Red Star

Chapter 21

When the heated discussion of the" subtlety and piquancy " of the joke ended, my mother stated that I was lucky that my first "adult" joke was so funny and intelligent! And told "her" first adult anecdote, which she overheard from adults when she was 5 years old:

A lady calls the Fire Department and says: "Comrade chief, here your fireman, who was hanging on our wall, fell down a bump, lies and foams. Come back soon!"

Opensource projects, eh... Humor in time and space. And they also laughed at this" foaming", though without much enthusiasm.

I can't stand it and say that I've already heard one adult joke. The ladies are intrigued, and I give out a "revelation from the 21st century":

- Tanya, I don't see your favorite jeans.

"I threw them away."

"Why not?"

"I've been feeling like a bee in them lately.

"How's that?"

- In the ass sting... the

Situation, as with Churbanov: first, a second struggle with yourself for the culture of speech, then wild laughter, and then wiping away tears and moralizing that "such" words are not good to say. Ah, time!..

However, the waiting time expired, and the award ceremony started at 12 o'clock. Today, according to the Deputy Minister, awards are given to workers, scientists and employees of the Ministry of internal Affairs.

Churbanov begins to instruct me how to behave, what to say and what not to say. I listen diligently and nod when it runs out, saying:

"don't worry, uncle Yura! I understand everything and I will not let you down, I understand perfectly well who I owe the fact that I am here today.

Churbanov nods with a serious face, but it is clear that my words are pleasant to him! He thinks about it for a while, and then he tells me:

"I don't doubt you, Victor, you're a reasonable and correct guy. I actually reported to Leonid Ilyich about the events in Leningrad and told him about you. In fact, it was Leonid Ilyich's decision to award you, and we-the Ministry of internal Affairs-just took the initiative.

I nod with a significant muzzle, making it clear that I understand what "we are the Ministry of internal Affairs" and "just took the initiative." Smiling chumps.

There is a knock at the office door and the major who came in from the reception room says softly:

- Comrade Lieutenant-General, it's time...

Churbanov gets up, followed by all the others, and we leave the office...

***

- Hmm... Dear comrades! I have a pleasant task today ... to present to you... high awards of the Motherland ... ahem... for your valiant work... in production, in design bureaus and institutes ... hmm... in the protection of socialist law and order in the country ... hmm... In your hard work... ahem... in the line of duty... at the cutting edge of science ... you... ahem... proved to the world... that...

"Yes... Brezhnev is really bad... how he managed it for another four years, " I thought, looking at rather than listening to the Secretary General.

In 2013, I was awarded the order of merit for the Fatherland, 3rd class, in the Catherine hall of the Kremlin. A large hall, a lot of people, a long ceremony and a lot of speeches. I then limited myself, literally, to two short phrases and noticed the grateful look of the tired and aged President.

Here is a small fully gilded hall, awarded only seven (!) people, the same twenty people, four TV cameras and two groups of officials: one of the elderly "celestials", the second of the assistants and assistants, among whom I noticed my mother. Our eyes met, and I winked, making a reassuring face.

Brezhnev walked unsteadily into the hall as the huge gold clock in the corner began to strike noon, and now he was monotonously reading out words about his "deep respect" and "understandable excitement" at the awarding of the "best sons of the Soviet people".

Nevertheless, I decided to stick to my previous plan and take full advantage of the opportunity I had earned with my own blood.

The first to be called to the award was a pale and sweating machine operator from Gorno-Altaisk. Short and thin, he looked lost, smiled nervously, and almost fell as he walked back from Brezhnev and brushed the wires from the cameras and microphones on the floor with his foot.

After him, everyone was called in turn: a completely gray-haired, but tall and confident military designer, a fat police major-General, a puny elderly academician, a portly milkmaid from the Kuban Region with bright eyes from excitement, and a miner from Kuzbass who constantly hid his hands, with coal dust firmly ingrained in them.

