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

and a young boy, were driving the herd toward them. The Afghans were
afraid that the shuravi would run down their goats and began to mill about
and fuss. Sharagin signalled a halt. At the same moment, lance-corporal
Prokhorov, the wiry and daring gunner in the first BMP, opened the rear
hatch and seized a young kid.
Sharagin didn't notice anything, all he heard was a dull thud as the
hatch slammed shut, and turned around in surprise to see a female goat
butting the BMP's armour:

... stupid animal ... what on earth possessed it? ...

The kid traveled on with the squad, quietly chewing into a sack of
potatoes. Halfway through, it almost started on some sticks of TNT that were
kept to help in digging trenches. Prokhorov and Panasyuk caught the kid
devouring the short-supply potatoes and dragged it out of the vehicle,
swearing profusely, to the encouraging shouts of their comrades.
The poor, frightened animal plunged wildly amid a forest of legs and
shadows cast by surrounding soldiery until Titov felled it to earth and slit
its throat with his bayonet.
Naturally, there was not enough fresh meat to go around. The younger
men had to make do with boiled pearl barley, but the youngsters devoured it
greedily, chomping and belching, licking their spoons and mess tins clean in
their hurry to fill their bellies before their older comrades could
intervene.
They watched from a respectful distance how the old hands savoured
their meat, sucking the bones clean and helping themselves to baked
potatoes: first they would poke around in the hot ashes with a twig, roll
out a potato, pull off the blackened peel, pop the white inside into their
mouths, and take another bite of goat meat.
"A drop of whaddya call it, port, would go down a treat now, eh Panas?"
Asked lance-corporal Prokhorov, licking his greasy fingers.
"Stop breaking my heart. When we get back to the Union, then we'll pull
out all the stops and celebrate! As much port and vodka as you can hold!"
"Shit yes, that'll be really something!"
"When we get back to the company, fuck me if I get up off my bunk for
anything. I won't move a finger until I'm demobbed!" Panansyuk took a bite
of potato. "If it wasn't for this assignment, we'd be getting ready to go
back right now..."
The youngsters chewed on dry crackers, listening enviously to the old
hands' fantasies.
"Hey, Chiri, why are you resting your balls by that fire? Where's the
tea, boy?" shouted Prokhorov. "Damn greenhorns! You'll be jerking off for a
long time yet before you can think of demob!" He laughed loudly. "But the
grand-daddies of the Soviet Army will be getting up to God knows what in a
month's time. Lock up your daughters, people! I told you, remember, how
we've got this whole female hostel right next door, a new slit every night,"
he went on, making things up on the spur of the moment, and believing his
own lies. "I remember Panas, see, how you'd come every night to a dance,
pick up a chick, and on the way back to the hostel, naturally, you'd get her