Annotation:
Inspired by watching demonstration performances in one brigade …
In connection with the rapid development of technical progress and no less rapid (but very protracted) reform of our valiant Armed Forces, computers began to appear in the army environment.
Computers were mainly used as typewriters.
And in even greater numbers, officers began to appear - graduates of universities (they are two-year students - two-gadgets).
Graduates, too, were mostly used in headquarters as “fetch and serve,” “print something,” “don't get underfoot,” and “what have you done, moron?”.
In one valiant spetsnaz brigade, which fought either for the right to be called “spetsnaz”, or for the right to be called a “brigade”, the above components (computers and university graduates) were fully present.
But one day an individual who did not fit into the surrounding harsh army reality appeared at the checkpoint.
If you look closely, it was a young man, by all indications - a male.
But the person on duty at the checkpoint did not particularly scrutinize, and mistook him for a girl who had arrived to see some soldier and give her beloved either homemade pies, or no less home venereal disease.
Since during the briefing of the daily order, the Deputy Chief of Staff of the brigade explained very lucidly:
Yyy blinking, Petrenko! I won't look, you're already a double bass. God forbid, what kind of women will hang around at the checkpoint -
I will rot in the stoker!"
Therefore, Sergeant Petrenko, seeing an incomprehensible long-haired creature with earrings in his ears and jeans rolled up to his knees, without thinking twice, barked:
- Well, blah, march from here! Visiting day is Saturday!
The human being jumped in place and swore at the sergeant in a rough, masculine bass.
The sergeant decided that transvestites had attacked the checkpoint and called for help in the person of his assistant and, covering the rear just in case (but you never know, that suddenly this incomprehensible creature is a lover of courageous sergeant asses?), Rushed into the attack.
The attack was drowned when an unknown person presented a bunch of documents, including an order for service in this unit.
They did not enroll the unknown in the lists of enemy spies, they phoned the headquarters and very soon (three hours later) they still managed to contact the chief of the combat unit and report a new officer who was eager to serve.
The youthful major (chief of the drill) sighed sadly and asked to see the newcomer to him.
The registration procedure did not take much time, and a civilian who suddenly felt like a lieutenant was introduced to the brigade commander.
The brigade commander at the sight of a long-haired and staring-eyed subordinate became terribly cheerful, and with jokes and jokes (praising and singing odes to the personnel officers) he fell into a stupor and waved his hand sadly.
The two-year lieutenant was accommodated in an officer's hostel in a room with two "career" lieutenants, who had also recently arrived at the unit.
Graduates of the Ryazan and Novosibirsk schools, graciously accepted the appearance of a new neighbor and began to lead the "jacket" to a "normal battle".
The boy was shaved off his head, rings and earrings were taken out of his ears and elsewhere.
He mastered the process of sewing collar collars perfectly well, although it caused some difficulties, especially when sewing a winter pea coat.
The high-top boots delighted him.
He lamented that instead of a "cool bandana" with skulls on his head, they put on a shapeless camouflage cap.
However, the boy turned out to be grasping, and, having spied some secrets from his "personnel" friends, with the help of a wire and an iron, he brought the cap into a more or less tolerable form.
The presence of a military department at the institute that graduated a two-year lieutenant testified that this comrade was a complete layman in military affairs, especially in drill training.
The lieutenants explained who should be given the military salute, and who should be reprimanded for not giving it.
During the briefing, the lieutenants, slightly twisting their hearts, made a small change in the oral presentation of the "Military Regulations".
As a result of this change, a new lieutenant for two weeks was giving a military salute to his roommates, switching to a marching step and loudly greeting his friends in a loud voice.
Then, of course, he wiped himself off and ceased to amaze the people around him with shouts like "Zdra Zhela … t-sh lieutenant of the Special Forces".
Accordingly, the lieutenants trained their ward in affixing for the position, for lifting, for receiving the first salary and much more.
As a result, the newcomer a month later became his own on the board, stopped asking for hamburgers and Cola in the "Chipka", and his body, accustomed to beer during the years of his student life, changed to stronger drinks.
Now the young lieutenant was imposingly flailing along the part, calmly filling up the assigned tasks, very sensibly explained the reason for the failures and roared loudly at the servicemen at the call "Kuddaaa are you abesian?"
