and revenge.

We spent three generations in a family home.
My father, my older brother and I have already moved to the stage of “talk/discuss/remember.” The female part of the family smoothly moved toward the kitchen "for men to cut down snacks".

And here is something we talked about vengeful people, about revenge in general. Father was quiet and in our dispute with Brother did not take part, but quietly looked out the window and smiled to some of his thoughts.

When we were exhausted, Batya looked at us, blinking, and told us a story. A little literally reworked story:

After the war it was very difficult. Our generation of people born in 1945-1947 was the most unwilling. is a joke! The country was in ruin! Electricity in our village was only in the evening and appeared in the 1950s. And so is everything with rays, candles, kerosene. The leaves were only wooden. The clothes were passed from the elderly to the younger, the old military gymnastics, the caliphs were tailored. Marines were very appreciated. Shoes were generally valued at the weight of gold - in the spring, summer, autumn, almost until December, children only ran barefoot.

The city is near us - through the crossroads of everything, but to get there only on foot or by car. Walking through the crossing is still fun, but we went! Where to go? Buy the crops.
In the gardens were mostly children - parents at work. Who is in the collage, who is in the wood-plate artillery, who is in the city in the factories or in the port.

I remember when there was a rumor in the village that there would be travels to a pioneer camp somewhere in Kabardinka. How I wanted to go there! Just bite! But my parents didn’t have six rubles for this trip... Yes, I was burning very hard at the time.

At this point, Batya looked at his grandson, who had previously played with the tablet, trying to make him a friend with his new smartwatches. Mishka after this Batin's gaze somehow confused and put the tablet aside. There was silence in the room – the whole family listened to Batin’s story and he continued:
I finished school in the city. Of course, he was a fool! According to accurate sciences, he was interrupted from two to three. In humanitarian terms, more or less, it was given easily. I was enthusiastic about swimming, I even got the KMS. But I didn’t want to study, hooligan! A rare council in the school passed without examining my jokes. There was no relationship with our director. I can’t say he hated me or anything. But if something happened at school, he always made me to blame. It was offensive. You know, I did things once and that’s it! They are growing like snow! I was forever behind a cane.

When school was finished, the director told me, “You’ll get the certificate in August!” I did not care then!
My classmates went for entrance exams to universities and technical schools, and in the summer after school, I walked, walked in the city, walked in the park, a company of friends came to us, some with criminal inclinations. have drunk. One day in July, in a beer bar near the port, we fought with the Greek sailors, the sailors of the dry cargo. As trophies, we got thirty rubles in money and a pair of clocks, which we drove on the swing. That’s where a story happened that affected my whole life and yours.
At the end of July, a police officer came home to us in the village, who brought me to the district department of the police, where I had a conversation with the chief of the police. Healthy such a man in blue shape, frontman, order planks on a whale. The nightmare in the office was like smoke! And the boss says to me:
The son! I have information that you have gone on the wrong path. Soon you’re going to go to jail! Look at what kind of family you have: the father is a frontman, works without laying hands, the mother is a striker in the colloquial, the master's brother is already in a ship repair factory, on a very good account, a sister in a school. And you? Shallowed!

I was surprised, of course, by his awareness, because I never had a deal with the police. He continued:

Why don’t you go anywhere to study? What is the matter?
I don’t even have an attest.
How not? You finished 11 years old!
I and the director of the school are not in good shape. He told me that the certificate will only be issued in August!
The police chief thoughtfully walked around the office and said quietly:
That is shit! Special certificate did not issue so that the boy did not go anywhere to study. Entrance until the end of July. One way for him – or a docker to the port, or to the prison.
And then I understood all the horror of the situation with obtaining the certificate. I understood the nature of our school director. And that anger is in me! If he hit me at that moment, he would break it in pieces.
The boss drove me out into the corridor. The police officers went in and out of the cabinet, the chief called someone on the phone, proved something, mocked. He was given some lists, tables. And I was sitting on a chair and thinking how stupid I was to allow such a situation as a goat the director of the school. He made plans for revenge. One worse than the other!
A few hours later, when I had finally fainted from sitting in the hallway, the boss called me into the office and immediately without preludes said:
We have a disarmament at one of the military schools. Now go to the military. They are waiting for you there. Come on, go on!
He did not react to my weak objections, just gently pushed out of the office, saying:
Go go go go! Military is waiting! Then you go to me for characteristics.

In the Military Command I was informed that I was given a direction for admission to the Military School of the Internal Forces of the ILO of the RSFSR and the entrance exams will begin at the end of August.
This is what? The police troops?? to
The soldier looked at me:
They are internal troops. It is not a militia. Look at me, don’t deceive me.
Over the course of two weeks, I passed several medical commissions, gathered the necessary documents, took my unfortunate certificate from school and was already driving in the company of seven candidates for admission to the school in the city of Ordzhonikidze.
I always dreamed of revenge on the director of the school.

Only eight candidates from our city enrolled in the school. very very! Imagine six hours of lectures every day, three hours of self-training, exercises, shooting, guard service. We received two specialties – an officer of the motor gun troops, with a special study of the specifics of the service of the internal troops, and jurisprudence. Studying was not bad – it is the army! Lectures on military disciplines were taught by the military, mostly by frontmen.
Legal disciplines were taught by civilian specialists – among them there were several young and beautiful women. How can we stand unprepared before them all? How to wash “I’m not ready”? We were taught how to fight – it was very interesting! The first half of the year I ended with a few four, and only excellences were allowed home on vacation. The second half of the year was completed on the evaluation “excellent” and for the successes in study and service I was awarded the first medal “20 years of Victory”. Thro my studies, I had plans to avenge the director. Even on the shooting field he represented his face at the spot of the target and hit there without fault! At the handball classes, I imagined throwing him over my shoulder, beating a hated face. Often my training rivals expressed me for excessive power of strikes.
My father was silent, probably experiencing that time again.
And then next? Brother’s silence was broken.
As in the cinema! Smiling, my mother said.
My father continued:
My first vacation was in the summer of 1965. I go home! Arrived on the perron of our seaside town - the uniform is squeezed, boots with a spark, a waschback with a raspberries seat is perfectly seated. And at the exit to the station square, right on the stairs, I encountered the director. He rushed to meet with two suitcases. I stood up with him on the way. He raised his head and pulled out one suitcase.
Are you? →! to
Cursant of the Ordzhonikidzevsky Red-Flag Military School of the Internal Forces of the ILO of the RSFSR. by Kirov. For success in school, he was awarded a leave. Welcome to Nikolai Leontievich!
The director looked at me from foot to head, stopping to look at the flower feather of the legendary NKVD and the solitary medal on my chest. I whispered:
The good guys came back, they didn’t. And thousands...
He spit under his feet, passed by me, something drum under his nose.

- Here is my revenge, - Daddy smiled, looked around us. At that moment, I realized that there was no reason to beat him, to build him. I just had to show who I was!
There was silence at the table. My mother stood up silently and went to the closet. I fixed a photo frame on the shelf, where two photographs were inserted next to it – Batya-cursant and Batya-colonel. I got a bottle of cognac, which was very careful:
For this story, you can drink a gram.