A young lieutenant ends up in the Brest Fortress on the first day of the war. For ten months he stubbornly resists the Nazis and dies unbroken.

Part one

Nineteen-year-old Kolya Pluzhnikov graduates from military school with the rank of junior lieutenant. Instead of a vacation, the commissioner asks him to help sort out the school’s property, which is expanding due to the complicated situation in Europe.

For two weeks, Pluzhnikov sorts out and accounts for military property. Then the general calls him and offers him to remain at his native school as the commander of a training platoon with the prospect of continuing his studies at the Military Academy. Kolya refuses - he wants to serve in the army.

The commander... becomes a real commander only after serving in the troops, having shared the same pot with the soldiers, and learning to command them.

Kolya is appointed platoon commander and sent to the Special Western district with the condition that in a year he will return to school.

Kolya goes to his duty station through Moscow. He finds a few hours to see his mother and younger sister - Kolya's father died in Central Asia at the hands of the Basmachi. At home, Kolya meets his sister’s friend. The girl has been in love with him for a long time. She promises to wait for Kolya and is going to visit him at his new duty station. The girl believes that war will start soon, but Kolya is convinced that these are empty rumors, and the Red Army is strong and will not allow the enemy into our territory.

Kolya arrives in Brest in the evening. Not finding a canteen, he and random fellow travelers go to a restaurant where a self-taught violinist plays. Brest is restless; every night beyond the Bug you can hear the roar of engines, tanks and tractors.

After dinner, Kolya parts with his fellow travelers. They invite him with them, but Pluzhnikov remains in the restaurant. The violinist plays for the lieutenant, and the musician’s niece Mirra accompanies Kolya to the Brest Fortress.

At the checkpoint, Kolya is sent to the barracks for business travelers. Mirrochka undertakes to accompany him.

It was very quiet and very warm, and he was a little dizzy, and he thought with pleasure that he had nowhere to rush yet, because he was not yet on the lists.

Mirra, a lame Jewish girl who works in the fortress, is aware of everything that happens both in the city and in the garrison. This seems suspicious to Kolya. Before the next checkpoint, he tries to open the holster of his service weapon and a moment later he is already lying in the dust under the gun of the duty officer.

Having settled the misunderstanding, Mirra undertakes to clean Kolya of dust and takes him to a warehouse in a large basement. There the lieutenant meets two middle-aged women, a mustachioed foreman, a gloomy sergeant and an eternally sleepy young soldier. While Kolya is cleaning himself, it begins to get light, and the night of June 22, 1941 ends. Kolya sits down to drink tea, and then the roar of explosions is heard. The foreman is sure that war has begun. Kolya rushes upstairs to get to his regiment in time, because he is not on the lists.

Part two

Pluzhnikov finds himself in the center of an unfamiliar fortress. Everything around is on fire, people are burning alive in the garage. On the way to the KPK, Kolya hides in a crater along with an unfamiliar soldier, who reports: the Germans are already in the fortress. Pluzhnikov understands that the war has really begun.

Following a fighter named Salnikov, Kolya joins his own people and, under the command of a deputy political officer, recaptures a club occupied by the Germans - a former church. Kolya is entrusted with holding the church. The fortress is bombed for the rest of the day. Kolya and a dozen fighters fight off Nazi attacks with captured weapons. All the water is used to cool the machine guns, the river bank is already occupied by the Nazis, and the soldiers are tormented by thirst.

He no longer felt either fear or time: his stuffy ears were ringing, his parched throat was painfully sore, and his hands were unaccustomed to moving away from the beating German machine gun.

Between the attacks, Pluzhnikov and Salnikov explore the vast basement of the church - the women hiding there seemed to have seen the Germans - but find no one. In the evening, nimble Salnikov brings water. Kolya begins to understand that the Red Army will not help them.

In the morning the Germans break through the basement. Kolya and Salnikov, under fire, run across to another basement, where a small detachment of soldiers led by a senior lieutenant is holed up. He believes that the church had to be abandoned because of Pluzhnikov. Kolya also feels his guilt - he overlooked it - and undertakes to atone for it.

He sat on the floor, motionless, gloomily thinking that he had done the worst thing: he had betrayed his comrades. He did not look for excuses for himself, did not feel sorry for himself: he sought to understand why this happened.

Kolya receives an order to correct the mistake and recapture the church. It is repulsed, and yesterday is repeated - bombings, attacks. Kolya lies behind the machine gun and shoots, burning himself on the hot body.

They are replaced in the morning. Kolya, Salnikov and the tall border guard retreat, come under fire and break into a basement compartment from which there is no exit. Only at night do they break through to the ring barracks, under which there is also a network of basements. Meanwhile, the enemy is changing tactics. Now German sappers are methodically blowing up the ruins, destroying places where they can hide.

In the basements, Kolya meets a wounded political instructor and learns from him that the Germans promise a heavenly life to the surrendered “valiant defenders of the fortress.” The political instructor believes that the Germans need to be beaten so that they are afraid of every stone, tree and hole in the ground. Kolya understands that the political instructor is right.

The next day Kolya ends up in the common basements.

Days and nights merged into a single chain of forays and bombings, ... battles with the enemy and short, fainting-like minutes of oblivion. And a constant, debilitating desire to drink that does not go away even in sleep.

The political instructor dies, taking several fascists with him, a high border guard is mortally wounded during the storming of the bridge, then the commanders send women and children into German captivity so that they do not die of thirst in the basements.

Kolya gets water for the wounded. The border guard asks to be taken to the exit from the basement - he wants to die under open air. Helping his friend, Kolya says that everyone was ordered to “scatter in all directions.” But there are no cartridges, and breaking through without ammunition is senseless suicide.

Leaving the border guard to die, Kolya and Salnikov go to look for an ammunition depot. The Germans had already occupied the fortress. During the day they destroy ruins, and at night these ruins come to life.

Wounded, scorched, exhausted by thirst and battles, skeletons in rags rose from under the bricks, crawled out of the dungeons and... destroyed those who risked staying overnight. And the Germans were afraid of the nights.

Friends make their way to the warehouse during the day, hiding in craters. A German discovers them in one of the craters. They begin to beat Salnikov, and they chase Pluzhnikov in a circle, “encouraging” them with machine gun fire, until he dives into an unnoticeable hole in the ground.

Kolya ends up in an isolated bunker, where he meets Mirra and her companions - senior sergeant Fedorchuk, foreman, Red Army soldier Vasya Volkov. They have a supply of food, they got water by breaking through the floor and digging a well. Having come to his senses, Kolya feels that he is at home.

Part three

For them, walled up alive in a remote casemate, the whole war was now going on above.

While Kolya was fighting, they made their way through the basements into this isolated bunker with two exits - to the surface and to the weapons warehouse.

Pluzhnikov decides to make his way to the remnants of the garrison holed up in the distant basements, but is late: before his eyes, the Germans blow up the shelter and destroy the last defenders of the fortress. Now only scattered individuals remain in the ruins.

Pluzhnikov returns to the basement and lies on the bench for a long time, remembering those with whom he fought all these days.

