I sit at home, half the twelfth time, from the street there is a noise, a scream, a whistle - and already 15 minutes continues. I look, waiting to see a column of armored machinery — and I see some jekovsky camass of orange color, which crawls through the street at the speed of a sleeping fly, voicing, grumbling and roaring. On the side of the shell blue paint is displayed "VIHR".