interested in school,” she interrupted. – Tell me about something else, where and who raised you.

The most seemingly simple things surprised her.

“Okay, I can still believe that no one smokes or drinks there,” she said, “but the fact that you don’t swear, I won’t believe that for the life of me.” Does the Bible prohibit? How can she, I wonder, ban it?

- And like this, it says: “Let no rotten word come out of your mouth, but only good.”

“Is it true that you turn out the lights at your meetings and do who knows what,” she openly scoffed.

- What nonsense! - he exploded. – All these stories are pure propaganda, how can you believe this? In Baptist churches, by the way, there is no divorce. At least, in all my time I have not encountered a single such case.

“Yeah, and before the wedding, tell me, no, no,” she laughed, not hiding the irony.

- Yes, exactly! You just said: no, no, that’s why I look strange in your eyes.

“Tell me that you haven’t been kissed,” she narrowed her eyes.

- In terms of?

“Really,” she laughed cheerfully. - In the sense that I have never kissed a girl.

- Of course, never. We were taught that the first kiss should belong to the one who will become the wife.

- What kind of incubator is this? It’s like you live in isolation from the whole world! In general, you know that guys and girls sometimes meet, fall in love, and it’s normal that they kiss and then get married.

– In the know, of course. Moreover, I know firsthand how all these “sometimes” end. By the way, they don’t always get married. My classmate, for example, gave birth in ninth grade. And what, pray tell, did this burning love give her? She didn’t have a family, she didn’t really finish school, she couldn’t give her child any sense... Therefore, Bible-wise people warned us from a young age: “Do not rush to bring gasoline to the fire.” There was such a sage Ecclesiastes, maybe you heard him, and so he stated: “There is a time for everything... a time to embrace, and a time to shy away from embraces.” So we were advised: until the time comes for hugs, it is better to avoid them. But why are we all talking about me and about me? Tell me about yourself, Tanya,” Seryozha asked.

– Everything is simple for me. Everything is like everyone else. My parents are decent people, by our standards, of course, I am an active Komsomol member, always ahead, sticking my nose in everywhere, as befits a Komsomol member. I work at a factory, I study at the evening department of the institute. In the future, membership in the CPSU and a corresponding position. What else interests you? No, not married,” she laughed. - There are plenty of suitors, but not a single one. They say you can’t command your heart... well, yes, everything is still ahead...

Over the next few days, the young people used all their free time to communicate. There was a lot of time, but they never had enough of it; they wanted to talk, it seemed, about everything. It cannot be said that Sergei fell in love, although someone might have said so. He was drawn to Tanya, he was interested in her, he admired her beauty, he liked her freshness, sincerity, passion, curiosity. Apparently, she also enjoyed their meetings. Sergei, of course, could not look into the girl’s heart, but something told him that his sympathy was mutual.

“Tell me, Seryozha,” Tanya asked once, “are you also forbidden to marry non-believing girls?”

“In general, you can say so,” he answered after thinking a little.

- Disgrace! What happens that we, Komsomol members, athletes and, finally, beautiful girls, are neglected by you, sectarians?

- Well, why do it right away? It is still unknown who is neglecting whom. You see, judging by me, for example, I don’t know how or when this will happen to me. I don’t know how I’ll behave if I fall in love with an unbelieving girl.

- Well, you don’t know, but why then are you forbidden? After all, you don’t even allow thoughts.

– I think the question is a difference in beliefs, a difference that will certainly make itself felt in life, no matter how nice people are to each other.

– What do you mean when you say “beliefs”? Is it faith in God? Does he come first for you even in such a matter as love?

- Yes, that’s right! At this moment I cannot love anyone more than I love God.

– You’re just a fanatic!..