With amazing clarity he now saw them all. Everyone who, covering him, rushed forward, rushed without hesitation, without thinking, driven by something incomprehensible, incomprehensible to him.

Kolya pronounces a death sentence on himself and decides to shoot himself. Mirra stops him. The next morning, Pluzhnikov finally comes to his senses, arms the men under his command and organizes forays to the surface, hoping to find at least one of his own. Kolya believes that Salnikov is still alive and is constantly looking for him.

During one of the forays, a shootout begins and the foreman is wounded in the leg. The next day Fedorchuk disappears. Kolya, together with Vasya Volkov, goes to look for him and sees how he voluntarily surrenders to the Germans. Pluzhnikov kills the traitor with a shot in the back.

He felt no remorse in shooting a man with whom he had sat at a common table more than once. On the contrary, he felt an angry, joyful excitement.

Vasya begins to fear his commander. Meanwhile, the Germans enter the fortress and begin to clear the ruins. Kolya and Volkov retreat and stumble upon prisoners, among whom Pluzhnikov sees a Red Army soldier he knows. He informs Kolya that Salnikov is alive and is in a German hospital. The prisoner tries to give him away. Kolya has to run away and loses Volkov.

Pluzhnikov notices that a different kind of Germans came to the fortress - not so agile and fast. He takes one prisoner and finds out that he is a mobilized German worker from the guard team. Kolya understands that he must kill the prisoner, but he cannot do this and lets him go.

The foreman's wound is rotting, he feels that he will not last long, and decides to sell his life dearly. The foreman blows up the gate through which the enemy enters the fortress, along with himself and a large group of Germans.

Part four

On the advice of the foreman, Kolya wants to send Mirra to the Germans as a prisoner, hoping that she can survive. The girl thinks that Kolya wants to get rid of her as a burden. She understands that the Germans will kill her, a cripple and a Jew.

Pluzhnikov explores the labyrinth of basements and stumbles upon two survivors - a sergeant and a corporal. They are about to leave the fortress and call Kolya with them. New acquaintances do not want to take Mirra with them. They believe that the Red Army has been defeated and want to escape as quickly as possible. Kolya refuses to leave the girl alone and forces the sergeant and corporal to leave, supplying them with cartridges.

Mirra is in love with Kolya, and he shares her feelings. They become husband and wife.

And again there was no darkness, no basement, no rats squeaking in the corners. And again there was no war, but two. Two on Earth. Man and woman.

Time passes. Pluzhnikov patrols the fortress every day. On one of these forays he meets Vasya Volkov. He has gone crazy, but he is still afraid of Pluzhnikov. Seeing Kolya, Volkov runs away, runs into the Germans and dies.

Autumn is coming. Mirra admits to Kolya that she is expecting a child and must leave. Kolya had already seen a detachment of captive women in the fortress who were clearing away the rubble. He takes Mirra to them, she tries to mix with the prisoners, but they notice the extra woman. She is recognized by a German, whom Kolya once spared. Mirra tries to move away so that Pluzhnikov, who is watching everything from a hole in the basement, does not understand anything and does not interfere. The girl is brutally beaten and pierced with a bayonet.

A bright light flashed before her tightly closed eyes, and in this merciless light she suddenly saw that she would never have a child, a husband, or life itself.

The half-dead girl is buried in a small crater with bricks.

Part five

Kolya gets sick and loses track of the days. When Pluzhnikov recovers and gets out, there is already snow in the fortress. He starts hunting German patrols again.

He was alive and still felt like the master of the Brest Fortress, silent under the snow.

Pluzhnikov is sure that Mirra has returned to her family and tries not to think about her.

Kolya ends up in a church, remembers how he fought for it, and understands: there is no death and loneliness, “because it exists, this is the past.” The Germans try to catch him by quietly cordoning off the church, but Pluzhnikov escapes. In the evening, Kolya returns to his habitable corner and discovers that it has been blown up - Pluzhnikov’s footprints in the freshly fallen snow gave him away.

Kolya goes to the unexplored basements and meets the surviving foreman Semishny there. He is wounded in the spine and can no longer walk - he is gradually paralyzed. But the spirit of the foreman is not broken, he is sure that every meter is resisting the enemy native land. He forces Kolya to leave the basement every day and kill the invaders.

So that they know: the fortress is alive. So that they fear the dead too. So that their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren are ordered to go to Russia!

Kolya gradually begins to lose his sight, but stubbornly goes “hunting.” The sergeant major is also getting worse, he can hardly sit, but does not give up, “fighting every millimeter of his body to death.”

On the first day of 1942, Semishny dies. Before his death, he gives Kolya the regimental banner, which he had been wearing under his clothes all this time.

On April 12, the Germans find Pluzhnikov. As a translator, they bring a self-taught violinist who once played for Kolya. From him Pluzhnikov learns that the Germans were defeated near Moscow. Kolya feels that he has fulfilled his duty and goes out to his enemies. He is sick, almost blind, but he stands upright. He goes to the ambulance through the gauntlet German soldiers, and at the officer’s command they raise their hands to their caps.

But he did not see these honors, and if he had, he would no longer care. He was above all conceivable honors, above glory, above life and above death.

Near the car he falls “free and after life, tramples death with death.”

Epilogue

Visitors who come to the Brest Fortress Museum will definitely be told the legend about a man who was not on the lists, but defended the fortress for ten months, will be shown the only surviving regimental banner and “a small wooden artificial limb with the remnant of a woman’s shoe,” found in a crater under the bricks.

Boris Vasiliev

Not on the lists

Part one

In his entire life, Kolya Pluzhnikov has never encountered as many pleasant surprises as he has experienced in the last three weeks. An order to assign to him, Nikolai Petrovich Pluzhnikov, military rank he had been waiting for a long time, but following the order, pleasant surprises rained down in such abundance that Kolya woke up at night from his own laughter.

After the morning formation, at which the order was read out, they were immediately taken to the clothing warehouse. No, not the general cadet one, but the cherished one, where chrome boots of unimaginable beauty, crisp sword belts, stiff holsters, commander bags with smooth lacquer tablets, overcoats with buttons and strict diagonal tunics were issued. And then everyone, the entire graduating class, rushed to the school tailors to have the uniform adjusted to both height and waist, to blend into it as if into their own skin. And there they jostled, fussed and laughed so much that the official enamel lampshade began to sway under the ceiling.

In the evening, the head of the school himself congratulated everyone on graduation and presented them with the “Red Army Commander’s Identity Card” and a weighty TT. The beardless lieutenants loudly shouted the pistol number and squeezed the general's dry palm with all their might. And at the banquet the commanders of the training platoons were enthusiastically rocking and trying to settle scores with the foreman. However, everything turned out well, and this evening - the most beautiful of all evenings - began and ended solemnly and beautifully.

For some reason, it was on the night after the banquet that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov discovered that he was crunching. It crunches pleasantly, loudly and courageously. It crunches with fresh leather sword belts, uncrumpled uniforms, and shining boots. The whole thing crunches like a brand new ruble, which the boys of those years easily called “crunch” for this feature.

