I read about the ignorant in the army. I don't know why, but it would seem that ordinary people in the civic, having entered the army, are in the center of incredible events, and themselves are offended by what is happening.
On this occasion, I remember (until now with tremors in the body) one fighter with whom fate had come together.
Our first meeting took place when I came to my new company for further service.
The crew was at classes, but from a distant corner of the barracks, some outsider voiced, listening, realized that it was a song, with the words: "I am a flying mouse, I am the horror of the special forces."
From curiosity, I went to the sounds to see this “horror of the special forces.” My expectations did not deceive me, it was really terrible. Something thin crumbled, thin legs wrapped in large boots, with ropes to the floor, the cowards and the carpenter were pronounced by the enemy fire, it was thought that the owner stole apples in the colloquial garden and the grandfather never missed.
I was still naive at the time, so I asked the senior to change the soldier in suitable clothes. The chief at first did not understand, saying - how good, this is the Negutin. But shaking his hand, without continuing to argue, he handed out whole cowards and a maika.
Having worn all this, the fighter proudly passed to a bunch of still unpicked garbage, sat next to him, and then the sound of rotting matter was heard, with horror in his eyes he jumped up and again the sound of rotting matter was repeated. It was a miracle when he sat down, with new cowards, the only one in the whole barracks pulling a nail from the wall, and when he jumped up, with the same nail he ripped the nail. I will not describe the universal sorrow in the eyes of the senior, who seemed to have specifically decided to see how much a whole garment would survive on this miracle.
Further, it was only worse, raised on the ideas of Marxism-Leninism, which denied magic even in Russian folk fairy tales, I found myself constantly in idiotic situations, explanations which can only be given by experienced scientists in the field of paranormal phenomena.
I was told to take him to the jump, but I stood up and after the jump, when I came to the place of the gathering, I saw a crowd of people looking up with interest, feeling bad too raised my head. And there is Negev. He tricked himself into the rising stream of air and, like a dwarf, rotated on one fifth, neither rising nor descending. Among the ways to help him, the already squeezed, pulled out the red, the bearer suggested with a good voice - can you shoot? Winnie the Pooh helped.

demonstrative exercises. From Moscow came, as we called them, another Pedrilo Lampasnoe, and he needed to demonstrate the heroic attack of Soviet soldiers on enemy defense.
The spectacle is really impressive. The BTR goes to attack like a thread, around a sea of pyrotechnics, and here is the apophysis, the BTR opens landing locks, and as in a movie, the warriors-liberators jump out of it, three in one direction, three in the other. It should have been so, because Nežutin came out and the Btra fish - stretched her leg on the lower door. Anyone who has been in the steppe knows that the steppe is a flat place, there are simply no stones to find. But for our miracle, there was the only valley in the steppe, which he hit with his head - having a double jaw fracture. For two weeks, they wrote an explanatory that no one beat him, because he himself.
At the final shootings, I was already experienced, and I did not allow him to use his weapons, the company shot out perfectly, and here, like a small fool, Nežutin approaches me and begins to reproach me that I did not allow him to shoot a combat ammunition in the whole service. What it was, I don't know, the eclipse somehow found, put his hand into the pocket of the pants without looking, pulled out the bullet, gave it to the sergeant, telling him to charge the machine himself, and was next to the generator of misfortune at the time of the shot. The sergeant with horror on his face fulfilled the order, with fear waited for a shot and breathed relieved. But it wasn't here, by the damn envy, the cartridge turned out to be a tracer, and a black spot began to spread in the place where the bullet hit (he did not naturally hit the target). Our poltergeist burned the steppe, and in the autumn in the steppe the grass turns into dust that burns like dust.
And the company, instead of returning to the barracks, for 2 hours in its entirety sealed the steppe, looking very friendly to me for some reason.
And then came the magical day, Dembele. The first was handed over by a soldier, and personally carried to the gate, so that God would not return.
I approach the barracks, and there is a young replenishment, and the senior pointing a finger at the recruiter with horror says - I don't know how his name is, but it's again Nežutin.
His feelings did not deceive him.