Shuka

In the beginning of the 1960s.
My father, a young, unmarried lieutenant, a two-year-old, was sent to Red Turkestan near the town of Mara.
They built military airports there.
Here was a week in a new place, the second, the father got involved, set up the service of the squadron entrusted to him, and one hot evening, he asked himself a simple and logical question: "What would I do in my free time from service, so as not to go crazy?"
In fact, the question was not festive. The whole soldier library (all 12 books) the father read in a week, the TV channels in their desert did not reach, radio programmes reached, but they were either in Turkmen language, or in Russian for Turkmen, which is generally the same.
Day +50 at night +30 - this is, in fact, all the entertainment there.

The father, as a very intelligent man, of course, understood that a smart man never gets bored, but then even he gave up, admitted to himself as a fool and turned to the officers - his comrades in arms:
What do you do here after the service?
The officers looked at his father as a little boy and said:
We go to the lake and catch fish. What, did you not know?
What is? Is there a lake?
PS-S-R is of course there. Do you not know at all? It is not close, indeed, and not very large, but nothing, you can catch.
My father was never a special fisherman, but I did not have to choose, it was better to catch fish than to watch the thermometer.
He asked the comrades for three meters of hips, a hook and a truck, and he swung the float himself. He pulled off the visible guidance of the appropriate length of the rail and went to a distant, mysterious lake.
The lake was very small and excavator-creative.
A total of 5 meters in diameter.
On the shores sat very concentrated fishermen seven or eight people (from the lieutenant and to the major - the commander of the unit) they did not disconnect looking at their dead floats spinning out of clay water and rattled from the heat and the absence of clove.
My father said:
Hi, can you join me?
Major shrugged his hands:
What are you doing, Lieutenant? You scare the fish. Sit down, just be silent.
The new fisherman said, “It’s his fault,” he turned his railway and also sat down on the shore.
An hour passed and no one was seen.
The second passed, the same, and then the father whispered, carefully asked the neighbor:
Is there any fish here?
Yes, of course, otherwise we’t be here. Just talk less, she doesn’t like it.

The third, fourth hour passed, the father wanted to swallow the rails, as he suddenly knelt.
The newcomers are lucky, r-r-raz and over the water flew up a tiny shimmering tile.
The officers envyed with tongues:
It was the first time I caught the squid.
“Yes, it’s true, she’s been a snail, no one has caught a snail for a long time.

The father removed the unfortunate fish from the hook and thought, "What kind of squid is this? She is smaller than a pack of papyrus, and doesn’t look like it at all, but nothing, our barracks cat will be pleased with that too.”

He did not argue with the experts, but picked up a specially prepared three-liter bowl of muddy water, threw his catch there, quietly said goodbye to the society and went home.
A strange silence prevailed behind his back and finally the major said loudly:
“Comrade Lieutenant, I didn’t understand, but where did you go?
Go home, Comrade Major.
It doesn’t matter where you’re going, but why did you pull the squid away? We are hunting too.
So... A?
Did you catch a fish and go home with it? No, dear, here in the lake fish five pieces for all, put off, "Piranha" is no longer there, died. The result is four pieces (the major began to bend his fingers): “Lash”, then your “Shuck”, “Som” and “Shark”. Yes the four.
So get the squid back to the base before she’s also dead.

Since then, my father has been very busy fishing.