The lieutenant underwent a training course, "boldly and courageously" made a jump from a helicopter, after landing he got a spare wheel in his ass, received permission from his neighbors to wear a vest and a beret.
During the shooting, he enthusiastically shot at targets, and after the completion of the shooting, loudly declare: "Halva - sucks!" (“Half-Life” - computer shooter)
All of the young lieutenant returned to normal, he had only some addictions such as craving for the Internet and network toys, which, however, did not interfere with his duty.
Just a little more - and he would have become an ordinary military man.
However, by chance, walking through the headquarters with a bunch of some documents, he came across the commander.
The lieutenant knew that when meeting with the authorities, it was best to make a dull face and escape as quickly as possible.
He managed to perform only procedures with a face.
The brigade commander, seeing the "jacket", grinned, and wanted to "love" the poor fellow for something.
However, for some reason he changed his mind.
- Hey, Lieutenant! You are kind of friends with us, aren't you?
- No way, fucking … Colonel! I am friends with the lieutenants from the first battalion.
- Are you an idiot?
- Yes sir! May I go?
The brigade commander became furious and briefly explained to the lieutenant what he wanted from him.
Everything turned out to be not so scary.
By some miracle, a batch of computers entered the brigade.
And recently at the Military Council at the District Headquarters, the Commander spoke favorably about the radio engineering brigade, in which they not only played "Minesweeper" on computers and counted official salaries, but also engaged in some extremely useful activity.
At first nothing came to the head of the spetsnaz brigade.
Seeing the packaging of computers, the thought came to my mind:
- "Wow! Here's a docha new computer (computer) will be delighted!"
And now, having seen the lieutenant-jacket, the brigade commander dazzled himself with the idea that computers can not only be handed out to the offices of the chiefs of services and departments, but something worthwhile can be invented.
Moreover, in a few months "distinguished guests" were expected on professional holidays.
The lieutenant at first did not understand what they were trying to explain to him.
Then I realized that.
He did not think for a long time and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
- And let me make you a net, comrade colonel!
- What the fuck is your network for me? I love hunting … - replied the commander.
The lieutenant spent twenty minutes explaining about the computer network and the advantages that the brigade headquarters and all kinds of services can get.
The colonel wrinkled his forehead and gradually realized that documents in electronic form could be thrown from computer to computer, corrected, verified, verified, and so on and so forth.
And there is a lot more that can be done …
The commander liked the idea and, having gone to his office, immediately summoned to him: the chief of staff, the chief of communications, the chief of the protection service of all kinds, including state secrets, the special counterintelligence officer, the chief of the finance and the chief of the canteen.
The head of the canteen arrived first and hatched in surprise at the brigade commander.
- What do you want, ensign? - asked the brigade commander.
“I don’t know, Comrade Colonel,” the bewildered ensign replied.
“You don’t know shit forever,” the colonel shouted for formality.
Then, realizing that the head of the canteen would be of little use to create a computer network, he sent him home.
The ensign was offended by the commander's tactless behavior.
He wandered into his household, made a mistake out of annoyance and diluted the apple juice intended for the dinner tables of the military personnel with the same apple juice (instead of ordinary water).
At the meeting with the brigade commander, quite a few copies were broken.
Guardians of secrets began to defend state interests, however, under the pressure of the commanding power, they broke down and began to look for ways to fight the still undeclared "spy hackers".
The chief of the financial unit meekly hinted to the brigade commander that, they say, when throwing funds on "incomprehensible networks" - you might not get a bonus for the savings at the end of the year.
However, the brigade commander rested.
They called the lieutenant-"jacket" and puzzled by tomorrow to make a list of the necessary personal belongings to create a network.
The chief of communications, an old lieutenant colonel, quietly dozing in the corner, woke up and asked to go to the toilet.
The chief of staff put forward a very sensible idea, thus proving that Frunze Academy does not give a "blue diploma" for nothing.
NSA proposed to create a freelance automation department.
Appoint as the head of the department one of the assistants to the chief of communications, a two-year-old lieutenant, simply appoint some employee as an adjuster of the automated control systems (automated control systems), and for a bunch of them appoint some of the employees of the secrets protection department there, and give a couple of intelligence officers of the communications staff who will be picked up lieutenant.
On that and decided.
"Vigilant" after the meeting rushed to the phones to report on "new channels" of leakage.
