My grandfather, now the deceased, told this story about the smartness of a Russian man.
It was in the middle of the war, in March, where - I don't remember, but that's not the point.
Our and German units were caught up in battle, in the forest. The Germans went on, the Germans went on, and the Germans also.
While it was cold, the ice lay around and moved freely, and as it warmed up, the ice melted and the opponents were separated by dirt, water and mud.
Ours on one side, behind the hill, the Germans on the other, 200 meters away. You cannot get out of nowhere.
Everything would be fine, but only the field kitchens as usual in the oasis, and lag behind both ours and nothing too much. Both these and others had dry patches.
I don't know how the Germans, but our put everything together, and once a day brotherly divided them all. And so as not to be offensive, one turned away, and the other, pointing his finger to roughly equal pieces of bread, asked:
to whom?
The first answered:
- Ivanov
to whom?
Petrov
Is it to whom?
Siddhartha
and so on.
A few days passed. Both the Germans and ours ate all the supplies, and the hunger began.
Here our commander ordered us to continue to play a scene every night entitled: Who? by Petrov! This is? and Ivanov. To strengthen his spirit, and to suppress the enemy.
A few days later, the Germans raised a white flag and surrendered. Until one o’clock, without noise and shooting, the aces on the water on the dry side passed to our soldiers.
They surrendered and said, Russh, German, feed us prisoners.
Our friends laughed of course. The Germans did not laugh. They also turned out to be starving, and decided that since the Russians share food every day, you have to give up in order not to die of hunger.
A few days later it was cold again, and the kitchen was ready.
A great tribute to you, veterans! None is forgotten and nothing is forgotten.