The commander of our unit, Colonel Poltorabatko, was a typical personnel officer of the Soviet military school. Small in height, but shouldery and strongly shattered, at his fifty-two years, he easily ran with us on Saturdays a dozen crosses, coming to the finish one of the first. Usually on such a day he walked out on the doorstep of the barracks in a sports suit and announced with a loud rocky bass:
Paddles to build!
And after a few seconds, everyone stood up and looked at him with some fear. We were terribly afraid of him, for he was a man in his own right, and his hand was heavy. And he also had a Colonel's "Volga" chief, the driver of which was my root, the euphrator of Orehov, a penetrating pearl, with whom we agreed that Saturday to arrange for ourselves a little rest. In principle, we did not have any far-reaching plans, we only wanted to go to the cinema and buy halves with spices in the village gastronomy.
For this, they thought to hide me in the luggage compartment of the Volga, and after Orehov takes the colonel home, do all this. The Colonel's car was not checked at the KP, and it was only a quarter of an hour to the village.
They did so. As soon as the guard called the garage, I got into the trunk and Oreh picked up the car to the headquarters. As I hid, I heard the colonel, who was going to the car, talking, judging by the voice, with his secretary Olga Petrovna, who was sitting with him in his office. Before that, I spoke to her a couple of times when I carried a correspondence there. Olga Petrovna possessed a lush perhydrole headhead and a large chest, rising above the table by the ravelins of an inaccessible fortress. With us, the soldiers, she stood harshly and, taking the letters, only shrugged her head silently.

Opening the door, the colonel sat Olga Petrovna on the rear seat, after which, shortly bursting, - Free until tomorrow, - took the keys from the jumping Orehov and sat on the driver's seat. The nuts confusedly replied "yes", I in fear stumbled in the trunk like a mouse under the wreath and the car touched soon onto the track. Under the shocky tires, I occasionally heard the bass of the Colonel and the ringing laughter of Olga Petrovna.
Ten minutes later, we turned from the asphalt to some ground, and the car clearly smelled of a needle. Obviously, we walked into the woods that stood halfway to the village. For a while, the car trembled on an uneven road, then turned and stopped. In silence, the sound of the door opened and the back of the Volga slightly passed, from which I realized that Poltorabatko moved to Olga Petrovna. For a few minutes, a silent conversation was delivered from the salon, then everything shrunk for a short time and a little before me was delivered by their mutual arousal, leading to the most bold thoughts. And a couple of minutes later, Poltorabatko, apparently, went into a full-scale offensive and a light thunderstorm was heard from the salon in tune with the dissatisfied scream of Olga Petrovna. Probably, the colonel could not handle her socks, as a result of which he simply shrugged and broke them with his hands.
In response to her protests, the colonel again rushed into the attack, and soon the outraged cries of Olga Petrovna began to acquire some rhythm.
I barely breathed in the posture of a Pacific crab, convulsively guessing what awaits me in case of discovery, namely, our unit commander will cut me off or immediately on the spot and shoot me. For some reason, I turned to the last option.
The Colonel, meanwhile, as a babouin in the period of marriage, continued his difficult work in good faith. Just like in the cross, he chased the backward, counting loudly - once or two, the left! - he and here loudly counted his progressive movements - once, two, two, two! Every time it makes me shake and shake my ears.
But nothing, as is known, lasts forever, approximately five minutes after this action, the speed of the colonel's account increased noticeably, and the most responsible moment came when he cried out as Tarzan, and Olga Petrovna screamed.
The car was walking on the sidewalk, and I, in horror, sat even stronger in the trunk, holding my head and praying that the colonel would not open it out of need. Fortunately, they didn’t need a suitcase. There was silence in the cabin again, then the smell of cigarette smoke came, they talked a little more and we finally moved again.

The colonel first arrived at the house of the officer and landed Olga Petrovna, who lived there, then, rather swirling, passed a few more streets, parked at his house and left.
And I remained lying in my prison, trying at least somehow to shake up the tortured body and not to think about what awaits me next. And there was nothing good to expect, I was threatened, at least, by a hauptwachta, or something worse. And then, in the very moment when I was almost saying goodbye to my young life, there were voices, the sound of the opening of the castle...
In front of me, our colonel and his wife stood with bags in their hands.
Something had to be done urgently and I, not finding anything better, kneeled before them and, giving honor, boldly reposted:
This is the baggage baggage!
The Colonel’s wife whispered out of surprise, and Poltorabatko himself, having opened his eyes, stood on me like a ghost. Then, scrolling something in his head, he thoughtfully stumbled and, touching his wife, sneered:
Free to you, soldiers. Follow in the part, report to the officer that I have released you. Are you clear? “When I put the emphasis on the word ‘everything’,” asked the Colonel.
So exactly! - I shouted in response, got out of the luggage compartment and stepped back into the part.

I have to say that there were no punishments for this wolf then followed me, and Colonel Poltorabatko until the very dumbel when I saw me always smiled and whispered hiding a smile in his thighs.

by robertyumen