The financier, in deep economic thought, closed himself in his "Euro-renovated" office.
The next morning after the formation, the brigade commander decided to test the lieutenant for proficiency and handed him his cell phone.
Within a couple of minutes, the biennial student figured out the "miracle of Chinese mobile telephony": he set up WAP and GPRS, showed how the infrared port is turned on and what it is intended for.
He also explained to the brigade commander that Bluetooth is not a curse, but a very useful thing in the phone.
The colonel was pleased and gave the go-ahead.
The work of the newly baked department has begun.
First, the lieutenant walked through the communications units and found a couple of signalmen suitable in terms of intelligence and knowledge.
Here we had to fight a little, because all the more or less computer-versed soldiers were involved as staff workers, clerks and other "useful persons".
However, with the help of the brigade commander, all personnel issues were quickly resolved.
Measurements, inspections and checks were carried out, and an estimate was drawn up.
Money was required only for cables-connectors, all sorts of switches and hubs, as well as other relatively inexpensive crap.
The application was drawn up and submitted.
The chief financial officer, reluctantly, wrote out bonuses for the employees of the newly created department and several more "stray" officers.
The brigade commander approved.
The lucky ones who got into the list of "prize-winners" with sour faces lined up at the cash register, signed the lists and swore through teeth …
After a week of hard work by all officials, the network began to function.
The "vigilant" ones called their superiors, the more vigilant superiors were silent.
The head of the automation department, without doing a damn thing and learning that he was the "boss" literally a day before the launch of the network, actively got involved in the work: first he messed up, then calmed down, and as a result received gratitude.
The brigade commander was blissful.
Everything worked!
And nothing broke !!!
The network cable was neatly laid in plastic boxes along the walls and did not interfere with anyone, the connectors (computer connectors) were well crimped, and the HUBs and SWITCHES (switches) winked mysteriously with green lights.
In a separate room reclaimed from the commandant of the headquarters, behind an iron door and barred windows, a server room (central computer post) was organized, where the lieutenant sat with his soldiers.
They tried not to let the assistant chief of communications close to the computers.
The fighters, immediately recruited by the "vigilant" for the first couple of weeks, now and then snooped around all the rooms where computers were installed, showed, told, explained, eliminated.
Gradually, everyone got used to it, got used to it and no longer imagined how they used to live without these very new information technologies.
The brigade commander appreciated both the work of the "automators" and his idea, and therefore sometimes flaunted phrases like:
- "So! And the suitcases to share their folders (to allow access) by tomorrow morning …"
Oddly enough, with the advent of the computer network, the staff of the headquarters became more diligent in their workplaces, stopped "disappearing" for all sorts of incomprehensible reasons.
Sometimes the commander walked around the workplaces and was surprised to find those officials who, before the appearance of the "grid" at the headquarters, was difficult to find on the spot.
Officers and warrant officers stared enthusiastically at the monitor, moved, pressed buttons with their mice.
At the sight of the brigade commander, they clicked buttons on the keyboard and cheerfully introduced themselves, reported that they were executing such and such a document and was about to present it.
The brigade commander grinned contentedly and threw:
- "Throw on the grid in my folder" - and then impressively deleted.
In fact, everything was much simpler.
The biennial lieutenant put the entire staff of the headquarters on "Counter-Strike" (computer shooter).
Online battles unfolded in the morning and lasted endlessly.
The officers in the formations whispered: "How did I 'carry you out' (killed)? From the machine gun (machine gun) right in the window?"
The Chief of Staff roared at the whisperers and called everyone to silence.
The colonel himself chuckled softly.
He, as it seemed to him, secretly from everyone, often participated in network games in a team of terrorists under the call sign "Ivan Dulin" and was very skilled at placing land mines.
Only he sometimes wondered why the automated lieutenant, seeing NSh, shouted to someone to the side:
- "Why is it, Mikhalych! No wonder I had a dream yesterday about a chamomile field and red trousers …".
For a lieutenant sitting all day in the server room, calculating the computer and its owner by the iP-address was like two fingers on the parade ground.
Only the deputy commander for educational work hated the computer network.
There were reasons for that.
When the teacher-officer got a computer, he decided to master all the wisdom on his own and began to randomly climb through network folders and open everything.