Actually, it all started a little earlier. Yesterday's cadets came with their girls to the ball that followed the banquet. But Kolya didn’t have a girlfriend, and he, hesitatingly, invited the librarian Zoya. Zoya pursed her lips in concern and said thoughtfully: “I don’t know, I don’t know...”, but she came. They danced, and Kolya, out of burning shyness, kept talking and talking, and since Zoya worked in the library, he talked about Russian literature. Zoya at first assented, and in the end, her clumsily painted lips stuck out resentfully:

You're crunching too hard, Comrade Lieutenant. In school language, this meant that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov was wondering. Then Kolya understood this, and when he arrived at the barracks, he discovered that he was crunching in the most natural and pleasant way.

“I’m crunching,” he told his friend and bunkmate, not without pride.

They were sitting on the windowsill in the second floor corridor. It was the beginning of June, and the nights at the school smelled of lilacs, which no one was allowed to break.

Crunch for your health, said the friend. - Only, you know, not in front of Zoya: she’s a fool, Kolka. She is a terrible fool and is married to a sergeant major from the ammunition platoon.

But Kolka listened with half an ear because he was studying the crunch. And he really liked this crunch.

The next day the guys began to leave: everyone was entitled to leave. They said goodbye noisily, exchanged addresses, promised to write, and one after another disappeared behind the barred gates of the school.

But for some reason, Kolya was not given travel documents (though the journey was nothing at all: to Moscow). Kolya waited two days and was just about to go find out when the orderly shouted from afar:

Lieutenant Pluzhnikov to the commissar!..

The commissioner, who looked very much like the suddenly aged artist Chirkov, listened to the report, shook hands, indicated where to sit, and silently offered cigarettes.

“I don’t smoke,” said Kolya and began to blush: he was generally thrown into a fever with extraordinary ease.

Well done,” said the commissioner. - But I, you know, still can’t quit, I don’t have enough willpower.

And he lit a cigarette. Kolya wanted to give advice on how to strengthen his will, but the commissar spoke again.

We know you, Lieutenant, as an extremely conscientious and efficient person. We also know that you have a mother and sister in Moscow, that you haven’t seen them for two years and miss them. And you are entitled to vacation. - He paused, got out from behind the table, walked around, looking intently at his feet. - We know all this, and yet we decided to make a request to you... This is not an order, this is a request, please note, Pluzhnikov. We no longer have the right to order you...

I'm listening, Comrade Regimental Commissar. - Kolya suddenly decided that he would be offered to go to work in intelligence, and he tensed up, ready to scream deafeningly: “Yes!..”

Our school is expanding,” said the commissioner. - The situation is difficult, there is a war in Europe, and we need to have as many combined arms commanders as possible. In this regard, we are opening two more training companies. But they are not yet fully staffed, but property is already arriving. So we ask you, Comrade Pluzhnikov, to help us deal with this property. Accept it, capitalize it...

And Kolya Pluzhnikov remained at the school in a strange position “wherever they send you.” His whole course had long since left, he had been having affairs for a long time, sunbathing, swimming, dancing, and Kolya was diligently counting bedding sets, linear meters of foot wraps and pairs of cowhide boots. And he wrote all sorts of reports.

Two weeks passed like this. For two weeks, Kolya patiently, from waking up until bedtime and seven days a week, received, counted and arrived property, without ever leaving the gate, as if he was still a cadet and waiting for leave from an angry foreman.

In June there were few people left at the school: almost everyone had already left for the camps. Usually Kolya did not meet with anyone, he was up to his neck busy with endless calculations, statements and acts, but somehow he was joyfully surprised to find that he was... welcomed. They greet you according to all the rules of army regulations, with cadet chic, throwing your palm to your temple and jauntily raising your chin. Kolya tried his best to answer with tired carelessness, but his heart sank sweetly in a fit of youthful vanity.

That's when he started walking in the evenings. With his hands behind his back, he walked straight towards the groups of cadets smoking before bed at the entrance to the barracks. Wearily, he looked sternly in front of him, and his ears grew and grew, catching a cautious whisper:

Commander…

And, already knowing that his palms were about to fly elastically to his temples, he carefully furrowed his eyebrows, trying to give his round, fresh, like a French roll, face an expression of incredible concern...

Hello, Comrade Lieutenant.

It was on the third evening: nose to nose - Zoya. In the warm twilight, white teeth sparkled with a chill, and numerous frills moved by themselves, because there was no wind. And this living thrill was especially frightening.

For some reason you are nowhere to be seen, Comrade Lieutenant. And you don’t come to the library anymore...

Are you left at the school?

“I have a special task,” Kolya said vaguely. For some reason they were already walking side by side and in the wrong direction. Zoya talked and talked, laughing incessantly; he did not catch the meaning, surprised that it was so

© Vasiliev B. L., heirs, 2015

* * *

Part one

1

In his entire life, Kolya Pluzhnikov has never encountered as many pleasant surprises as he has experienced in the last three weeks. He had been waiting for the order to confer a military rank on him, Nikolai Petrovich Pluzhnikov, for a long time, but after the order, pleasant surprises rained down in such abundance that Kolya woke up at night from his own laughter.

After the morning formation, at which the order was read out, they were immediately taken to the clothing warehouse. No, not the general cadet one, but the cherished one, where chrome boots of unimaginable beauty, crisp sword belts, stiff holsters, commander bags with smooth lacquer tablets, overcoats with buttons and a strict diagonal tunic were issued. And then everyone, the entire graduating class, rushed to the school tailors to have the uniform adjusted to both height and waist, to blend into it as if into their own skin. And there they jostled, fussed and laughed so much that the official enamel lampshade began to sway under the ceiling.

In the evening, the head of the school himself congratulated everyone on graduation and presented them with the “Red Army Commander’s Identity Card” and a weighty “TT”. The beardless lieutenants loudly shouted the pistol number and squeezed the general's dry palm with all their might. And at the banquet the commanders of the training platoons were enthusiastically rocking and trying to settle scores with the foreman. However, everything turned out well, and this evening - the most beautiful of all evenings - began and ended solemnly and beautifully.

For some reason, it was on the night after the banquet that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov discovered that he was crunching. It crunches pleasantly, loudly and courageously. It crunches with fresh leather sword belts, uncrumpled uniforms, and shining boots. The whole thing crunches like a brand new ruble, which the boys of those years easily called “crunch” for this feature.

Actually, it all started a little earlier. Yesterday's cadets came with their girls to the ball that followed the banquet. But Kolya didn’t have a girlfriend, and he, hesitatingly, invited the librarian Zoya. Zoya pursed her lips in concern and said thoughtfully: “I don’t know, I don’t know...” - but she came. They danced, and Kolya, out of burning shyness, kept talking and talking, and since Zoya worked in the library, he talked about Russian literature. Zoya at first assented, and in the end, her clumsily painted lips stuck out resentfully:

“You’re crunching too hard, Comrade Lieutenant.”

In school language, this meant that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov was wondering. Then Kolya understood this, and when he arrived at the barracks, he discovered that he was crunching in the most natural and pleasant way.

“I’m crunchy,” he told his friend and bunkmate, not without pride.

They were sitting on the windowsill in the second floor corridor. It was the beginning of June, and the nights at the school smelled of lilacs, which no one was allowed to break.

