The commander of the 201th brigade of anti-submarine ships caperang Mikhail Leopoldovich Abramov (in the people - Leopardych) was a creature of evil and petty. Although he grew up later to the Chief of Staff of the Navy and three-star Admiral. He himself liked to say about himself, "I am not evil, just evil and my memory is good."
He had a remarkable ability to turn any meeting, any “running flight” and any “five-minute” where he dominated, into an endless chewing of the sins of the subordinates. The sins of real, imaginary and them, Leopardych, suspects. To get so tired that everyone has already forgotten what they gathered for. But everybody from such an event must have gone out in all holes.
On one of the beautiful autumn days of 1995, the large anti-submarine ship "Admiral Panteleev" entered the sea to deliver an artillery task.
For Panteleyev, the task was repeatedly complicated by the fact that all the shooting leadership had just entered its positions. The new was the commander of the missile artillery BCH-2, and although he served on the same ship as a combat for almost six years, but was by origin not an artillery, but quite the opposite - a rocket officer.
And the artillery combat, that is, the one to whom the pedal of the ballet was directly pressed, was an entirely green lieutenant who barely got out of Kaliningrad’s “unnamed ballerina.” Our westernmost naval school was so named because all decent institutions were named by someone’s name, and only Kaliningrad did not receive such an honor.
In the Navy, such lieutenants are said to be "only from the tree." For him everything was the first time: the Far East, the Pacific Ocean, the sea exit, combat shooting. And he also had the absolute confidence in his own strength and skills, which was inherent in all lieutenants, although he was taught, as in all Soviet schools, what was removed from the arms long before his, lieutenant, was born.
And then Leopardych stopped half an hour before leaving the steamboat, although he did not gather, and nobody was waiting for him. And, of course, when the ship approached the border of the field, it called on the ship's leadership to "fastly give the last instructions." And, of course, these brief instructions, as usual, flowed into a long and tumultuous chewing of the last, pre-last, and all previous sins of the commander, commander, and commander of BP-2.
And in the meantime, you know, the ship is floating. And a lieutenant-combat somewhere at a depth of three meters below the waterline, on his combat post, knocks a pipe and waits for a command. Meanwhile, the fire department is gradually moving into the blind sector. And Mikhail Leopoldovich entered the railway, and he overwhelmed the ship's chiefs. And you won’t say to the entire commander of the division, “Dumb! Now the polygon will end, you will have to unfold, and re-introduce all the amendments to the art system!"
And this is when Leopardych arrived before the marines on Panteleyev in general, and in BCH-2 in particular clean the shoes and repair the skins - babahnulo.
Everyone was muted. jumped out on the walkway. They see an interesting and easily explained picture. The second tower, from the cannon of which the fresh smoke winds, looks, as is appropriate, to the side, to the side of the field. The first tower looks nowhere. That is, it stands in its starting position and targets the course of the ship. But the smoke from her rifle also blows right. Since the lieutenant was taught on those systems that were removed from service in 1965, he simply did not synchronize the towers with the new system.
Here, of course, under the arms of Leopardych (“You can’t even shoot normally, fools!”) everyone rushed to the monitor of the locator. Let’s see what’s in front of us, where the 100-millimeter combat projectile flew. In front was the land, and the coastal village of Romanovka. True, it was 25 kilometers before, while the maximum range of the AK-100 according to documents was 21,500 meters. Everyone was exhausted.
The lieutenant-combat was pulled out of the ship's subsoil for a warm whip, and given to eat the Leopardyche. They shot quickly and went home.
At home, in Vladivostok, the ship on the wall was awaited by a pale brigadier. He had already had time to call from the regional administration of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, and with a stealthy voice asked, did not accidentally the brave sailors have any shots? Since the shootings were planned, the division guard immediately turned on the fool, and promised to connect with the comedian as soon as he appeared.
connected with the compound. During the conversation between the two colleagues, an interesting thing emerged. If none of the navy accidentally burned on Romanovka, then the brave militia is drawn up a real and solitary terrorist act with all the consequences. Although nothing terrible happened - the bath with an explosive wave broke, and the bull, peacefully chewing the grass, a direct hit. They reached a consensus: not to start panic on the globe, eliminate the consequences by the crew.
Further, the ship's commander listened to a brief (for a clock) lecture from Leopardych in the flagship cabin about the lieutenant butters shooting the bulls from 25 kilometers away. On the ship at this time were gathered "unhandy" sailors who could hit the nail, the supplier was sculpted on a hose and a condensate, and the starper pretended how much to take alcohol with him. With a monthly ship rate of 236 kilograms, any self-respecting starter always has a barge of at least half a ton. The only question was how much would be needed?

The delegation arrived in the village. The sailors restored the rotting bath and filled the wreath of the epicenter, which came to the outskirts of the village. The grandmother, the owner of the innocently killed bull, was immediately given "for moral damage" to the bull's weight and the bull's weight without measure. But most importantly, they gave out 10 liters of alcohol – and here it began...
Having learned that the sailors had brought alcohol, the whole village broke up to collect the shards of the projectile and shake out the windows in their cellars. With these fragments, local residents arrived at the starpome with a demand for satisfaction in liquid form. “And the bull-something Anufrievna we already loved, as we loved!” – it sounded from all sides.
Starpom beast, seeing the alcohol stocks melt, but could do nothing. The instructions from the commander before the departure were extremely brief and clear: “If at least one blade ever, at least somewhere...” So all eight 40-litre bidons and split. A long celebration began in Rome.
You ask, what did you do with the lieutenant? He hasn’t been a lieutenant for a long time. He is already a captain of the first rank and head of staff of the 201th Division of anti-submarine ships of the Pacific Fleet. And it was with him that I agreed first to visit the Admiral Tributs by Moscow journalists, and then to visit the Omsk Avangard together with Mr. Rzhiga on the Marshal Shaposhnikov (because my Panteleyev was both times on combat service).
Only the chief of staff in the division is called "Sniper". Almost no one knows where that name came from. Twenty years have passed... Since then, no one has managed to roll a bull with a 100-millimeter fusible projectile directly from 25 kilometers.
Are you weak?

Maxim Lebedev