about

Here it is, female 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, until 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 strong beautiful hands are busy, but his whole body is striving to meet me ... No one has ever silently and eloquently let me know 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. On New Year's Eve, 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 my 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 ...

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.

A brief history of events 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 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 by pointing to the scapegoat at the first public condemnation of a war that lasted for six months, that, even now, public opinion has drawn 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

By chance, this turned out to be our first and last night of love with Ira. The next day, Kostya abandoned his passion and returned to his family. After that, I still often visited them, but, of course, both I and Irina kept our secret.

P.S. Four years have passed since that night. We moved to another area of ​​the city and have not seen Kostya and Ira for three years. Literally by chance, they dropped in on us "for a light", and now, when everyone was already pretty drunk, Ira gave out the phrase: "The fact that Kostya left me was a big plus - I found out what a real man is." And all this time she looked directly into my eyes. Thank God that our other halves took it as a drunken chatter in order to annoy Kostya.

officer's wife

Title: officer's wife

The withdrawal of our troops from Mongolia was the most difficult period of my service. We left the inhabited military town and left for no one knows where, it’s good that I was given a wagon-caravan, since I commanded the signalmen’s department at the regiment headquarters. True, it was difficult to call it a department - only four people: three demobilized (Karasev, Poluchko and Zhmerin) and one salaga (Starkov). And in this composition, plus me and my wife Tanya, with all state-owned equipment and personal property, we had to travel across Siberia to a new location in the Ural Military District.

Everyone was engaged in loading together, I drove all my belongings on a cart to the wagon with Private Starkov, where the other three soldiers, under the guidance of my wife, loaded everything inside. And as I rolled the cart around the corner, I stopped to rest and wait for Starkov, who ran back to get the things I had dropped in the confusion. From here I had a beautiful view of the platform, where my wife told the three demobilized people how to carefully load the cabinet with a glass door, and they listened to her lazily, from time to time looking sideways at her body covered with sports tights.

Come on boys, let's get it! And you Valera accept!

Karasev jumped into the car, preparing to receive the load, while Poluchko and Zhmerin began clumsily lifting the cabinet.

Oh, be careful! - shouted Tanya, rushing to hold the unexpectedly opened glass door. - Why are you so!

After most of the cabinet was lifted into the car, the soldiers relaxed and winked at my wife.

Allow me, we’ll lift it up from here, ”said Zhmerin, as if by chance coming up behind and grabbing my wife by the chest, while Poluchko was pawing her buttocks in the same manner.

Well, let it go! Tatyana shouted sternly, slapping Zhmerin's hands.

The soldiers immediately moved away from her, hesitating.

You look to dissolve your hands! I'm not thinking for a long time, I can complain about you, or even hit me with something!

“Well, it seems to be starting,” flashed through my head, although I didn’t have time to think about what exactly was starting. Starkov came and we rolled the cart to the car.

I remembered this incident already on the road, when, having fenced off the snoring fighters with a screen, my wife and I went to sleep on the mattress prepared for this.

"But what if you leave her alone, alone with them? Will they rape her or be afraid?" I thought, "But what the hell is going on in my head! This is probably from the fact that I haven't made love for a long time."

I tried to kiss my wife on the lips, but she turned away.

Lesha, don't! Your soldiers are sleeping nearby.

Yes, they will not hear anything, they are sleeping without hind legs. Namayalis see much for the day. I pressed.

I'm tired too. - Tatyana resolutely stopped my encroachments.