“Crunch for your health,” said the friend. “But, you know, not in front of Zoya: she’s a fool, Kolka.” She is a terrible fool and is married to a sergeant major from the ammunition platoon.

But Kolya listened with half an ear because he was studying the crunch. And he really liked this crunch.

The next day the guys began to leave: everyone was entitled to leave. They said goodbye noisily, exchanged addresses, promised to write, and one after another disappeared behind the barred gates of the school.

But for some reason, Kolya was not given travel documents (though the journey was nothing at all: to Moscow). Kolya waited two days and was just about to go find out when the orderly shouted from afar:

- Lieutenant Pluzhnikov to the commissar!..

The commissioner, who looked very much like the suddenly aged artist Chirkov, listened to the report, shook hands, indicated where to sit, and silently offered cigarettes.

“I don’t smoke,” said Kolya and began to blush: he was generally thrown into a fever with extraordinary ease.

“Well done,” said the commissioner. “But, you know, I still can’t quit, I don’t have enough willpower.”

And he lit a cigarette. Kolya wanted to advise how to strengthen his will, but the commissar spoke again:

– We know you, Lieutenant, as an extremely conscientious and diligent person. We also know that you have a mother and sister in Moscow, that you haven’t seen them for two years and miss them. And you are entitled to vacation. “He paused, got out from behind the table, walked around, looking intently at his feet. – We know all this and still decided to turn to you with a request... This is not an order, this is a request, please note, Pluzhnikov. We no longer have the right to order you...

– I’m listening, Comrade Regimental Commissar. “Kolya suddenly decided that he would be offered to go work in intelligence, and he tensed up, ready to shout deafeningly: “Yes!”

“Our school is expanding,” said the commissioner. “The situation is complicated, there is war in Europe, and we need to have as many combined arms commanders as possible.” In this regard, we are opening two more training companies. But they are not yet fully staffed, but property is already arriving. So we ask you, Comrade Pluzhnikov, to help us deal with this property. Accept it, capitalize it...

And Kolya Pluzhnikov remained at the school in a strange position “wherever they send you.” His whole course had long since left, he had been having affairs for a long time, sunbathing, swimming, dancing, and Kolya was diligently counting bedding sets, linear meters of foot wraps and pairs of cowhide boots. And he wrote all sorts of reports.

Two weeks passed like this. For two weeks, Kolya patiently, from waking up until bedtime and seven days a week, received, counted and arrived property, without ever leaving the gate, as if he was still a cadet and waiting for leave from an angry foreman.

In June there were few people left at the school: almost everyone had already left for the camps. Usually Kolya did not meet with anyone, he was up to his neck busy with endless calculations, statements and acts, but somehow he was joyfully surprised to find that he was... welcomed. They greet you according to all the rules of army regulations, with cadet chic, throwing your palm to your temple and jauntily raising your chin. Kolya tried his best to answer with tired carelessness, but his heart sank sweetly in a fit of youthful vanity.

That's when he started walking in the evenings. With his hands behind his back, he walked straight towards the groups of cadets smoking before bed at the entrance to the barracks. Wearily, he looked sternly in front of him, and his ears grew and grew, catching a cautious whisper:

- Commander...

And, already knowing that his palms were about to fly elastically to his temples, he carefully furrowed his eyebrows, trying to give his round, fresh, like a French roll, face an expression of incredible concern...

- Hello, Comrade Lieutenant.

It was on the third evening: nose to nose - Zoya. In the warm twilight, white teeth sparkled with a chill, and numerous frills moved by themselves, because there was no wind. And this living thrill was especially frightening.

- For some reason you are nowhere to be seen, Comrade Lieutenant. And you don’t come to the library anymore...

- Job.

-Are you left at the school?

“I have a special task,” Kolya said vaguely.

For some reason they were already walking side by side and in the wrong direction.

Zoya talked and talked, laughing incessantly; he did not grasp the meaning, surprised that he was so obediently walking in the wrong direction. Then he thought with concern whether his uniform had lost its romantic crunch, moved his shoulder, and the sword belt immediately responded with a tight, noble creak...

-...Terribly funny! We laughed so much, we laughed so much. You're not listening, Comrade Lieutenant.

- No, I'm listening. You laughed.

She stopped: her teeth flashed again in the darkness. And he no longer saw anything except this smile.

– You liked me, didn’t you? Well, tell me, Kolya, did you like it?..

“No,” he answered in a whisper. - I just do not know. You're married.

“Married?” She laughed noisily. - Married, right? You were told? So what if she’s married? I accidentally married him, it was a mistake...

Somehow he grabbed her by the shoulders. Or maybe he didn’t take it, but she herself moved them so deftly that his hands suddenly appeared on her shoulders.

“By the way, he left,” she said matter-of-factly. “If you walk along this alley to the fence, and then along the fence to our house, no one will notice. You want some tea, Kolya, don't you?

He already wanted tea, but then a dark spot moved towards them from the alley darkness, swam and said:

- Sorry.

- Comrade regimental commissar! – Kolya desperately shouted, rushing after the figure who stepped to the side. - Comrade regimental commissar, I...

- Comrade Pluzhnikov? Why did you leave the girl? Ay, ay.

- Yes of course. - Kolya rushed back and said hastily: - Zoya, excuse me. Affairs. Official matters.

What Kolya muttered to the commissar as he made his way out of the lilac alley into the calm expanse of the school parade ground, he completely forgot within an hour. Something about a footcloth of non-standard width, or, it seems, a standard width, but not quite a linen... The commissioner listened and listened, and then asked:

- What was this, your friend?

- No, no, what are you talking about! - Kolya was scared. - What are you talking about, Comrade Regimental Commissar, this is Zoya from the library. I didn’t give her the book, so...

And he fell silent, feeling that he was blushing: he had great respect for the good-natured elderly commissar and was embarrassed to lie. However, the commissar started talking about something else, and Kolya somehow came to his senses.

– It’s good that you don’t run the documentation: little things in our military life play a huge disciplinary role. For example, a civilian can sometimes afford something, but we, career commanders of the Red Army, cannot. We cannot, for example, walk with a married woman, because we are in plain sight, we must always, every minute, be a model of discipline for our subordinates. And it’s very good that you understand this... Tomorrow, Comrade Pluzhnikov, at eleven thirty I ask you to come to me. Let's talk about your future service, maybe we'll go to the general.

- Well, then, see you tomorrow. “The commissar extended his hand, held it, and said quietly: “But the book will have to be returned to the library, Kolya.” Have to!..

It turned out very badly, of course, that I had to deceive the comrade regimental commissar, but for some reason Kolya was not too upset. In the future, a possible date with the head of the school was expected, and yesterday’s cadet was looking forward to this date with impatience, fear and trepidation, like a girl waiting for a meeting with her first love. He got up long before getting up, polished his crisp boots until they glowed on their own, hemmed a fresh collar and polished all the buttons. In the command canteen - Kolya was monstrously proud that he fed in this canteen and personally paid for the food - he could not eat anything, but only drank three servings of dried fruit compote. And at exactly eleven he arrived at the commissar.