As a result of convulsive mouse clicks and erratic button presses, the deputy for educational ended up in a shared network folder of the brigade commander and came across an album with photographs from some brigade celebration.
Opening the photograph showing the entire heroic leadership team, he managed to open the photograph in a graphics editor and, finding electronic pencils and brushes on the toolbar, smiled wickedly.
As a result of the arts of the newly-minted computer designer - the brigade commander got monstrous glasses and a Negro hairstyle "a la seventies", the brigade commander's wife had a wonderful pink mustache and beard, and the rest had bruises, cowboy hats and other "highly artistic" nonsense.
The teacher neighing to his best, and closing the photo pressed without thinking on the pop-up button "YES" in the window with the question "Save changes?"
The brigade commander was terribly surprised.
If sometimes strange windows popped up with inscriptions like "net send 192.168 ….. hello old fart", the lieutenant-automatist easily explained this by the presence of a virus on the computer, which he immediately eliminated.
But the spoiled photograph was clearly the work of human hands.
Only the deputy for educational remained undesigned, so it was a matter of three seconds to calculate the impudent person.
The educational genius had a pale appearance, but firmly stood on the fact that he was not in business, and computers are evil, and a computer lieutenant should be driven out of the Armed Forces. However, if the lieutenant was kicked out, he would only be glad.
On the occasion of the professional holiday and the arrival of distinguished guests, they decided to stage a performance.
As usual, they decided to show a spetsnaz "show" of hand-to-hand combat and, as a culmination, a demonstration to free some "strategic" object captured by a conventional enemy.
All officers who had experience in such events were immediately mobilized and puzzled.
The conscripts were involved in hand-to-hand combat: despite the transition to a contract army, conscripts were still admitted to the brigade.
At the time of the holiday, they announced an "Open Doors Day" and therefore expected the arrival of all kinds of committees of "nulliparous mothers".
The most experienced and attractive contract soldiers, excellent combatants and public-state training, veterans of military operations in Ichkeria, dear to the heart, were selected to show the raid.
This time, the show promised to be enchanting.
For the spectacularity of the raid, we decided to add a little airborne assault theme. The airborne service officers pulled rope slides from the roof of the training building - slipways, passing over the parade ground and ending at the stadium.
According to the plan, part of the special forces should represent a parachute landing and enter into battle from the sky, firing in all directions and knocking down the enemy when landing. First, the slipway was tested on a mass and size model of the "Ivan Ivanyche" man, who was listed on the lists of the airborne service.
The scarecrow was thrust into the PST (parachute system simulator) and pushed off the roof.
"Ivanych", waving his arms, swept over the parade ground and crashed in the middle of the stadium.
We tightened something up, tweaked it, made the descent to the end of the cable slide more gentle at the end with a slight rise.
Since there was only one scarecrow for the entire brigade, and it was a pity for him, a warrant officer-instructor was launched for a second check: there were much more of them.
The ensign landed nimbly.
The tests were carried out successfully and they began to run up the hill to train the fighters. The contractors merrily firing from their submachine guns shouting "Huyaseeee" flew over the place of formation and the hand-to-hand fighters training below, bringing the Deputy Chief of Staff for Security of the Military Service and Service of the Troops to white heat.
The Automation Lieutenant received a special task.
The brigade commander decided to comment on all the speeches himself.
Microphone or loudspeakers are obsolete.
The colonel wanted to move freely around the parade ground, give orders and so that his voice thundered from everywhere.
The biennial student said: "Easy, Comrade Colonel!"
Through his civilian comrades, the lieutenant took out two hidden-wearing "bluetooth" telephone headsets.
A laptop was installed behind the podium with the "blue-port" turned on, a powerful subwoofer was connected, speakers with an "awesome amount of watts" distributed in the corners of the parade ground.
The exact same system was installed at the stadium.
Have tried it.
It worked, and how!
The voice rushed from all sides, flew to the stadium and fell from somewhere above.
The beauty!
A couple of days before the start of the show, the brigade commander instructed his immediate deputy to conduct a dress rehearsal in order to identify inconsistencies and shortcomings that can be eliminated on the spot.
In the evening, the filthy autumn rain grew overgrown.
And in the morning it froze, the parade ground was covered with a thin crust of ice and gleamed merrily in the rays of the dim sun, which occasionally peeped out from behind the clouds.