But the chance to leave his wife with the soldiers was not long in coming. Arriving on the territory of the Union, we stopped at the location of one part of the railway troops for an indefinite period. There was nowhere to accommodate, so all of our people continued to live in wagons. And somehow, one Sunday, I had to be on duty at the headquarters, which was at the railwaymen. Of course, I went there not without fear, leaving my wife in the care of the soldiers, but everything seemed to be fine, and besides, I did not sit there for long. A railway officer came who had some paperwork there and offered to stay at the headquarters instead of me, especially since it is unlikely that anyone will disturb the headquarters on a day off after the move. I willingly took advantage of his offer and hurried home, but before reaching my car, which stood separately in one of the dead ends, I suddenly found an empty bottle of vodka lying on the ground. This, and also the fact that the door of the caravan was tightly pushed, alerted me. I wanted to break in there, but overcoming the excitement, I walked around the car on the other side, where there was a gap through which you can see what is happening inside, while remaining unnoticed. The following picture appeared before me: Karasev and Zhmerin were holding a tensely snoring Starkov, and Poluchko was trying to take off his pants. My wife rushed around them.

The train flashed by its luminous windows, whistled a long farewell, and we were left alone with two suitcases at a dimly lit half-station. Rare lanterns, one-story wooden and brick houses with tightly closed shutters, the lights of high-rise buildings flickered in the distance ... After the regular thud of the wagon wheels, silence fell upon us.

Our independent life began.

We had nowhere to sleep. The compassionate duty officer of the hostel offered to stay in the "red corner", where a young married couple had already settled for the night. Probably, our confusion touched the heart of the unfamiliar lieutenant, because late at night, when the four of us gathered at a long meeting table covered with red staples and wondered what we should do, he knocked softly and, apologetically, handed us the key to his room. He and his friend went to sleep in the gym ...

My husband and I once studied in the same class, sat at the same desk, copied from each other, prompted in the lessons. How I didn’t want him to become a military man! .. A gold medal, excellent knowledge in the natural sciences - the doors of all the universities of the city were open before him, but the family tradition (in his family all the men were officers) outweighed the scales.

When my research supervisor at the university found out that I was marrying a cadet, he urged me for a long time not to do stupid things. I studied well, received an increased scholarship, developed a promising topic that could become the basis for a dissertation. But youth and love do not care about the advice of elders, career and well-being. In addition, in self-denial, I imagined myself to be Princess Volkonskaya, going into exile to fetch her husband ...

Our town was considered one of the best. Representative commissions were brought here, flying back in helicopters filled to overflowing with deficits from the military trade warehouses and modest gifts of the local nature.

Everything was in that prosperous, exemplary garrison and the cleanliness that the soldiers brought in the mornings instead of full-time janitors, and the pond, dug and cleaned by their own hands, and the flower beds, abundantly filled with water, while it did not reach the upper floors of the houses, and even a fountain with cascades. There was only the smallest thing - housing for officers.

Young girls like me besieged every day the instructor of the communal-operational unit in charge of resettlement, and she calmly shrugged her hands: “Wait” ...

But not everyone was waiting. Who turned out to be smarter and who had money, soon moved into apartments. The rest, who did not want to present expensive gifts and give bribes, or simply did not have the required amount, lived in the hostel for a long time, moving from room to room.

There, in a communal apartment, for the first time in my life I saw bedbugs. Neighborhood with blood-sucking insects was combined with the crying of a baby behind the wall, the rumble of stomping boots along a long corridor, the howling of a siren in the morning, calling officers to a drill, with the voice of a singer coming from someone's old tape recorder, or the strumming of a detuned guitar.

A year later, I was no longer surprised that at three in the morning someone suddenly needed salt or a piece of bread, or even just wanted to pour out their soul.

Those who had no problems with housing are unlikely to understand the depth of happiness of owning their own corner. One of my acquaintances, also an officer’s wife, who has spent a lot of time around the world, lived in private apartments for crazy pay, once admitted to me: “You know, when I get my apartment, I will kiss and stroke its walls ...”

We were almost the last to leave the hostel, the day before the New Year. And together with the new neighbors, they burned unnecessary trash, boxes and crates. We watched in silence as the flames licked dry cardboard, shooting out bedbugs, and it seemed to us that we were incinerating our recent past in smoldering firebrands. It was believed that this cleansing fire would forever carry away all our sorrows and hardships into the blackness of the night.

And then they returned to their empty apartment, where instead of a light bulb two bare wires hung lifelessly, and on rickety chairs with official numbers that replaced our table, they celebrated the holiday by candlelight.