All the awardees thanked Brezhnev in low words, past the installed microphones, and promised to improve, invent, and provide something even more. Brezhnev smiled and shook hands with everyone, but only kissed the gray-haired designer and the burly milkmaid.

I remained the last and with a confident gait, with a rehearsed ski on my Moska, I moved to the General Secretary of the Central Committee of the CPSU. When his assistant called my name and the reason for the award, everyone around me somehow perked up and"woke up".

Brezhnev's face seems to have had only two States: a tired smile or frozen like a death mask, without emotion, with a gaze fixed on nothing. However, he also brightened up when he heard the assistant's words and looked at me with an answering smile.

- Hello, Leonid Ilyich! I said loudly.

- Hello, my friend, Hello! So that's what you are, good fellow! - Brezhnev laughed rattling - how did you cope with an adult bandit?

- It was difficult, but in that situation it was like this: who, if not me?! my voice rang out from the ceiling, which was already used to the low voices of the elderly inhabitants of these halls.

- Communists with such words ... Hm... passed the most difficult... moments of our history, " Brezhnev said, half-turning to the elderly major General who constantly loomed behind him.

- Quite so, Leonid Ilyich! - quickly confirmed the other.

"You're a pioneer, I see.".. - slowly continued Brezhnev - and in the Komsomol ... are you going to join?

"I'm going to join our party, too, Leonid Ilyich, if my senior comrades trust me!"

- Hmm... well, - Brezhnev smiled benevolently, looking at me, - and how are you studying?

- This year two fours, next year I will try to finish only with fives, Leonid Ilyich, - I make a guilty look.

"Well done," Brezhnev stated... he told me... that you write poems and songs... I love poetry... hmmm... I used to know a lot by heart... hmmm... remembered...

"Bingo!!! Yes

, Leonid Ilyich, as I write, I look slightly embarrassed.

"Come on, read it to us... hmmm.".. something-Brezhnev makes a circular motion with his brush, depicting this very "something", and looks at me expectantly.

"Well... I don't have anything."..I mumble it under my breath uncertainly, but I don't forget to speak a little sideways into the microphones.

- You read to Leonid Ilyich an excerpt from your military March, - suggests Brezhnev's assistant, who announced the awardees.

I pause hesitantly, then look doubtfully at Brezhnev and ask him:

Brezhnev nods affirmatively:

"Give it to me... hmm.".. be bold, don't be shy!

Then I realize that Brezhnev the word "impromptu" is not understood, needs to be corrected:

I roll my eyes painted gold on the ceiling, begin to whisper with his lips and gently help yourself, "conducting" to the beat, bent index finger of the right hand, so even Brezhnev must understand that I write on the go!

There is absolute silence in the hall, the edge of my vision picks out pieces of the mosaic: the panicked state of the assistant, Brezhnev's mouth slightly open in anticipation, Churbanov's tense face... after

a pause, until the bursting sound of my own nerves, I finally lower my hand, look at the Secretary General, throw my head back slightly and recite into the microphones with an expression:

A red banner flies above us,

The cry of victory rushes over us!

We are happy to live at the same time as You,

Our dear Leonid Ilyich!

***

We are going to Zavidovo in Churbanov's car. He's talking to someone on the phone, not on a cell phone, of course... I remember...

...After I fell silent, first silence, and then the first, I saw it very well, the first to applaud was the machine operator from the Altai, who almost fell when he was already walking with the order, back from Brezhnev. Then it was immediately picked up by everyone else. The smiling assistant who looked into the face of his General Secretary, the General behind Brezhnev, who simply gave me a thumbs-up from his overflowing feelings, Churbanov, who looked as if the world was applauding his poetic masterpiece.

In short, the applause was not thunderous, because there were not many people, but it was friendly and accompanied by General smiles. Maybe from relief that the direct student did not"soak anything like that".

What about Brezhnev? Elderly General Secretary... wept. Tears rolled down the wrinkles on the smile, which he tried to squeeze out, and the leader of the USSR babbled incoherently:

- thank You, son... not for nothing means... what a good boy you are ... come here... let me kiss you... my

Heart ached with pity.