The lieutenant with his fighters quickly set up the sound system and ran to the deputy's office to hand over the headset and explain the procedure for use.
Subdivisions of the brigade began to slowly roll out onto the parade ground.
The special forces involved in the ostentatious raid disguised the imitation at the stadium and infuriated the head of physical training and sports.
The hand-to-hand fighters painted each other's faces in camouflage colors and straightened knee pads and other hidden protective gizmos under their pants.
A lean deputy brigade commander jumped out of the headquarters doors with a brisk marching step and stomped to the place of construction.
The personnel of the units froze in mute delight.
The brigade commander entered the parade ground, cheerfully looked around the entire army and barked:
- "Brrrigada Equal!"
After a loud command, the deputy stumbled, slipped and, having crashed onto his back, deftly rolled out to the middle of the parade ground.
Apparently, the officer accidentally pressed the "transfer" button on the headset and therefore a
- "Fucking curling like that?"
Rolling into the middle, he got on all fours, then carefully straightened up - waved to the Chief of Staff and disappeared behind the podium, at the same time swearing the summer sitting behind the podium and giving him the headset.
It should be noted that on this day in the garrison there were several cases of personnel injuries due to icy conditions.
In a nearby motorized rifle regiment, an old captain even broke his leg, as a result of which an investigation was carried out.
The captain was reprimanded, and the commander of the motorized rifle regiment issued an order for each soldier to have a bag of sand with them for sprinkling the icy routes.
By this, the regiment commander proved that after all, in the same Academy of Frunze, "gold medals" are not given in vain.
But back to our heroes.
The Chief of Staff cautiously walked into the middle and gave the command:
- The first and second battalions, in five minutes on the parade ground with harvesting equipment!
At twelve zero-zero formation in the same composition!"
The people walked briskly to the barracks humming various marching songs.
Several shortcomings immediately emerged.
Firstly, a specially trained person should sit on the sound broadcasting installation and work as a sound engineer, not broadcasting all sorts of interjections and sudden manifestations of delight on the air.
Naturally, this honorary post went to a two-year student.
There were also a couple of minor flaws.
After cleaning the territory, we continued.
It turned out that everything was fine, even fine, but the brigade commander, who was present at the second show, decided that it would be nice to use the orchestra for the entourage and solemnity.
Not bad, not bad, but the orchestra relied on the brigade only in case of war.
There were trumpets and drums in the club, but no one knew how to play them.
Here the commander again showed ingenuity:
- And why the heck to us computer people? Come on, lieutenant, figure something out!
- Comrade Colonel! I can "Fifty Senta" on the piano - said the flattered lieutenant.
The brigade commander sang pensively under his breath:
- "Tatat ta ta ta ta tatat", then came to his senses:
- Blah, lieutenant! You still have to perform Tupac for me! We need military marches!
The deputy head of the educational department immediately interrupted:
- Comrade Colonel! We must drive him! He always turns on the tupac! How long can this impudence be tolerated?
The deputy was reassured, and the lieutenant promised to rummage through the tapes in the club records or search the Internet.
By evening, there were some pretty decent entries.
The lieutenant digitized them, corrected them, mixed the sound, and cheerful marches rang out over the brigade, drums rumbled.
They did not stop there, and from the material support company they selected younger ensigns: to play the role of military musicians.
The most stately and mustachioed warrant officer from the platoon was appointed as the conductor, puzzling him to make a conductor's baton.
At the next rehearsal, the ensigns were dressed in full dress.
The pipes were polished and the drums repaired.
The ensign-conductor had the most natural rod.
Where did the rod come from - this secret was shrouded in darkness.
However, in the same neighboring motorized rifle regiment, the head of the orchestra was reprimanded for appearing in the service while intoxicated and for the loss of state property.
How the orchestra sounded !!!
The ensign cheerfully waved his baton, amateur musicians puffed out their cheeks, drummers twirled sticks in their hands.
Everything was clearly rehearsed in time and looked just great from the outside.
On the day of the celebration, the automated lieutenant was terribly uncomfortable.
No, he was absolutely not worried: just the roommates brought some girls and brought several bottles of vodka.
However, he already had some experience of service and a two-year-old, suffering terribly from a hangover and breathing to the side - was in the workplace in the morning and launched a stormy activity.
