Dear friends!
One of my favorite holidays is Navy Day. When we celebrate it, we always remember something fun from our service. I want to share these memories with you.
To some extent I was a participant in the events that will be discussed, but it is impossible to call these stories memoirs. Let them be bikes. What is a fleet without a barrel?
The first bike –



Financial and International

It was a long time ago... We still lived in a big and friendly country. Our young lieutenant Zhorka married a beautiful Armenian woman. Sooner or later, it’s time to get to know a new family.
Armenia welcomed young people with traditional hospitality, the cleanest mountain air and, of course, cognac. From all this, Zhorka had such an evaporation of feelings that he was just flying, not walking. While they were wearing another delicious snack on the tables, someone from the many Armenian uncles of his wife invited Zhorka to the fresh air - to smoke. The men’s conversations were different, but suddenly one of the uncles asked, “George, and how much do you get a month?” Recalling that the commander of the submarine receives 900 rubles (that is, at the time with the normal salary of an engineer or worker of 150-170 rubles), and the commander of the squadron - more than a thousand, Zhorka issued: "950 rubles!". There was a tense silence in the air. The fierce, quickly sober, cooled: “Now they will understand that I lied and laugh...” After a tired pause, the uncles spoke to each other in Armenian. They shrugged their heads and breathed hard. He was waiting for a shameful sentence. Finally the uncles remained silent. The eldest of them approached Zhorka and, paternally pressing him to himself, said very gently:
“Well, George... No... Nothing... We’ll all help you...”



the household.

At one time, the chief of the political direction of our fleet was one of the finest gray-haired admirals, whom all, without exception, called Grandpa. He once held a reception on personal matters of family members of military personnel. Since these personal questions could be of any complexity, the reception was attended by the heads of various naval services, always ready to come to Grandpa's help.
In turn, the wife of one of our officers entered the office. The question was simple: housing. Instead of a one-bedroom apartment, she would like to have a two-bedroom apartment. Grandfather listened attentively to her, explained the complexity of the housing issue in the fleet and promised nothing. The lady said that she has a special case, and in response to the surprise of Grandpa explained that in the moment of closeness with her husband she behaves very loud and makes such sounds that the children wake up, scare and cry for a long time. My grandfather completely sweated even his glasses. He began to confusedly look at the sides, stumbled upon the head of the fleet's medical service and found nothing better than to ask the one: "A-a what, is it?" The apartment issue has been resolved.


The pharmaceutical.

The Atlantic. The boat runs to the basement. Fill up stocks, bathroom for personal staff and, of course, meetings of friends.
The mechanic from the Sanya boat ran to the float base to his friend mechanic Gene. In the cabin of Gena quickly formed a male collective man of 6-7, ready solemnly (without this it is impossible, people will not understand!) to mark this event. Gina shrugged almost instantly. And the law of wickedness works even far from the homeland. Gene urgently needed the commander of the float base, which was whisperingly by the dynamic of internal communication. Something had to be done urgently. Someone had pills for trembling. Gina swallowed it and drank it with water. Everyone was waiting for the result, which was achieved very quickly. Ginkgo turned into the laundry. Someone of the men said quite reasonably, “We need to do it again!” Genka, having carefully examined in the shell what was recently his snack, and the pill lying on top, suddenly made a puddle and drunkened: "I will not be again... She is blown!..."



The epistolar.

On the days of great holidays, representatives of the cities who headed over our boats came to us on the squadron. These were local party and Komsomol workers, artists, music and dance groups. From one ancient Russian city, there was a dance group consisting of girls who were distinguished not only by choreographic abilities, but also by a special love and affection for military sailors. Traditionally, all art representatives who appeared before the personal staff were awarded Honourable Grams with the idiotic formulation: “...for the aesthetic pleasure delivered...” It was also prepared for the women’s dance team. During the group’s speech, she was held in her hands by the chief of the political department sitting in front of me. After repeatedly reading the content of the letter, he very excitedly whispered to the ears of the commander of the squadron that the letter could not be handed over, it was a mistake. The commander, after carefully studying the text, returned the letter back and, somewhat strangely grumbling, said: "Nothing needs to be changed. It is right.” Through his shoulder I noticed that the word “esthetic” was missed.



The Musical.

The wind of change is blowing, the world is changing. We started, as usual, with external attributes: changed the flag, changed the emblem, and the anthem too. As far as the hymn was concerned, our Admiral was not aware, he was on vacation. Well, it happens, man is still.
And here, on some very solemn occasion, the solemn construction of the squadron - the squadron, the banner, the orchestra, on the tribune equipped with microphones - the command of the squadron. The orchestra sang “Glory.” Forgetting that the microphones are not turned off, the Admiral on the whole plate wonderingly asks, "This is what?" The head of the political department, standing next to him, begins to strike something about the new Russia, the flag, the anthem and the guarantor of the constitution. After a painful pause, the Admiral pronounces, “Your mother! We lived to Borkyna Polka!


and bureaucratic.

The commander of the base on any occasion overwhelmed the commander of the squadron with reports. Such an officer was an officer. The commander, receiving another message, was literally ready to explode, but was obliged to react. Evidently, he reached the limits of his capabilities.
I walked through the hallway of the headquarters, when from the offices of the commander jumped out a whole kind of scammed secretary, with a folder in his hands, who, when he saw me, complained, "And what should I do with this now?" And in the file was another crazy report of the commander of the base. Signature and resolution of the Admiral. Signature as a signature: date, military rank, surname, initials. And the resolution was an artistically impeccable drawing by the finest platinum pen of the Admiral Parker. The drawing with all the smallest details, with all the applications and cushions, depicted male dignity.



Tropical Medical.

On the same day, two lieutenants came to serve on the same boat: Lecha, a specialist in mines and torpedoes, and Sanya, a physician. This circumstance, as well as the fact that the service, especially at its beginning, is rarely honey, brought the young officers closer together. Their relations were friendly, and for Leha they also had practical benefits. The fact is that he had some special weakness to drugs, and Sani had enough of them.
One day in the expedition, Sanya was sitting at his house with the most troubled feelings, as he had just received a reminder from the commander. No matter what, there was a reason. At that moment, Lecha fell into him and began to crack something. Sancha thought of his own and did not listen. Suddenly Lecha noticed a tube with the ointment "Finalgon". I have to say that this is a terrible remedy for radiculitis. It causes a feeling of attached to the body of hot broken, and when trying to wash only enhances its action. Naturally, Lecha was interested in what kind of diseases this thing was. Sanka, immersed in his thoughts, whispered: “From hemorrhoids.” Leha immediately remembered his terrible hemorrhoids and began to ask for this ointment from Sanky. He whispered silently.
After some time, one of Lehi's subordinate sailors ran to Sanka and very excitedly that the commander urgently demanded Sanka to come to them in the compartment, because the commander of the group had "shaken." Sanka grabbed the package with the medications and ran, on the go, realizing that Lecha had recently been with him and everything was okay with him.
At the entrance to the department, the entire command of the boat was gathered, the commander with the deputy in turn looked inside, but they clearly did not decide to enter there. The commander, seeing Sanka, revered and said, “Well, let’s, it’s on your part.” Sanka walked into the compartment and saw the following picture. Absolutely without pants, he was sitting on a torpedo. His stripped face expressed incredible suffering, tears flowed from wide open eyes, the nails of convulsively compressed fingers crushed the torpedo. When the metal under it was heated, Lecha, quickly crawling his buttocks, flooded into a cold area. For a moment his face acquired a peaceful expression.


Congratulations to everyone on the holiday!