It wasn't until three years later that we finally received a warrant for a separate apartment.

After work, having hastily eaten store cutlets, we went to repair our new home. They rejoiced, like children, at each painted window, the wall pasted over with wallpaper. And in rare breaks, we imagined how great it would be for us to live here. No one will wake you up in the morning with the sound of heels, no one will meet you at the door and hand over your two-month-old baby to sit. In the evening it will be possible to watch by yourself, without neighbors, a rented TV.

I don’t remember when the first well-knit box appeared in our house, but only then did they become our constant companions. Wooden and cardboard, large and small, neatly folded "just in case."

Surprising this state - temporality. It is difficult to grasp at what point it becomes dominant in your destiny, powerfully subordinates you to its laws, predetermines your desires and actions.

I was absolutely sure that even the most severe administrator would not resist my honors diploma, optimism and energy, and I would find a job for myself without much effort. It wasn't there! At first, everything really went wonderfully (a pleasant smile, a friendly tone), but as soon as I announced that I was the wife of an officer ... At first, it was even curious to observe the drastic change that was taking place with my employers. Where did their administrative enthusiasm, friendliness, sympathetic intonations go! The answer followed immediately and in a categorical form: there are no vacancies and are not expected in the near future.

I continued to knock on the thresholds of the institutions until the military family instructor patiently explained to me that there was a long and hopeless queue for every place in the town. And you have to get out yourself if you want to work. The only thing she could offer me at that moment. - the position of the administrator in the hotel. And yet I was lucky. Something touched the heart of the elderly editor of the local newspaper, and he accepted me as a correspondent for a month's probation, thus insuring himself against further obligations.

It just so happened that in the career of a naval lieutenant, wives played, are playing and will play a significant role. Tamara Adrianov knew this firsthand, because she was the daughter of Captain 1st Rank Adrianov, a sailor in the third generation. Her "great-great-great-grandfather" began to build ships at the shipyards of Peter himself.

Tamara took both the article and the person, and most importantly the character, into her mother, who throughout her life was the commander of the quietest captain of the 1st rank Adrianov. She made a dizzying career for her husband by the standards of the Soviet era.

Tamara was born already in Leningrad, where the Adrianovs moved from the most terrible place in the Northern Fleet - "Gremikha" after two years of service. Further, the Leningrad naval base and the ambulance commander's shoulder straps of the Izhora arsenal, and then a warm place at the weapons department of the Frunze Naval School. Techniques in the career growth of the spouse were constantly improved: from light flirting with superiors during a festive feast, regular meetings in women's councils and to writing reports on the advantages of the Soviet system, which were necessarily attended by the highest political leadership of the unit, base or school.

The daughter of captain 1st rank Adrianov hooked her future husband at a dance at the naval school, where her father was in charge of the department by the age of 50. The cadet's name was Slava Sukhobreev with a "completely stupid" surname, according to the future mother-in-law, for a naval officer. In the registry office, fourth-year cadet Sukhobreev has already become Adrianov. A year later, as expected, with the birth of Artemka, the young family grew into an ordinary naval family of three. Unusual was only the fact that the family arrived at the first duty station consisting of 4 people: two-year-old Artemka, the beautiful Tamara with the most ordinary lieutenant and his extraordinary mother-in-law.

The wife of "comrade of the first rank" Adrianov bothered the lieutenant until he ordered the head of the KECH to allocate a one-room apartment to Adrianov. To which the head of the KECH, Captain Dzozikov, quietly asked the head of the medical unit about the state of health of the base commander. He answered him approximately in the following spirit, that the youngsters are completely "maddened" and they come to serve already with their mothers-in-law, and hence the possible health disorders of the captain of the 1st rank Oak himself - the commander of the base. Adrianov's mother-in-law was a clone of Oak's wife, who prudently decided to yield in small things so as not to lose in big ones. The base commander had just graduated from the logistics academy, and he had not yet forgotten strategy and operational art as a science.