The sound system was adjusted and tested.
The lieutenant put on the second headset on himself, and the first copy on the brigade commander.
The brigade commander on the "amber" emitted by the lieutenant did not pay any attention, for he himself was in the same condition (the distinguished guests arrived yesterday and "rushed into battle" from the train).
All the speeches that the commander had to make, the lieutenant threw the brigade commander onto a pocket computer, put the Govorilka reading program into the "handheld" and set the computer to slow speech.
The commander had to just loudly and with feeling repeat what the computer slowly whispered to him through the earpiece.
Progress!!!
No paperwork !!!
The hand-to-hand fighters, dressed in brand new camouflages and unloading, were straightening camouflage bandanas, pulling up their fingerless gloves and getting terribly nervous.
The chief of physical training, who directed the first part of the performance, ran from one fighter to another and tried to calm everyone down with fatherly kicks.
The scouts participating in the demonstration raid were finishing the equipment of the stadium for the performance.
The chief of the engineering service was laying the imitation charges and, together with the soldiers, pulled the wires.
The "trick" was supposed to be an imitation of the bursting of bullets on the ground.
At a distance of thirty centimeters from each other, in different directions, they dug in a bunch of electric detonators and led wires from them to the simulation control panel.
On the console there were several planks with nails driven into them, and to which a line for detonating the detonators was connected.
For closing, a metal bar with a wire from the battery terminals was used.
As soon as a bar was drawn over the nails, the chain was sequentially closed, the detonators burst, throwing out fountains of earth and created the complete illusion of bullets bursting.
The special forces, who portrayed the enemy, wore bulletproof vests under the uniform, on which they sculpted bags with tomato juice and all sorts of entrapment.
Electric detonators with a weakened charge were also thrust into the bags, and the closing wires were brought out to the fingers.
To close them, it was enough to interlock the fingers.
Safety requirements were shamelessly violated, but the beauty and reliability of the raid demanded that.
Moreover, all the charges were carefully calibrated both by the brigade chief of the engineering service and the chief of the weapons service.
And all the best specialists were involved in this case.
Just in case of emergency, an ambulance with doctors was on duty near the stadium.
The brigade commander, from whom many special effects were concealed, nevertheless obliged all participants to wear protective glasses during a showy battle.
They did not argue: safety comes first.
And instead of glasses, the local paintball club rented wonderful plastic masks.
Disposable grenade launchers became the top of the art of engineering.
The engineer stuffed condoms inflated with lighter gas into the used tubes.
They put a small firecracker inside, and attached batteries and small toggle switches to the side.
When the toggle switch was pressed, the chain was closed, a sheaf of fire flew out from the rear of the grenade launcher with a roar, while the operator on the imitation console undermined the charge laid in the enemy's stuffed animal on the guard tower.
The scarecrow was torn in half and all sorts of entrails (removed the day before in the canteen's butcher's shop) flew out mixed with blood (red ink and tomato juice).
The “trick” was that before the start of active fire contact and the landing of the parachutists, there was a real fighter on the tower.
When the turmoil began, the fighter squatted down, and a smoke charge burst nearby and the tower was enveloped in yellow smoke for several seconds.
At this time, a completely plausible scarecrow was exhibited with a model of a machine gun in its hands.
The scout connected the wires and jumped inside the tower and hid in the previously dug blocked gap …
Gradually all the prelaunch tremors began to seize.
Airborne officers once again checked their slide and simulator suspension systems.
The "parachuting" was instructed.
The two-year lieutenant received from his comrades a can of the finest cold beer, and, hiding behind the podium, greedily sipped life-giving moisture.
From the checkpoint to the parade ground, crowds of guests and curious people were drawn.
The stout aunt of the committee members frowned in disgust, looking at the simple life of the commandos.
Fathers and brothers of the fighters joyfully looked back at the tightened formation.
The girls squealed, and the bailiff looked out on tiptoe for their boys.
Cameras clicked, an excited hubbub hung over the entire brigade.
Impatient excitement reigned.
A heart-rending cry came from the checkpoint:
- "Eduuuuut !!!"
Barriers flew up, gates creaked.
The brigade commander roared impatiently and, beating off a clear marching step, rushed to the two black Volgas, in which the distinguished guests had arrived.
The team froze to attention.
