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

prevent it. So Sharagin did not waste any regrets on that score. It was
beyond his power to break the long-standing
"youth-"finch"-"dipper"-"grandpa" tradition of relations in the ranks. There
was no changing the unchangeable.
Unreasoning impulsive cruelty, anger alongside a childish naivete,
sentimentality, unexpected kindness, pity, valor, sympathy which turns
easily into hatred (though not for long) - all these traits existed side by
side, from times immemorial, in officers and soldiers of the Russian army
and, probably, any Russian man.
"Mother fuckers!" cried lieutenant Chistyakov suddenly in ringing
tones.
This cry of the officer's heart had resounded regularly over the past
few weeks, a heart that was longing for home, and was addressed to everyone
at large: the army, Afghanistan, and soldiers on duty.
Junior sergeant Titov went off and hid in the store-room just in case.
Titov knew that if Chistyakov had left his room and was in a foul mood, it
was better to stay out of his way.
"Shaved your head, eh? Good for you!" Chistyakov ran a hand over his
friend's smooth skull.
"Well, what do you think?" asked Sharagin, pleased with his new look.
"Fine, we've been through that. Get the fuck out of here!" he yelled at
a soldier who had looked into the room. "Can't stand the sight of their
stupid mugs! I don't envy you! Our "graduates" are real tigers, of course,
but when they're gone, who'll we have left to fight with? Am I right,
Panasyuk?" asked the senior lieutenant turning suddenly and for no real
reason , but just (as he liked to say) to keep everyone on their toes,
punched Panasyuk hard in the stomach.
Panasyuk doubled over, gasping with pain:
"Y...y...you're right about them being tigers, comrade senior
lieutenant," he squeezed out after a moment's pause while his head cleared.
He smiled waveringly at Chistyakov, appreciating the compliment.
The silence of the barracks was shattered by the arrival of a horde of
the men, who filled the air with stamping, swearing, laughter and threats:
"Where d'you think you're putting that rifle, asshole!"
"What are you standing there for, move over!"
"...so what, a rifle..."
"Here, take mine and put it there too, I'm off to wash..."
"Put it there, stupid! Won't you morons ever learn!..."
"Sych! Look how you've made up my bunk!"
"......"
"Cat got your tongue?"
"I'll remake it..."
"Lazy sonofabitch! See my fist? What's it smell of? Your death, that's
what..."
"....."
"Company ten-hut!" yelled the soldier on barracks duty, saluting the
company captain, who had just entered. "Ready to report!"
"At ease," responded the lanky captain leisurely and sniffed loudly.
"Thirty degrees outside, and I've caught a cold! Who'd believe it?"
"It's the air-conditioning, captain," interjected senior warrant