“For the removal of the wounded from the battlefield.”

Flight from Moscow to Vladivostok / South Sakhalinsk / Magadan / Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky takes 7.5 - 9 hours.
The whole flight is not always sleepy)), I usually work or watch movies.
During the last flight watched "Dear Comrades" with the magnificent Yulia Vysotskaya in the main role.
The film is about the events of 1962 in Novocherkassk, but it is not about it. According to the film, the main heroine was on the front, a carrier, a sanitary, wounded from the battlefield pulled out.
In this regard, I recalled

In 1983, after the fifth course of the medical institute, we had military fees. Every year, our university, 250 people from all faculties, were sent to the Volga steppes, to some division. According to the six-year-olds, there were "thousands of students, the sun is burning, in a tank with a compot can be put a straw, the humidity is high, any scratch begins to purify, worse than a month does not happen."
And then we, our base, were transferred to Chelyabinsk, to another division.
But something didn't work out, someone in the division didn't have time to prepare something and we were just taken to the Basque-Ural forests, alone. (The next year and then our university was already driving under Chelyabinsk).

Apartment owners put up floating tents, a barbecue for the kitchen, a barbecue for the dining room, a mushroom for the clock.
We came, dressed up, and ate dinner. Our students cooked, not a restaurant, but definitely better than the university dining room, and the addition has always been.
In the morning, sweaters, boots, pants, topless - running and loading. Breakfast and practical activities. After lunch, every day, all the charges are rain, which means an afternoon honest sleep. The sun was before dinner. After dinner and washing a personal boiler, cups, tablespoons in the nearest stream - football. somehow so.

The class.

Theory, OTC - organization and tactics of medical services.
For example:
You have 5 wounded on the field, you can bind 2. Who will you bind and whom will you leave? Why is?
There are 50 wounded in the hospital. Operate, before the emergency arrives, and you can save 5 people. How will you sort them? Why is? Who will you operate and who will you let die? Why is?
and so on.

The Practice.
For a couple of days to warm up, we linked each other different limbs and other places, made artificial breathing, dragged on supports from one corner of the field to the other. Hot but fun.
Two days later, the barracks were dug. (Well, the doctors are going to dig roofs???) Teachers specifically found a field of pure clay.
And then they began to "bring out the wounded from the battlefield" - we were broken into pairs and one joyfully collapsed in the sun, and the other must pull him to the barracks.
Our teacher major turned out to be an "Afghan": it was worth to raise your head while you slide to your "injured", as a major quietly so shoe your boots on the back of the neck - a slide! “You’re killed, pull up again.” It was worth kicking your ass up - on the four is faster and more convenient to move - you immediately on your ass with your heels from above - boom! “You are injured in your ass and you haven’t saved the wounded, start again.”
I then weighed about 75 kilograms, 182 heights, sports, not a puppy, but another bag of cement or a large bag of potatoes put on my shoulder and a quick step up the stairs or similar in a cargo car on the next shabash, and here a fellow student, some 60 kilograms of living weight together with boots and a machine - yes, I will now take him out of the "fighting field"!
Fuck it there.
A relaxed person weighs as much as one and a half times more, but he still needs to be bound, rolled over on a coat and dragged with a wool on the grass. I could not even imagine such a force of friction.
You will move a few centimeters for twenty, you will bend up with the letter zhu, so that the major will not get a booth on the shirt, you will knock the corner of the coat - and no shit, he does not move, shit. Rings, 5-10 centimeters, you will pull it up and again forward for 20 centimeters... to the rocks nearby, meters 7-8, the sun is hot, and in a couple of meters you are nothing but those centimeters do not consider.
But the full writer came to the exercise "evacuation of the wounded from the battlefield on himself."
First to supplement. Then somehow this unbearable begemot crash on your back. And how? I lie on my stomach, he lies on his back, stands, fucking, for an entourage, well, how can I pull him on my back?? to
Okay, somehow pulled, with the third or fourth attempt, the major watches that you don't get stuck, and that the "injured" doesn't help you.
And here I remembered Vysotsky - "we pull the earth with our teeth behind the stems, on ourselves, under ourselves, from ourselves."
You only weigh 60 kilograms, but if you press the whole surface of your body to the ground, you can’t move. at all. You have to stick to something and move forward.
Why to cling? For the grass. She cuts and cuts her fingers. After a few minutes of "climbing on the spot" and a couple of weak pinks from the major "do not sleep, the companion with blood runs out, now your shaking ass will be discovered by the enemy and shoot it" you, breaking your nails, shake the ground in an attempt to get stuck somehow and literally cling to the grass with your teeth so that you can at least a little stretch.

This is study. The peaceful sky. No one is shooting. You are a healthy guy. Around the "stones" of the wounded mixed with the mat and the hook.
Just an idyll.

As the girls-saninstructors tricked to pull on themselves under bullets and fragments of adult men...
How many lives have been saved.

A low tribute and eternal memory to all sanitary instructors and nurses.
You are heroes.