Personality - The adventures of Vasily Ivanovich behind enemy lines and on the front of love (part 1).

┌---------------------------------------┐
│░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ Personality ░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░│
└---------------------------------------┘
                                          
 (C) Alexander Markin
                              (W) DENIS/RS
                                          
LPR> With this text we decided to finish the
case "Personality". Some people liked him, some...
then no, but now, it is becoming a thing of the past, and
memories lose their meaning. So read-
those...                                     
                                          
 THE ADVENTURES OF VASILY IVANOVICH       
     BEHIND THE ENEMY AND ON THE FRONT OF LOVE.      
          ----------------------          
                                          
 PROLOGUE                  
                                          
The chimes struck on the Spasskaya Tower. On the Red
square of some citizen.             
 -How is my evolution defended? - for-
the leader thoughtfully asked Comrade Frunze,
trying to overcome what has come up out of place
libido.                                   
 “Let’s hit!” Mikhail said a littleVasilievich,
without specifying who and for what.               
 -Beat...-Ulyanov gave the go-ahead for the beating
dash Lenin.                               
 There was silence for about thirty minutes.                  
 Joyful chirping could be heard from the street
birds and the painful groans of a dying man
loda of Petrograd.                          
 -Who are we fighting with now? - curiosity-
said the leader.                             
 “With the black baron,” answered Frunze.       
 -And what, my friend, is there such a thing?         
 -Very interesting, very interesting! - the great one perked up
genius, - Tell me more, my dear!   
 The taciturn Mikhail spoke for three days
Vasilyevich about the black baron, Chapaev and civilians
Danish war.                            
 The Pre-Soviet Defense Council listened in fascination.       
 -Well, that’s all, you’re our comrade, I and
I knew without you! - on the fourth day he said
Ulyanov dashed Lenin and exhibited M.V. Frunze
out the door.                                 
 And on the Spasskaya Tower the chimes struck. On the Krasnoyarsk
noah square of some citizen...
                                          
 CHAPTER 1                  
          AN EXTRAORDINARY PERSONALITY.           
                                          
 The village of Dirty Chests had enough
dirt to be called Dirty, and not enough
enough chests to be calledSundu-
ki. In a large area that does not dry out in winter or forest
that central puddle bathed affectionately,
bearded sun and pink, dirty
manure and dirt piglet. The piglet is happy
lo grunted and happily lifted his head up
mouthy paws. Geese-swans swam past and
other waterfowl. Walked along the shore of the puddle
eternally perplexed chickens.  Up above, above
thatched hut roofs, in incredible
in zigzags of aerobatics the las-
dots, larks and other sparrows.        
 Vasily Ivanovich was sitting on a bench in a tree
Viennese house with intricate architrave-
we, eaten away by bark beetles, and looked at
to the light, worn in two places, flannelette
footcloth. Where exactly Chapaev wiped it, nav-
will always remain insoluble for historians
a mystery. Maybe it happened ten
years ago, during drill classes
tovka, in a distant Ural town, where
the future commander chased girls and
learned the basics of military science, more and more
spending time in the guardhouse and washing toilets
years ago. Or maybe a year ago, when I was drunk
fell out of the cart and ran for seven miles
crazy horse, never catching up
her...                                     
 But be that as it may, the footcloth remained -
It was dirty and stank of something. Years left
whether there is an indelible imprint on it, and
the revolution prevented it from being washed.  Then
civil war came...The commander himself smelled of moonshine, already
vigorously fermented in its strong or-
body in a good fume. Eyes, cloudy-
covered with morning weeds, similar in color to
The other day I drank technical alcohol.
Something important was missing from my thoughts...  
 A butterfly flew into the window and could not for a long time
fly back, hitting the logs
the walls of the house with your trembling little body.       
 Green, cheerful flies were buzzing on the window.
 Chapaev looked at it for some time
footcloth, for some reason similar to a map of se-
of today's offensive.                   
 Behind the wall a cow mooed and grunted
pigs.  There was a stable there. There was a headquarters. To the right
a chicken coop is located, but the headquarters is still
stayed here...                        
 Half-drunk a jug of brine,
dug around the edges with white mold, gave a noticeable
relief.  A slow enlightenment began
removal, return of memory and its place in
history.                                  
 “Petka!” he shouted in an inhuman voice.
having commanded, scared to death behind the wall
the kindest animal - a cow.                
 “I-ah!” he responded, for some reason falling from
stove and hitting his head with a ringing sound -
iron cast iron                           
 For some time he sat on the floor, stupidly
staring at the holey knees of the yellowed
underpants.A young boy, but not mature enough and
brave, after yesterday I felt sick and shook
like in the great creations of Aivazovsky.    
 With an incredible effort of will, Petka lifted
faded, tired from frequent drinking
eyes and saw in the middle of the room a blurry
a white, white spot. It was Chapaev      
 - Where is the headquarters map? - the commander asked sternly
div.                                      
 “Here...” Petka reported as best he could and
he vomited.                             
 Vasily Ivanovich waited patiently.         
 The orderly expressed his gratitude several more times.
cherished his feelings, by thrusting
two fingers in the mouth and thrown out of the woman
a bowl of leftovers from yesterday's snack.         
 “Maybe that’s enough!?” Chapaev was indignant, so
as the picture of the aesthetic observed by him
did not bring pleasure.               
 The answer was inarticulate, intermittent.
caused by new spasms.                   
 Half an hour later Petka felt better. He wiped
sleeve his mouth and came out of the lu-
live                                       
 And a minute later Vasily Ivanovich turned
he held a headquarters map in his hands, now reminding
giving him a footcloth. For a long time he could not determine
divided by cardinal directions to take
correct azimuth. In addition, the map
was filled with something.                       
 His intense gaze, soaked in a jug with
pickle mustache,weathered in battles with con-
rrevolution face and crossing half
the thinker's wrinkle on his forehead - everything about him betrayed
an extraordinary personality.                     
 Petka watched his commander with
hand, clearly understanding that he is now
or he will start swearing, or he will snatch a saber.
The orderly's intuition never failed...
                                          