- Oh, Pluzhnikov, great! – Lieutenant Gorobtsov, the former commander of Kolya’s training platoon, was sitting in front of the door of the commissar’s office, also polished, ironed and tightened. - How's it going? Are you done with foot wraps?

Pluzhnikov was a detailed man and therefore told everything about his affairs, secretly wondering why Lieutenant Gorobtsov was not interested in what he, Kolya, was doing here. And he ended with a hint:

“Yesterday, Comrade Regimental Commissar also asked me about business. And he ordered...

Lieutenant Velichko was also the commander of a training platoon, but the second, and always argued with Lieutenant Gorobtsov on all occasions. Kolya did not understand anything of what Gorobtsov told him, but nodded politely. And when he opened his mouth to ask for clarification, the door of the commissar’s office swung open and a beaming and also very smart Lieutenant Velichko came out.

“They gave me a company,” he told Gorobtsov. - I wish the same!

Gorobtsov jumped up, straightened his tunic as usual, pushing all the folds back in one movement, and entered the office.

“Hello, Pluzhnikov,” Velichko said and sat down next to him. - Well, how are you, in general? Did you pass everything and accept everything?

- In general, yes. – Kolya again spoke in detail about his affairs. But he didn’t have time to hint anything about the commissar, because the impatient Velichko interrupted earlier:

- Kolya, they will offer you - ask me. I said a few words there, but you, in general, ask.

- Where to apply?

Then the regimental commissar and lieutenant Gorobtsov came out into the corridor, and Velichko and Kolya jumped up. Kolya began “on your orders...”, but the commissioner did not listen to the end:

“Let’s go, Comrade Pluzhnikov, the general is waiting.” You are free, comrade commanders.

They went to the head of the school not through the reception room, where the duty officer was sitting, but through an empty room. In the depths of this room there was a door through which the commissioner went out, leaving the preoccupied Kolya alone.

Until now, Kolya had met with the general, when the general handed him a certificate and a personal weapon, which tugged at his side so pleasantly. There was, however, one more meeting, but Kolya was embarrassed to remember it, and the general forgot forever.

This meeting took place two years ago, when Kolya – still a civilian, but already with a clipper haircut – together with other cropped men had just arrived from the station at the school. Right on the parade ground they unloaded their suitcases, and the mustachioed foreman (the same one they were trying to beat after the banquet) ordered everyone to go to the bathhouse. Everyone went - still out of formation, in a herd, talking loudly and laughing - but Kolya hesitated because he had chafed his leg and was sitting barefoot. While he was putting on his boots, everyone had already disappeared around the corner. Kolya jumped up and was about to rush after him, but then they suddenly called out to him:

-Where are you going, young man?

The thin, short general looked at him angrily.

“There is an army here, and orders are carried out unquestioningly.” You have been ordered to guard the property, so guard it until a change comes or the order is canceled.

No one gave Kolya an order, but Kolya no longer doubted that this order seemed to exist by itself. And therefore, awkwardly stretching out and muffledly shouting: “Yes, Comrade General!” – stayed with the suitcases.

And the guys, as luck would have it, disappeared somewhere. Then it turned out that after the bath they received cadet uniforms, and the sergeant major took them to the tailor's workshop so that everyone could have their clothes tailored to their figure. All this took a lot of time, and Kolya obediently stood next to the things no one needed. He stood there and was extremely proud of it, as if he were guarding an ammunition depot. And no one paid attention to him until two gloomy cadets, who had received special assignments for yesterday's AWOL, came to get their things.

- I won’t let you in! - Kolya shouted. – Don’t you dare come closer!..

- What? – one of the penalty box asked rather rudely. - Now I’ll hit you in the neck...

- Back! – Pluzhnikov yelled enthusiastically. - I am a sentry! I order!..

Naturally, he did not have a weapon, but he screamed so much that the cadets decided not to get involved, just in case. They went for the senior officer, but Kolya did not obey him either and demanded either a change or cancellation. And since there was no change and could not be, they began to find out who appointed him to this post. However, Kolya refused to engage in conversation and made noise until the school duty officer showed up. The red bandage worked, but after giving up his post, Kolya did not know where to go or what to do. And the duty officer didn’t know either, and when they figured it out, the bathhouse had already closed, and Kolya had to live as a civilian for another day, but then incur the vengeful wrath of the foreman...

And today I had to meet with the general for the third time. Kolya wanted this and was desperately cowardly because he believed in mysterious rumors about the general’s participation in the Spanish events. And having believed, I could not help but be afraid of the eyes that had only recently seen real fascists and real battles.

Finally the door opened slightly, and the commissar beckoned him with his finger. Kolya hastily pulled down his tunic, licked his suddenly dry lips and stepped behind the blank curtains.

The entrance was opposite the official one, and Kolya found himself behind the general’s stooped back. This confused him somewhat, and he shouted the report not as clearly as he had hoped. The general listened and pointed to a chair in front of the table. Kolya sat down, putting his hands on his knees and straightening up unnaturally. The general looked at him carefully, put on his glasses (Kolya was extremely upset when he saw these glasses...) and began to read some sheets of paper filed in a red folder: Kolya did not yet know that this was exactly what his, Lieutenant Pluzhnikov’s, private matter looked like.

- All A's and one C? – the general was surprised. - Why three?

“C in software,” said Kolya, blushing deeply, like a girl. “I’ll retake it, Comrade General.”

“No, Comrade Lieutenant, it’s too late,” the general grinned.

“Excellent characteristics from the Komsomol and from the comrades,” the commissar said quietly.

“Yeah,” the general confirmed, immersing himself in reading again.

The commissioner went to the open window, lit a cigarette and smiled at Kolya as if he were an old friend. Kolya politely moved his lips in response and again stared intently at the bridge of the general’s nose.

- It turns out that you are an excellent shooter? – asked the general. – A prize-winning shooter, one might say.

“He defended the honor of the school,” the commissioner confirmed.

- Wonderful! “The general closed the red folder, pushed it aside and took off his glasses. – We have a proposal for you, Comrade Lieutenant.

Kolya readily leaned forward without saying a word. After the post of commissioner for foot wraps, he no longer hoped for intelligence.

“We suggest that you remain at the school as the commander of a training platoon,” said the general. - The position is responsible. What year are you?

– I was born on the twelfth of April, one thousand nine hundred and twenty-two! - Kolya rattled off.

He said mechanically, because he was feverishly wondering what to do. Of course, the proposed position was extremely honorable for yesterday’s graduate, but Kolya could not just suddenly jump up and shout: “With pleasure, Comrade General!” He could not because the commander - he was firmly convinced of this - becomes a real commander only after serving in the troops, having shared the same pot with the soldiers, and learning to command them. And he wanted to become such a commander and so he went to a general military school when everyone was raving about aviation or, in extreme cases, tanks.

“In three years you will have the right to enter the academy,” the general continued. – And apparently, you should study further.

“We’ll even give you the right to choose,” the commissioner smiled. - Well, whose company do you want to join: Gorobtsov or Velichko?

“He’s probably tired of Gorobtsov,” the general grinned.