Having received a full briefing from her mother about the career points of Lieutenant Adrianov, Tamara stayed with Artemka alone to wait for Slava, who went to sea the very next day after her mother appeared in Oak's office. The rest of the young lieutenants: Ponamar, Fima and Starov, who were given a whole two weeks to settle as a bachelor, “rejoiced for their friend” with pretty decent beer, believing that the hasty exit to the sea of ​​the “green by the standards of the lieutenant’s service” and his mother-in-law’s acquaintance with the command were phenomena one order. Friends sometimes ran to Tamara, helping to equip her happiness in a separate family nest, which "according to concepts and naval tradition" was supposed to be lieutenants, with the only difference being that by that time they had become lieutenant commanders. Young families lived in two or even three families in one apartment for 3-4 years. It all depended on how the couple endured "the hardships and hardships of military life."

The return of Slava Adrianov coincided with his birthday, so Tamara, following her mother’s instructions on career growth tactics, decided to stage everything in a big way, inviting Captain 1st Rank Oak with his wife and the head of the political department with his wife, hinting that she might come to this event from Peter and mom. Oak, learning about this, called the “chief medical officer” into the office and after a two-hour meeting, agreeing with the doctor’s arguments, he washed down a pressure pill in confusion with an awl (pure alcohol - fl. slang) from a decanter, which he kept in the commander’s safe.

Slava's friends had to not only rush to the city for groceries, but also turn out their pockets for arranging a grandiose table, giving the last of the due lift. The table turned out to be royal, and could decorate the reception of the Commander-in-Chief of the USSR Navy.

Finally, Slava returned "from the seas" three days late for his birthday, but this no longer mattered for the career start plan approved by the great mother-in-law. Mother Andrianov herself, to the quiet joy of Vyacheslav, could not come, but the cunning Tamara did not inform the wife of the base commander about this, and therefore Pyotr Andreevich Dub and his wife, the director of the school of the military camp, arrived, as befits a commanding couple, at the time established by the regulations.

The unexpected fact of the presence of the base commander himself at the birthday of a young lieutenant gave rise to many rumors: from the family ties of the Adrianov family with one of the members of the Central Committee of the CPSU, to the juicy details of the pranks of the fleet commander during his lieutenant's time in Gremikha, and hence the birth of the illegitimate beauty Tamara.

Frida Romanovna was not only the head of the school - the center of culture of the village, but also a writer by vocation. For her, in addition to home and school, poetry evenings in the House of Officers were a necessary attribute of power, where she could plug the "ignorant upstart" - the first lady of the formation, the admiral's wife herself - into her belt. Any feast for Frida turned into another creative idea, so the young lieutenants had to learn poetry for Adrian's birthday in accordance with the editing and literary processing of Frida herself. She liked to spend rehearsals with young lieutenants on weekends, when her husband went hunting or fishing. It was rumored that she also allowed "little pranks." But that's what the closed garrison is for, to give a reason to gossip, albeit for the sake of boredom. The fleet is strong with tradition, so why not?!

As expected, the innovations in the regulations for visiting the "Adrianov star family" were not entirely successful. The young part of the officer corps was too squeezed by the high presence at Slavkin's name day, and the "high presence" itself, understanding the idiocy of the situation, kept quiet and leaned on the "olivier", showing that the mouth was busy and "it" did not intend to squander courtesy on the birthday man. The poems of Mikhail Svetlov did not save either.

After short toasts to a colleague and his family, Starov tried to pick up a guitar and growl to Vysotsky, but, faced with the disapproving glances of Toma and Frida, fell silent, without "Having sung to the end ..." Having recited their part of the installation, Fima and Ponamar ran away to kitchen, ostensibly to smoke; but Starov, squeezed on one side by the elastic thigh of the wife of the head of the political department, and on the other, by the skinny relics of the wife of Captain Dzozikov, thought wistfully about the "free friends" who were kissing "quietly" at that moment to the neck of the steel shilnitsa. The birthday boy was sitting at the head of the table and, not knowing how to behave, pretended to be attentive to the idiotic arguments of the quickly gained doctor about the possibility in the near future of participation in "autonomy" on submarines and women. Thus an hour passed in torment for all. To the horror of the hostess, Frida Romanovna, dissatisfied with the table behavior of some young girls who lean on "dry", whispered something in the ear of the contented Oak. The situation was aggravated by the crash of jackhammers and the clatter of an excavator in the yard.

