The younger brother (B) went to the army, writes...
B: There was rubbish in the first days.I still suck
I : what?
B: Chuvak, from our military committee... In Novocherkassk lives.
B: Crossing means pursuing the bushels. Everything has almost finished... He’s kind of too... He’s running there in ten layers of thread.
I: Oh
B: 3 hours he sat sewing, smoothed...Karoch on the dead seated... Clothes, and he has a pursuit on his back sewn))))))