Kolya wanted to say that he was not at all tired of Gorobtsov, that he was an excellent commander, but all this was of no use, because he, Nikolai Pluzhnikov, was not going to stay at the school. He needs a unit, fighters, the sweaty strap of a platoon commander - all that is called in the short word “service”. That’s what he wanted to say, but the words got confused in his head, and Kolya suddenly began to blush again.

“You can light a cigarette, Comrade Lieutenant,” said the general, hiding a smile. – Have a smoke, think about the proposal...

“It won’t work,” the regimental commissar sighed. - He doesn’t smoke, that’s bad luck.

“I don’t smoke,” Kolya confirmed and carefully cleared his throat. - Comrade General, would you allow me?

- I’m listening, I’m listening.

- Comrade General, I thank you, of course, and Thanks a lot for trust. I understand that this is a great honor for me, but still allow me to refuse, Comrade General.

- Why? “The regimental commissar frowned and stepped away from the window. - What's the news, Pluzhnikov?

The general looked at him silently. He looked with obvious interest, and Kolya perked up:

“I believe that every commander should first serve in the troops, Comrade General.” This is what they told us at the school, and the comrade regimental commissar himself also said at the gala evening that only in a military unit can you become a real commander.

The commissioner coughed in confusion and returned to the window. The general was still looking at Kolya.

“And so, of course, thank you very much, Comrade General, - so I ask you very much: please send me to the unit.” To any unit and for any position.

Kolya fell silent, and there was a pause in the office. However, neither the general nor the commissar noticed her, but Kolya felt her reaching out and was very embarrassed.

- Of course, I understand, Comrade General, that...

“But he’s a young fellow, commissar,” the chief suddenly said cheerfully. - You’re a good fellow, lieutenant, by God, you’re a good fellow!

And the commissar suddenly laughed and clapped Kolya firmly on the shoulder:

– Thanks for the memory, Pluzhnikov!

And all three smiled as if they had found a way out of a not very comfortable situation.

- So, to the unit?

- To the unit, Comrade General.

- Won't you change your mind? – The boss suddenly switched to “you” and did not change his address.

– And it doesn’t matter where they send you? – asked the commissioner. - What about his mother, little sister?.. He doesn’t have a father, Comrade General.

- I know. “The general hid his smile, looked seriously, and drummed his fingers on the red folder. - Will a special Western one suit you, Lieutenant?

Kolya turned pink: they dreamed of serving in the Special Districts as an unimaginable success.

– Do you agree with the platoon commander?

“Comrade General!..” Kolya jumped up and immediately sat down, remembering discipline. – Thank you very, very much, Comrade General!..

“But on one condition,” the general said very seriously. – I give you, lieutenant, a year of military practice. And exactly one year later I will request you back to the school, to the position of commander of a training platoon. Agree?

- I agree, Comrade General. If you order...

- We will order, we will order! – the commissioner laughed. – We need such non-smoking passions as we need.

“There’s just one problem here, Lieutenant: you can’t get a vacation.” You should be in the unit on Sunday at the latest.

“Yes, you won’t have to stay with your mother in Moscow,” the commissar smiled. -Where does she live there?

– On Ostozhenka... That is, now it’s called Metrostroevskaya.

“On Ostozhenka...” the general sighed and, standing up, extended his hand to Kolya: “Well, happy to serve, lieutenant.” I'm waiting in a year, remember!

- Thank you, Comrade General. Goodbye! – Kolya shouted and marched out of the office.

In those days, it was difficult to obtain train tickets, but the commissioner, escorting Kolya through the mysterious room, promised to get this ticket. All day long Kolya handed in his cases, ran around with a round sheet, and received documents from the combat department. There another pleasant surprise awaited him: the head of the school issued an order to thank him for completing a special task. And in the evening, the duty officer handed over a ticket, and Kolya Pluzhnikov, carefully saying goodbye to everyone, departed for the place of his new service through the city of Moscow, having three days left: until Sunday...

2

The train arrived in Moscow in the morning. Kolya got to Kropotkinskaya by metro - the most beautiful metro in the world; he always remembered this and felt an incredible sense of pride as he descended underground. He got off at the Palace of Soviets station; Opposite, a blank fence rose, behind which something knocked, hissed and rumbled. And Kolya also looked at this fence with great pride, because behind it the foundation of the tallest building in the world was being laid: the Palace of the Soviets with a giant statue of Lenin at the top.

Kolya stopped near the house where he left for college two years ago. This house - the most ordinary Moscow apartment building with arched gates, a backyard and many cats - this house was very special to him. Here he knew every staircase, every corner and every brick in every corner. This was his home, and if the concept of “Motherland” was felt as something grandiose, then the house was simply the most native place on the whole earth.

Kolya stood near the house, smiled and thought that there, in the yard, on the sunny side, Matveevna was probably sitting, knitting an endless stocking and talking to everyone who passed by. He imagined how she would stop him and ask where he was going, whose he was and where he was from. For some reason he was sure that Matveevna would never recognize him, and he was happy in advance.

And then two girls came out of the gate. The one who was a little taller had a dress with short sleeves, but the difference between the girls ended there: they wore the same hairstyles, the same white socks and white rubber shoes. The little girl glanced briefly at the lieutenant, who was stretched to the point of impossibility, with a suitcase, turned after her friend, but suddenly slowed down and looked back again.

- Faith? – Kolya asked in a whisper. - Verka, little devil, is that you?..

The squealing was heard at the Manege. His sister ran towards his neck, as in childhood, bending her knees, and he could barely resist: she had become quite heavy, this little sister of his...

- Kolya! Ring! Kolka!..

– How big you have become, Vera.

- Sixteen years! – she said proudly. – And you thought you were growing up alone, right? Oh, you're already a lieutenant! Valyushka, congratulate comrade lieutenant.

The tall one, smiling, stepped forward:

- Hello, Kolya.

He buried his gaze into his chintz-covered chest. He remembered very well two skinny girls with legs like grasshoppers. And he quickly looked away:

- Well, girls, you are unrecognizable...

- Oh, we're going to school! – Vera sighed. – Today is the last Komsomol meeting, and it’s simply impossible not to go.

“We’ll meet in the evening,” said Valya.

She shamelessly looked at him with surprisingly calm eyes. This made Kolya embarrassed and angry, because he was older and by all laws girls should be embarrassed.

- I'm leaving in the evening.

- Where? – Vera was surprised.

“To a new duty station,” he said, not without importance. - I'm passing through here.

- So, at lunchtime. – Valya caught his gaze again and smiled. - I'll bring the gramophone.

– Do you know what kind of records Valyushka has? Polish, you'll rock! - Well, we ran.

- Mom is at home?

They really ran - to the left, towards the school: he himself had been running this way for ten years. Kolya looked after her, watched how the hair flew up, how the dresses and tanned calves fluttered, and wanted the girls to look back. And he thought: “If they look back, then...” He didn’t have time to guess what would happen then: the tall one suddenly turned to him. He waved back and immediately bent down to pick up the suitcase, feeling himself begin to blush.

“This is terrible,” he thought with pleasure. “Well, why on earth should I blush?”

He walked through the dark corridor of the gate and looked to the left, at the sunny side of the yard, but Matveevna was not there. This unpleasantly surprised him, but then Kolya found himself in front of his own entrance and flew into the fifth floor in one breath.