Even civilians have calmed down.
The lieutenant behind the podium choked on his beer and poured the Talk button on the headset.
Above the entire brigade, the report of the brigade commander thundered clearly, loudly and solemnly.
The civilians opened their mouths.
This is acoustics !!! This is the voice !!!
The distinguished guests, despite the hangover syndrome, nodded their heads approvingly and, putting their hands to the astrakhan hats, moved to the middle of the parade ground.
The conductor signaled with a baton: "Attention !!!"
A small warrant officer with a huge drum, like a regular orchestra player, deftly twirled a wooden mallet between his fingers, preparing to beat him into his tightly stretched side.
I've started …
The mallet slipped out of her clumsy fingers, and, flew away into the crowd, knocked the stout madam "committee member" into a tall mink hat.
- Is a mockery! I'll write to the newspapers !!! shouted madam.
- Mlyaya! The drummer is hot! - the lieutenant commented from behind the rostrum for the entire parade ground. His headset, under the influence of the beer spilled on him, shorted out and it gave out on the whole parade ground the experiences of an impressionable two-year lieutenant (a frequent visitor to the Udaff. COM website).
"Distinguished guests", striking a step, entered the asphalt parade ground.
The brigade commander clenched his teeth.
- "Machi, mustachioed" - the lieutenant wheezed and cut in the march.
The musicians began to intensively depict playing the instruments.
The ensign-conductor deftly waved his baton and twisted intricate figures with his free hand: a mixture of South Shaolin Kung Fu and obscene gestures.
The music sounded clearly loud from all sides.
The faces of the spectators and the military smoothed out.
Even the drummer, who beat the drum on the side with his palm, did not spoil the impression.
A wave of the wand - and the music stopped.
- Hello comrades scouts !!! - cheerfully barked the "tallest" of the guests.
- Zdra zhla..tshch … !!! the scouts barked.
- Congratulations…. !!!
- URAAAAAAAAAAAA - was heard rolling and polyphonic.
Then the "distinguished guests" climbed onto the podium.
Not finding the microphone, they glanced sideways at the brigade commander and began to read speeches.
And then the brigade commander took the floor.
That was the word !!! That was the voice !!
Even the bosses got to the bone.
The generals looked sideways at the colonel with respect, and did not understand what the secret was.
The brigade commander, quietly thrusting an earpiece into his ear and not looking into any papers, briskly poured numbers and facts, forgetting nothing, not getting confused or stumbling.
That was a performance !!!
- And I can list all the servicemen of our brigade who, with their tireless work and impeccable service, brought our unit to the front lines … - “Lucy, blah … hang up and don't call: I'm on the parade ground” - the commander's voice died down for a few seconds, the lieutenant for the tribune reacted on time.
Then he rolled over the silenced brigade again.
After the performance, a solemn march took place.
And finally, demonstration performances.
Before the speeches, the brigade commander again rolled a speech for a few minutes, in which he talked about how to safely serve in the special forces, about the measures taken to protect and prevent, preserve life and health, and even introduced the officer in charge of that very security.
Cheerful and rhythmic music thundered over the parade ground: "The Mortal Combat begins".
A thunderous voice rang out.
Hand-to-hand fighters ran out in straight rows onto the asphalt.
Some mothers and girls recognized their sons and lovers, secretly wiped away their tears with handkerchiefs, squealed joyfully, and the men opened their mouths.
The commandos began to twist various sets of exercises with weapons, encouraging themselves with friendly and well-coordinated shouts.
The brigade commander cautiously pulled the ZNSh for the safety of military service aside and set the task: to quietly inspect the territory and areas of the performances, on the subject of "you never know."
ZNSH quickly ran around the stadium, squeezed through the crowd and climbed onto the roof of the building, where the cable slipways were installed.
VDV soldiers and soldiers, who were preparing to land, tried to drive him away.
However, that was not the case.
ZNSH yelled at everyone and personally began to check the harness and cables, making him even more nervous.
At this time, the mothers who surrounded the parade ground were ready to collapse into a swoon.
Despite all the assurances of the brigade commander, which one could even believe - their sons were now crashing with terrible force on the asphalt, receiving blows to various parts of the body with their hands and feet, and they themselves thrashed where they did not hit, with brutal faces and screams broke their necks conditional opponents, and it was clear that they were madly in love with this occupation.