Remembering the "Brezhnev kisses", I gave the hero of my quatrain only the top of my head, but I strongly pricked my face in his arms about the palisade of heroic stars.

...After the ceremony, the awardees took a group photo with the Secretary General. Brezhnev did not let go of me, and I was in the photo next to him, and He also put his arm around my shoulder.

Then suddenly the waiters appeared with glasses of champagne and I, among others, got a slightly fogged crystal glass with a bubbling drink. I wisely refrained from drinking alcohol and kept the glass untouched.

Brezhnev made a short toast "to all present" and the audience drank. I was envious in silence.

- Why did you bring Vityusha alcohol too? - Brezhnev noticed the disorder. He calmed down very quickly and was already smiling.

"They'll bring you something non-alcoholic, Leonid Ilyich," Churbanov assured Brezhnev as he appeared behind me and took the glass of champagne from me. To my left, I suddenly found my mother and snuggled up to her.

Brezhnev noticed this immediately and began to get acquainted with her. The situation wasn't even pretty. Leonid Ilyich was absorbed in communicating with me, my mother and Churbanov, forgetting about the other awardees.

At first, Brezhnev asked my mother about my dead husband, whether he was awarded posthumously, whether there was enough military pension, where my mother works. Then he switched back to me. Again hugged and began to ask where I want to go after school and what I'm interested in other than poetry.

My brain was working like a clock, my eyes were very clearly fixed on everything around me, I was smiling outwardly, but I was completely cold and ready for a fight... not for life... but FOR LIFE... My country, subsequent generations... As I understood it. How I was going to do it... try to implement it...

- After school, I haven't decided where to go yet, Leonid Ilyich. Here is Yuri Mikhailovich in school militia offers, I, too, tend to this.

"Yuri Mikhailovich won't advise anything bad," the Secretary General nodded.

- Yuri Mikhailovich, in General, helped a lot, especially with the hospital, where I was "sewn up"! - I poured water on Churbanov's mill.

Brezhnev looked at his son-in-law approvingly and was about to say something else, but it was not in my plans that he would leave the topic that I was extremely interested in.

- And in addition to poetry, I am also fond of sports and hunting, only training three times a week, and I only managed to go hunting a couple of times - I smile shyly.

My mother's eyes widen, because she knows I've never been hunting, but she doesn't say anything.

And Brezhnev... Brezhnev heard the cherished favorite word and immediately took the bait!

- A... Do you like hunting too?! And I respect this business very much, at my leisure! I invite you to my hunting party, how will your mother let you go?! and he smiles at his numb mother, who can only nod.

***

...The shots were deafening. Brezhnev was reloading his guns. "Pereleski" and occasionally somewhere shot into the green trees. Personally, I didn't see anyone, so I stood with a loaded gun and tried not to wince at the noise.

I was helped by a young guy from the General Secretary's security, Kirill, as he introduced himself. But it seems that his main task was to finish me off in time if I turned the gun the wrong way!

After about five minutes, I realized that I also needed to shoot, at least for show, and emptied both barrels into a Bush. While Cyril was reloading my gun, and they didn't trust me with the cartridges, I looked around.

We were standing on a small wooden platform about two meters high. In addition to Brezhnev, me and Kirill, on the wooden podium stood the huntsman Vladimir and the same General who was with Brezhnev at the award ceremony, his name was Alexander Yakovlevich.

And under our "tower" there were still about fifteen people, including Churbanov, who had brought me to Zavidovo. Yuri Mikhailovich was so immensely pleased with my "solo performance" in the Kremlin that this time he did not even instruct me how to behave. The only thing I did was warn you to be extremely careful with your weapons.

In my previous life, I was a very good shot and had been hunting many times, including on Safari in South Africa, but in General, I was calm about hunting.