The festive feast was saved by Artemka. He stumbled into the room from the street in a clay-smeared overall. The grubby muzzle made cute faces. On the way, tearing off his hat with a blue, like a jumpsuit, pompom, dropping wet and dirty mittens under his feet, he shouted loudly, not paying any attention to the guests: "Pee, mother. Quickly, pee!"

Artyomka began to talk early, and by his 2.5 years he spoke so clearly with amazing diction that in response to ordinary questions: "How much is yours" - caused surprise and a certain distrust among the neighbors, especially since he was a big man beyond his years.

Before being escorted out into the street, Artemka ran in to the guests. Frida Romanovna, leaning her powerful torso towards the handsome boy, yelped and asked the traditional: "What is our name" - she was indescribably delighted with what she heard in pure Russian, and not in infantile gibberish: - Artem!

- Good God, what an admiral! - the table unanimously supported the enthusiastic remark of the wife of the base commander. The commander himself stopped chewing and moved to Starov's place closer to the baby.

Will you be an officer like your father? - Senior Adrianov proudly contemplated what was happening, feeling in his spinal cord that it had passed and the festive dinner was saved.

- No, a football player - a hockey player! - Artyomka shouted to enthusiastic applause, accepting the game of adults.

- Did you go to the street? Frida asked contentedly. The curly-haired little head with eyes like lakes swayed as a sign of affirmation of the affectionate question, and a plump finger appeared in the nose.

- We remove our fingers, - Frida Romanovna sang, - And we tell what we saw on the playground, - gently removing a small hand from a beautiful face, as women like to say: "in dressings." The peanut hid his hand behind his back and said loudly:

- I saw that the hole was dug for X ....!

The table froze and exhaled quietly, though the drunken doctor sounded a little louder three Russian letters, on which the sailors working in the yard buried the hole. A roar shook the room. Artemka, picked up by the strong hands of the enthusiastic captain 1st rank Oak, flew up to the ceiling. Frida Romanovna, who instantly looked like Faina Ranevskaya, laughed merrily, leaning back on the back of the sofa. Dumbfounded by her son's antics, Tamara sank helplessly into a chair. Artemka floundered in the hands of Oak, "somewhere up there" and burst into merriment.

Starov realized that the kid destroyed in a second the wall separating young families and families that took place in these harsh northern everyday life. He is the one for which nuclear submarines and long trips are needed! Artemka is the center of the universe, around which this complex world of adults revolves with their age-old questions of career and the harsh Soviet life of military towns.

Released, Artyom, to the first applause in his life, ran out into the street to the big "boys" and lonely pensioners - in a single impulse, rejoicing that they managed to bury the hole in the yard, right ("before the severe northern frosts").

Deep after midnight, a friendly song "about an island melting in the fog" swept over the courtyard with shabby houses and flew to that same Rybachy Island. Oak in the kitchen with Ponamar and Slava "sipped" from a flask of alcohol and smoked "Rhodopi". Tamara was putting the pillow more comfortably under the head of the doctor, who was fast asleep to the sound of sea songs. Fima passionately kissed in the bathroom with the wife of captain Dozikov, and the captain himself squatted with the enthusiastic Artemka and rattled, playing on the palace in an excavator, which was portrayed by Lieutenant Starov.

The life of young lieutenants, thanks to Artemka Adrianov, was getting better. Unlike Ponamar, Starov and Fima, Slava received a senior lieutenant three days earlier, but all the same they celebrated a year later all together in the presence of high authorities. Maybe because the couple Dubovs liked the young lieutenants of the 1978 class, or maybe because Slavka's mother-in-law came to such an important event for her.