The German Road
My old, yet well-functioning refrigerator, I gave to an even older, but also still working old grandfather - our concierge. And man is pleasant, and I do not drag to the wash. The refrigerator is great, only the door is crashing. The old man studied the problem through his thick-walled glasses and quickly saw the ways to solve it:
- Here and here I will swing, I will twist the loop, I have the gates left. The door
It will be for the century.
My grandfather’s mood rose and for the first time in his life he wanted to talk to me about something more than “hello”:
- My son-in-law will take him to the village, to the Smolensk region. There we have as
The German road has become harder for the winter. Go through the sky... another.
There is no road to us anyway.

I don’t leave, I understand that the conversation needs a bit of support and I ask:
And why was the German Road built by the captives?
My grandfather smiled:
Of course the Germans built it, but not the Germans.
The prisoners.
When they in their forty-first pearls in their tanks on Moscow, our woods and broken. formed a medium. No way, but still a road. We’re driving it so far. She saved us little boys, at forty-six, from starving death.
How I saved?
And here is so. There is one difficult place - a turn from the oak and immediately into the
The gorgeous. Bitter small, but steep and in front of it after turning not
You will disperse. Three trucks passed a day, maybe four.
But every second was stuck on that rise in liquid dirt. The driver back.
Go ahead, nothing so much. So it wraps, looks around, torments with
Half an hour later, our band came in. Puppy - Years
Six by seven. All five people. We say, “Uncle, how do we get you out?
Do you drink dirt? »
If he was here for the first time, he laughed, not believing that we could help, but promised something, and what was not the first time, they immediately gave.
We clothed the whole crowd half Tuesday, crashed and so slowly on the very outskirts of it and pulled it out.
For the work they received: from whom an apple, from whom a cooked egg, from whom a papyrus. After that, the bulbs could be exchanged. Whatever they gave, honestly, they shared a little to the whole company. The hunger then was fierce, and we for the whole day, if anything on the German road to go, maybe even bring to my mom.
If the driver had nothing at all, he gave at least a picture with Marika.
Rick from the trophy magazine, we pulled him out anyway.
I remember coming home, from feet to head in dirt, only the eyes shine.
The mom defended.
Oh, we were lucky fools that we did not get caught then and our mothers were not transplanted for ten years for sabotage against the national economy.
What is diversity, what is diversity? On the contrary, you helped.
Remove the car from the dirt. A piece of bread, but all.
No matter. What is bad?
At this time, a woman with a wheelchair entered the entrance, the grandfather on a half-word instantly cut off, depicted a poster - "Don't talk - the enemy is listening" and began to wait while the mommy is digging in his mailbox.
Finally, the elevator silenced an unwanted witness, who could
"to knock" on the concierge in the NKVD and the grandfather continued, but was much quieter:
What to plant for? You are as naive as the drivers.
I was the oldest in the company, I was already ten.
Over the road hanged a thick branch, underneath it only a half-tork was placed. And on that branch I was lying and clinging to the truck body of the passing truck. The coaster was tied to the branch with a thick rope.
The tree wandered, dragged, I almost flew from it, but the car always boxed properly, and how much does it need? She barely slipped into the dirt. When the driver went out to see what was going on, I picked up the rope back, he in the cabin – I clinged again.
We were lucky that one day a truck broke the rope and took our feeder forever. Sooner or later, we would...

P.S

Rejoice my competitors and jealousy, and do not cry for me lovers of my stories, but this is my extreme story on this site.
I did everything I wanted here (in the sense of creativity and in the sense of first place in the ranking) Now your turn, thank you all and stay happy.

A special thanks to Karabas Barabas - Dmitry Werner.
Whoever misses my stories, I ask for mercy to me.

With respect Grubas