Brezhnev was really a fan! I was surprised at the change in him. It seemed that the General Secretary was ten years younger. He was actively moving, his eyes were shining with a brave sparkle, and his hands were confidently raising the rifle. Well, almost sure. Once, when Brezhnev fired, he could not hold the gun and broke the bridge of his nose with optics until it bled. But the bridge of his nose was quickly sealed and Leonid Ilyich, ignoring the persuasions, again climbed on to the "tower".

Finally, I got lucky... Brezhnev was reloading his rifle when a small ROE deer popped out of a dense thicket of bushes and ran across the clearing to the safety of the trees.

- Vitya, hit! the General Secretary shouted, pointing.

I raised the rifle, took the lead, and pulled the trigger smoothly. With a run, a shapeless carcass, the ROE fell into the grass.

"Ah, well done! Brezhnev shouted, as if he had hit me himself, and slapped me on the back out of an excess of emotion.

"Did I hit it?" - "surprised" I blink my eyes.

"I got it right, I got it right, with the first shot," the Brezhnev huntsman commented with satisfaction. Cyril was also smiling. But most of all, Brezhnev was happy, he told me about ten minutes before the start of the hunt how to aim correctly, take pre-emption and anticipate the target's maneuvers.

- Thank You... thank you, Leonid Ilyich, - "confused" I stutter - I didn't think that I would use your science right today!

- well Done, what a good fellow you are... - Brezhnev was saying, already searching for a new victim in the forest with the trunk.

After a while, I was replaced on the tower by Konstantin Ustinovich Chernenko, he was not yet a half-dead corpse, as I remember from the broadcasts of Soviet television, and quite cheerfully stomped to the "tower" to shoot.

I found myself among a group of Brezhnev's confidants, where everyone congratulated me on my "first prize".

About an hour later, the entire "hunting team" sat at a table set in nature and washed the rich trophies of the day. But Leonid Ilyich separately raised a toast to my first hunting success, because in the morning I managed to give him a version that even though I went hunting, but they didn't give me a chance to shoot there. So they drank to me, and then, of course, to my "talented teacher and great hunter-dear Leonid Ilyich"!

The table was very simple: potatoes, tomatoes, herbs, cucumbers, fried meat and poultry. There was also alcohol, but everyone drank in moderation. I drank the juice.

At the table, I was the absolute center of attention, well, after Brezhnev, of course! Still, they knew each other like peels, all the topics have already been discussed a hundred times, and here is such a new character, and besides with his own story!

"His story," I was told, literally, in their faces. The people demanded details, and they got them! Deputy interior Minister Lieutenant General Churbanov played the maniac and tried to strangle me with one hand, and the second, holding a spoon, instead of a knife - to stab. We got into the role so much that Churbanov even earned a warning Brezhnev:

"don't run him over, Yura!

Where I should have, I put on an air of horror, and once I trembled in my voice - " remembering." In short, if at first, the other old people did not understand why "Lenya brought the child", now they have forgiven me for my inappropriate presence and, in General, have enlisted in the "universal snotty pet"!

And at the table, I must say, there were not the last people present, for example: the closest friend of the Secretary General - Chernenko, Secretary of the Central Committee for personnel Kapitonov, defense Minister Ustinov, 1st Secretary of the Moscow city Committee Grishin and head of the foreign Ministry Gromyko.

At the end of my "presentation" Brezhnev became interested:

"What are you doing, hmm?".. didn't wait? Yes... and the ambulance?

I defiantly "hesitated" and looked back at Churbanov.

"You're a hmmm... don't look around at Yura... speak as you are, " said Leonid Ilyich.

- There as it turned out, Leonid Ilyich, - I hesitantly began to drawl - I have a friend, well, an older friend, Alexey's name, served as a marine... two drunken recidivists attacked him, with knives... he broke one man's jaw, and the other's arm...

"he did the Right thing," Ustinov laughed. The other companions at the table also smiled approvingly.

"That's right, that's right... only he was given three years for this, it's good that he was suspended... He also got a good lawyer, otherwise they would have put him in jail.

"Like three years?" Brezhnev was surprised and stared at Churbanov questioningly. Ustinov, on the other hand, simply swore in surprise.