The girls no longer squealed, but only sighed softly.
Ladies from the "Committee of Someone's Mothers" filmed the action with cameras and cameras.
The brigade commander's voice thundered throughout the parade ground, overlapping the music:
- And now our scouts are demonstrating hand-to-hand combat techniques “one against three” !!!
A hysterical shout was heard from the roof of the educational building:
- VeDesnikii! Freaks! Kozlyyy! I will remember you mlyayayayayaya ……….
The ZNSh flew briskly along the taut cables, firmly grasping the harness and dangling its legs.
As they say, I checked it out.
Despite the protests of the airborne service officers, the deputy chief of staff pulled the reconnaissance officer out of the harness and began jumping on it, tucking his legs in, thus checking the strength of the cables and straps.
He jumped, did not keep his balance, and the officers of the service did not even have time to blink an eye, as the ZNSh was already flying over the parade ground, speaking dirty.
Civilians and generals gasped.
The biennial lieutenant, sitting behind the podium, commented:
- Fuck! ZNSha - Batman! Handsome man, fuck …
The brigade commander was not taken aback:
- The best sportsman-paratrooper of the brigade, he is the deputy chief of staff for security of the service, shows his skills !!!
The civilians clapped loudly.
ZNSH landed at the far end of the stadium and limping began to look for the hat that was lost during landing, while bowing to the audience.
A "nurse" flew up to him.
Two scouts in white coats jumped out of it and shoved the protester ZNSh inside.
- Military medics show their skills !!! - the brigade commander announced.
This was the end of the hand-to-hand performance.
- - And now I will ask everyone to the stadium, now you will see a demonstration performance by a special-purpose group in the raid !!!!!
The crowd, amicably humming, rushed to the stadium. Some kind of mournful music was heard over the stadium, either Tim Matsuraev or Makka Sugaipova sang. The scouts who portrayed either militants or servicemen of an unknown Wahhabi state behaved accordingly. They lit a hookah, danced warlike dances, shaking their weapons. They brought a prisoner, whom they gladly began to torture. The prisoner did not say anything and loudly throughout the stadium fired up the hooligans who had captivated him.
Civilians supported the courageous fighter with shouts of approval. Several ailing men tried to get out and help, or try, or free the fighter. Finally, the militants got tired of torturing the intractable scout, and they shot him without letting the song "Eaglet" be finished. The shot from the scout's chest and back spattered a fountain of bright red spray. The crowd froze in shock, preparing to scream. The brigade commander winced. The generals widened their eyes in fright.
And then cheerful music thundered, the noise of helicopter propellers was heard very clearly overhead. Many, including the generals, lifted their heads. The commandos flew with frenzied fire on the stocks. Directly in the air, they uncoupled, jumped to the ground and, rolling, continued to fire at the enemy. There was even more blood. The crowd could no longer speak, many felt ill. The special forces who descended from the sky began a retreat maneuver, luring the militants to an ambush subgroup, which had laid down in advance and camouflaged with a camouflage net. And now the enemy is in the zone of destruction of fire, furious machine-gun fire. The entire field of the stadium was covered with earthen fountains.
- Blyayaya fighting wet! - someone from the crowd yelled.
The first to fall to the ground were the generals.
- Calm down, - the brigade commander rumbled, - Calm down, only blanks are used …
And the special forces, who went into a rage, went on the offensive. A cloud of smoke enveloped the tower. The scout representing the sentry dived down. The grenade launcher raised the Fly's tube to his shoulder.
BBbbbahhhhh !!!! With a deafening roar, a jet of gas burst out (from a grenade launcher !!).
BBBbbbaahh !!! The mannequin scattered in half, splashing the surrounding people with all sorts of entrails and red ink.
- AAAAAaa, - the crowd yelled in horror..
- Palkoovnik, yes you ooh …. eaten !!, what are you doing here, - the generals shouted, wiping bloody splashes from their greatcoats.
After showing off, many of the faint-hearted ladies had to be revived. The generals were brought to their senses already in the sauna. The visitors left the brigade in horror.
The biennial lieutenant smiled happily and rumbled contentedly for the whole part, frightening the ladies "committee women" who were hastily leaving the territory
-Yeah blah spetsnaz is not a bunch of homosexuals !!!!