Mom didn’t change at all, and she even wore the same robe, with polka dots. Seeing him, she suddenly began to cry:

- God, how much you look like your father!..

Kolya remembered his father vaguely: in 1926 he left for Central Asia and – didn’t return. Mom was called to the Main Political Directorate and there they told me that Commissar Pluzhnikov had been killed in a battle with the Basmachi near the village of Koz-Kuduk.

Mom fed him breakfast and talked continuously. Kolya agreed, but listened absentmindedly: he kept thinking about this suddenly grown Valka from apartment forty-nine and really wanted his mother to talk about her. But my mother was interested in other questions:

– ...And I tell them: “My God, my God, do children really have to listen to this loud radio all day long? They have small ears, and in general it’s not pedagogical.” Of course, they refused me, because the work order had already been signed, and a loudspeaker was installed. But I went to the district committee and explained everything...

Mom was in charge of a kindergarten and was constantly in some strange troubles. In two years, Kolya has become quite unaccustomed to everything and now he would listen with pleasure, but this Valya-Valentina was always spinning in his head...

“Yes, mom, I met Verochka at the gate,” he said casually, interrupting his mother at the most exciting point. - She was with this... Well, what’s her name?.. With Valya...

- Yes, they went to school. Would you like some more coffee?

- No, mom, thank you. - Kolya walked around the room, creaking to his satisfaction...

Mom again began to remember something from kindergarten, but he interrupted:

- Well, this Valya is still studying, right?

- What, Kolyusha, don’t you remember Vali? She didn't leave us. “Mom suddenly laughed. “Verochka said that Valyusha was in love with you.”

- This is nonsense! – Kolya shouted angrily. - Nonsense!..

“Of course, nonsense,” my mother agreed unexpectedly easily. “She was just a girl then, but now she’s a real beauty.” Our Verochka is also good, but Valya is simply beautiful.

“What a beauty,” he said grumpily, with difficulty hiding the joy that suddenly overwhelmed him. - An ordinary girl, like there are thousands in our country... Better tell me, how Matveevna feels? I enter the yard...

“Our Matveevna died,” mother sighed.

- How did you die? – he didn’t understand.

“People are dying, Kolya,” my mother sighed again. – You’re happy, you don’t have to think about it yet.

And Kolya thought that he was really happy, since he met such an amazing girl near the gate, and from the conversation he found out that this girl was in love with him...

After breakfast, Kolya went to the Belorussky station. The train he needed left at seven in the evening, which was completely impossible. Kolya walked around the station, sighed and not very decisively knocked on the door of the assistant military commandant on duty.

- Later? - The assistant on duty was also young and winked undignifiedly: - What, lieutenant, matters of the heart?

“No,” Kolya said, lowering his head. - My mother is sick, it turns out. Very... - Here he was afraid that he might actually be causing illness, and hastily corrected himself: - No, not very, not very...

“I see,” the duty officer winked again. - Now let's see about mom.

He leafed through the book, then began making phone calls, seemingly talking about other things. Kolya waited patiently, looking at the transportation posters. Finally the attendant hung up the last phone:

– Do you agree with the transplant? Departure at three minutes past twelve, train Moscow - Minsk. There is a transfer in Minsk.

“I agree,” said Kolya. – Thank you very much, Comrade Senior Lieutenant.

Having received the ticket, he immediately went into a grocery store on Gorky Street and, frowning, looked at the wines for a long time. Finally I bought champagne because I drank it at the graduation banquet, cherry liqueur because my mother made that liqueur, and Madeira because I read about it in a novel about aristocrats.

- You are crazy! - Mom said angrily. - What is this: a bottle for each?

“Ah!..” Kolya waved his hand carelessly. - Walk like that!

The meeting was a great success. It began with a gala dinner, for which my mother borrowed another kerosene stove from the neighbors. Vera hovered in the kitchen, but often burst in with another question:

-Did you fire a machine gun?

- Shot.

- From Maxim?

- From Maxim. And from other systems too.

“That’s great!” Vera gasped in admiration.

Kolya walked around the room anxiously. He hemmed a fresh collar, polished his boots and was now crunching all his belts. Out of excitement, he didn’t want to eat at all, but Valya still didn’t go and didn’t go.

- Will they give you a room?

- They will give, they will.

- Separate?

- Certainly. – He looked at Verochka condescendingly. - I am a combat commander.

“We will come to you,” she whispered mysteriously. - We’ll send mom and the kindergarten to the dacha and come to you...

- Who are we"?

He understood everything, and his heart seemed to sway.

– So who are “we”?

– Don’t you understand? Well, “we” is us: me and Valyushka.

Kolya coughed to hide the inopportunely creeping smile and said gravely.

Boris Vasiliev

Not on the lists

Part one

In his entire life, Kolya Pluzhnikov has never encountered as many pleasant surprises as he has experienced in the last three weeks. He had been waiting for the order to confer a military rank on him, Nikolai Petrovich Pluzhnikov, for a long time, but following the order, pleasant surprises rained down in such abundance that Kolya woke up at night from his own laughter.

After the morning formation, at which the order was read out, they were immediately taken to the clothing warehouse. No, not the general cadet one, but the cherished one, where chrome boots of unimaginable beauty, crisp sword belts, stiff holsters, commander bags with smooth lacquer tablets, overcoats with buttons and strict diagonal tunics were issued. And then everyone, the entire graduating class, rushed to the school tailors to have the uniform adjusted to both height and waist, to blend into it as if into their own skin. And there they jostled, fussed and laughed so much that the official enamel lampshade began to sway under the ceiling.

In the evening, the head of the school himself congratulated everyone on graduation and presented them with the “Red Army Commander’s Identity Card” and a weighty TT. The beardless lieutenants loudly shouted the pistol number and squeezed the general's dry palm with all their might. And at the banquet the commanders of the training platoons were enthusiastically rocking and trying to settle scores with the foreman. However, everything turned out well, and this evening - the most beautiful of all evenings - began and ended solemnly and beautifully.

For some reason, it was on the night after the banquet that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov discovered that he was crunching. It crunches pleasantly, loudly and courageously. It crunches with fresh leather sword belts, uncrumpled uniforms, and shining boots. The whole thing crunches like a brand new ruble, which the boys of those years easily called “crunch” for this feature.

Actually, it all started a little earlier. Yesterday's cadets came with their girls to the ball that followed the banquet. But Kolya didn’t have a girlfriend, and he, hesitatingly, invited the librarian Zoya. Zoya pursed her lips in concern and said thoughtfully: “I don’t know, I don’t know...”, but she came. They danced, and Kolya, out of burning shyness, kept talking and talking, and since Zoya worked in the library, he talked about Russian literature. Zoya at first assented, and in the end, her clumsily painted lips stuck out resentfully:

You're crunching too hard, Comrade Lieutenant. In school language, this meant that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov was wondering. Then Kolya understood this, and when he arrived at the barracks, he discovered that he was crunching in the most natural and pleasant way.

“I’m crunching,” he told his friend and bunkmate, not without pride.