Yuri Mikhailovich, clearly annoyed by this turn of the conversation, began to explain:

- So it is, Leonid Ilyich, "serious bodily harm", "exceeding the limits of necessary self-defense". The Prosecutor's office requested four years in a penal colony, and the court gave the minimum sentence.

"And you, my dear, it turns out that you know everything about Lech!" - I mentally stated in surprise, and continued the fight:

-So they are with knives and there are two of them, besides, criminals are recedivists, and he is alone and without weapons... - I mumbled sadly - that's when I remembered how Lech ended up in prison... my mother would have gone mad...

Brezhnev looked at Churbanov from under his famous eyebrows, sniffing with displeasure. The other participants of the" get-togethers " began to talk quietly among themselves.

- Leonid Ilyich, - Churbanov quickly began , - this is the Prosecutor's office and the court, the Ministry of internal Affairs has nothing to do with this.

"We need to figure it out," Brezhnev said weightily, looking pointedly at the Deputy interior Minister.

- And Lyosha was expelled from the party because of this, when he told me about it, he even started crying,-I lied melodramatically - and now he is very worried.

Brezhnev sniffed quite displeased:

"That's a hmmm... is it working? - quietly, as if to himself, said the General Secretary-a young guy hmmm... Communist... stops armed GHM bandits... is it his fault? And then another hmmm ... learned from his experience... already running away from the police? We, the Soviet government HHM... award... and the Soviet court puts such people in jail? there was a tense silence at the table.

- Leonid Ilyich, - Kapitonov showed a timely initiative-maybe we should give an order to Rudenko?

- Give, - Brezhnev weightily pressed-let the General Prosecutor's office of the GM... sort it out and report back.

However, Brezhnev moved away very quickly from the mood that had soured, a lively conversation began again, and when the " picnic in the air "was already nearing completion, I even sang" my " military March. One of the Brezhnev huntsmen had a Bayan with him, and he picked up the chords no longer than the Leningrad Beavis. By the way, everyone liked the melody and words very much, high-ranking hunters who were drunk, even began to sing along at the end. Defense Minister Ustinov, with Brezhnev's full approval, solemnly promised to "March to the army"!

- You, Vityusha, Hm... talent! - said Brezhnev-do not bury it... Beautiful and correct GCMs... songs to the right people... What's it like: "We need to build a GM... and it helps to live!" the

Other comrades supported their General Secretary with approving remarks.

"You, Yura, keep an eye on him there," Brezhnev said to Churbanov.

To which the latter warmly assured "dear Leonid Ilyich" that he would not let me stray from the right path. I shivered inwardly...

I, in turn, thanked Brezhnev for his kind words and boasted that one of my songs was already going to be sung by Senchina and that it might be included in the"Song of the year". Brezhnev nodded approvingly, but, in my opinion, the name of senchinoj he said nothing.

Then the conversation at the table turned to some work questions, and I wisely went with Kirill to" learn "how to clean guns...

After the "hunt" everyone went to their dachas, and Churbanov and I went to Moscow. In the car, Yuri Mikhailovich praised me, but still expressed dissatisfaction with the story with Lesha:

"You see, Vitya, you can't upset Leonid Ilyich over nothing. He does a huge, colossal job of leading the country and our party, but he takes certain negative aspects very close to his heart, and it is no longer very healthy for him.

"Not very healthy is you're gently formulated," thought I to myself, and tired for this day like a dog, I blurted out:

- Uncle Jura, I to treat you very well and thank you very much, and if you ever, anything happens in life is bad, I will do everything I can to help.

Churbanov was clearly taken aback, then smiled wryly and asked:

"Thank you, of course... but what's your point?

- But Lyosha happened ...

Then for some time we drove in silence. I caught an approving glance in the rearview mirror from the Churbanov driver, Nikolai , a broad-shouldered young man of about 25, but he immediately turned back to the road. It is no wonder, the forced "Volga" flew along the highway we at a speed much higher than 100 km per hour.