They were sitting on the windowsill in the second floor corridor. It was the beginning of June, and the nights at the school smelled of lilacs, which no one was allowed to break.

Crunch for your health, said the friend. - Only, you know, not in front of Zoya: she’s a fool, Kolka. She is a terrible fool and is married to a sergeant major from the ammunition platoon.

But Kolka listened with half an ear because he was studying the crunch. And he really liked this crunch.

The next day the guys began to leave: everyone was entitled to leave. They said goodbye noisily, exchanged addresses, promised to write, and one after another disappeared behind the barred gates of the school.

But for some reason, Kolya was not given travel documents (though the journey was nothing at all: to Moscow). Kolya waited two days and was just about to go find out when the orderly shouted from afar:

Lieutenant Pluzhnikov to the commissar!..

The commissioner, who looked very much like the suddenly aged artist Chirkov, listened to the report, shook hands, indicated where to sit, and silently offered cigarettes.

“I don’t smoke,” said Kolya and began to blush: he was generally thrown into a fever with extraordinary ease.

Well done,” said the commissioner. - But I, you know, still can’t quit, I don’t have enough willpower.

And he lit a cigarette. Kolya wanted to give advice on how to strengthen his will, but the commissar spoke again.

We know you, Lieutenant, as an extremely conscientious and efficient person. We also know that you have a mother and sister in Moscow, that you haven’t seen them for two years and miss them. And you are entitled to vacation. - He paused, got out from behind the table, walked around, looking intently at his feet. - We know all this, and yet we decided to make a request to you... This is not an order, this is a request, please note, Pluzhnikov. We no longer have the right to order you...

I'm listening, Comrade Regimental Commissar. - Kolya suddenly decided that he would be offered to go to work in intelligence, and he tensed up, ready to scream deafeningly: “Yes!..”

1

In his entire life, Kolya Pluzhnikov has never encountered as many pleasant surprises as he has experienced in the last three weeks. He had been waiting for the order to confer a military rank on him, Nikolai Petrovich Pluzhnikov, for a long time, but following the order, pleasant surprises rained down in such abundance that Kolya woke up at night from his own laughter.

After the morning formation, at which the order was read out, they were immediately taken to the clothing warehouse. No, not the general cadet one, but the cherished one, where chrome boots of unimaginable beauty, crisp sword belts, stiff holsters, commander bags with smooth lacquer tablets, overcoats with buttons and strict diagonal tunics were issued. And then everyone, the entire graduating class, rushed to the school tailors to have the uniform adjusted to both height and waist, to blend into it as if into their own skin. And there they jostled, fussed and laughed so much that the official enamel lampshade began to sway under the ceiling.

In the evening, the head of the school himself congratulated everyone on graduation and presented them with the “Red Army Commander’s Identity Card” and a weighty TT. The beardless lieutenants loudly shouted the pistol number and squeezed the general's dry palm with all their might. And at the banquet the commanders of the training platoons were enthusiastically rocking and trying to settle scores with the foreman. However, everything turned out well, and this evening - the most beautiful of all evenings - began and ended solemnly and beautifully.

For some reason, it was on the night after the banquet that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov discovered that he was crunching. It crunches pleasantly, loudly and courageously. It crunches with fresh leather sword belts, uncrumpled uniforms, and shining boots. The whole thing crunches like a brand new ruble, which the boys of those years easily called “crunch” for this feature.

Actually, it all started a little earlier. Yesterday's cadets came with their girls to the ball that followed the banquet. But Kolya didn’t have a girlfriend, and he, hesitatingly, invited the librarian Zoya. Zoya pursed her lips in concern and said thoughtfully: “I don’t know, I don’t know...”, but she came. They danced, and Kolya, out of burning shyness, kept talking and talking, and since Zoya worked in the library, he talked about Russian literature. Zoya at first assented, and in the end, her clumsily painted lips stuck out resentfully:

You're crunching too hard, Comrade Lieutenant. In school language, this meant that Lieutenant Pluzhnikov was wondering. Then Kolya understood this, and when he arrived at the barracks, he discovered that he was crunching in the most natural and pleasant way.

“I’m crunching,” he told his friend and bunkmate, not without pride.

They were sitting on the windowsill in the second floor corridor. It was the beginning of June, and the nights at the school smelled of lilacs, which no one was allowed to break.

Crunch for your health, said the friend. - Only, you know, not in front of Zoya: she’s a fool, Kolka. She is a terrible fool and is married to a sergeant major from the ammunition platoon.

But Kolka listened with half an ear because he was studying the crunch. And he really liked this crunch.

The next day the guys began to leave: everyone was entitled to leave. They said goodbye noisily, exchanged addresses, promised to write, and one after another disappeared behind the barred gates of the school.

But for some reason, Kolya was not given travel documents (though the journey was nothing at all: to Moscow). Kolya waited two days and was just about to go find out when the orderly shouted from afar:

Lieutenant Pluzhnikov to the commissar!..

The commissioner, who looked very much like the suddenly aged artist Chirkov, listened to the report, shook hands, indicated where to sit, and silently offered cigarettes.

“I don’t smoke,” said Kolya and began to blush: he was generally thrown into a fever with extraordinary ease.

Well done,” said the commissioner. - But I, you know, still can’t quit, I don’t have enough willpower.

And he lit a cigarette. Kolya wanted to give advice on how to strengthen his will, but the commissar spoke again.

We know you, Lieutenant, as an extremely conscientious and efficient person. We also know that you have a mother and sister in Moscow, that you haven’t seen them for two years and miss them. And you are entitled to vacation. - He paused, got out from behind the table, walked around, looking intently at his feet. - We know all this, and yet we decided to make a request to you... This is not an order, this is a request, please note, Pluzhnikov. We no longer have the right to order you...

I'm listening, Comrade Regimental Commissar. - Kolya suddenly decided that he would be offered to go to work in intelligence, and he tensed up, ready to scream deafeningly: “Yes!..”

Our school is expanding,” said the commissioner. - The situation is difficult, there is a war in Europe, and we need to have as many combined arms commanders as possible. In this regard, we are opening two more training companies. But they are not yet fully staffed, but property is already arriving. So we ask you, Comrade Pluzhnikov, to help us deal with this property. Accept it, capitalize it...

And Kolya Pluzhnikov remained at the school in a strange position “wherever they send you.” His whole course had long since left, he had been having affairs for a long time, sunbathing, swimming, dancing, and Kolya was diligently counting bedding sets, linear meters of foot wraps and pairs of cowhide boots. And he wrote all sorts of reports.

Two weeks passed like this. For two weeks, Kolya patiently, from waking up until bedtime and seven days a week, received, counted and arrived property, without ever leaving the gate, as if he was still a cadet and waiting for leave from an angry foreman.

In June there were few people left at the school: almost everyone had already left for the camps. Usually Kolya did not meet with anyone, he was up to his neck busy with endless calculations, statements and acts, but somehow he was joyfully surprised to find that he was... welcomed. They greet you according to all the rules of army regulations, with cadet chic, throwing your palm to your temple and jauntily raising your chin. Kolya tried his best to answer with tired carelessness, but his heart sank sweetly in a fit of youthful vanity.