 A week ago, the valiant Vasily Ivanovich
telegraphed to Petrograd:               
                                          
 "M.V. Frunze fraction Cepro.              
     The village of Dirty Chests has been taken.       
     The black baron fled.                  
     Hurray!                                 
                                          
Chief Division Chapaev."        
                                          
 All week, fighters of the Twenty-fifth Infantry
Howling divisions rejoiced and drank. World-
the local inhabitants of Dirty Chests shied away from
hiding the invaders like hell from incense
their minor daughters, who
cellar, some in the attic, and some in the closet.      
 Grandfather Prokhor usually sat on the rubble
house with headquarters, procrastinating on a goat's leg and a com-
described the incident as inexplicable
paradox:                                 
 -Which power is better? Ugh! What are white
what red! There was order under the king.        
 Grandfather Panteleimon, a bald old man, answered
I said to Grandfather Prokhor:                         
 - You weren’t there?! It's such a mess
created?!                               
 A barefoot Chapaev appeared on the porch of the headquarters,
untied long johns and a hat with red
band.  He scratched the bare, thickly overgrown
chest with vegetation, looked around a hundred
ronam, yawned, walked until the wind and disappeared again
hall                                      
 “Revolution,” grandfather Prokhor yawned, crossing
mouth                                      
 -We didn’t even know such words before, -before-
Grandfather Panteleimon added, stroking his bald head
in his usual thoughtfulness.          
 And in the headquarters, in what was once reserved for kitchen-
a guardhouse, but separated by a light partition
what, the valiant division commander continued to twist
headquarters map in some vague thoughtfulness
news corresponding to a serious attack
laziness.                                    
                                          
 CHAPTER 2                  
           SECRET MEETING.           
                                          
 The day before, a secret meeting took place at headquarters.
broadcasting.  An offensive plan was developed
on whites. Two options were offered: per-
exit - go around the whites from the village of Verkh-
Magnifying glass; Andthe second is to bypass the whites from the side
we are in the village of Nizhnie Chuvyrlovki.             
 Since the most impassable road has long been
firmly entrenched in the Upper Loops, then
They decided to bypass the whites precisely through Lupy.  
 In addition, from the side of the Great Loops it is necessary
dimo had to cross the river in two places
Deep, to which Vasily Ivanovich was deep
Boko is not indifferent.                       
 -We’ll take the Black Baron like this! - abstruse
squinting, he said and drew
arrow with a red nibbled pencil
offensive                              
 Everyone nodded their heads in understanding, without trying
contradict the formidable division commander.           
 Chapaevsky genius of the great commander, his
exploits and courage have long been in everyone's minds
chenka.                                   
 “What proposals will there be?” asked Vasily
Ivanovich. - So it won’t be! - After enduring gentle-
new pause, he finished.                    
 At this secret meeting it was considered
closed. But no one was going to leave -
xia. Before the battle, and this has already become a tradition,
she was given a grandiose drinking party.         
 -Grandma!   To the cellar! - Vasily commanded
Ivanovich. - And so quickly! One hand is there, the other
leg here!                               
 The writer and political instructor Furmanov sat in the
which distance from those present in the headquarters
be officers and took notes for his ro-
mana glorifying howtheir exploits, and
exploits of the great division commander.                 
 He was sad: firstly, it was planned
big drinking party, and this couldn’t be worse from-
reflected in his literary successes; a
secondly, a large
a new offensive, during which it could
machine gunner Anka died.                 
 The writer had long planned the death of Anka in
in his novel, but in life he didn’t want that
tel.  He was drawn to Anka with an inexplicable
loving passion.                           
 “Anka,” he said, piercing her eyes like
drill, - the writer needs living characters, from
flesh and blood. You know, I'm the first to write -
tel of socialist realism.  I need it myself
understand everything, see it, feel it with my own hands,
fall! Let's go to bed, Anka! - sweating, pre-
he lied.                                 
 “Fuck you!” they answered him unkindly, and Fur-
manov, at best he received a death penalty, and in
at worst, a little lower.                       
 “I’m in the interests of literature!” bending
in half, the writer was offended.                
 - Feel Vasily Ivanovich, you nit! - Advice -
la machine gunner.                           
 Meanwhile, the secret meeting reached
its apogee.                            
 Vasily Ivanovich, throwing off his cloak from his shoulders,
like a Japanese ninja, with a whistle
cutting the air with a saber, trying to knock down the
a hole in a twenty-five liter quartersa-
Mogona.                                   
 Petka shouted "Hurray!" in uncertainty for
I'm delighted.  Anka made eyes like
to the commissar of the valiant twenty-fifth
rifle division, in parallel with the demonstration
ruya bare knees of flesh and blood sadness -
to Mr. Furmanov.                           
 -Grandma Pepelyukha, serving at the table
and not having time to climb into the cellar for cucumbers -
mi, every minute made the sign of the cross
mensions and said: “God, deliver me from
accursed adversaries, from the monsters of the Antichrist -
ta!"                                      
 Petka caught her by the wide sleeve of her sundress
and, breathing fumes into his face, asked:       
 -Are you, grandma, for the whites or for us?  
 “I’m illiterate, grandson,” she dodged the answer.
that grandmother.                                 
 But Petka was not satisfied with this.        
 “Maybe you’re a spy?” he asked.     
 -God be with you, killer whale! What kind of spy am I?
 -Which one, which one?!  Like this! English! Wait a minute
take it and poison us all. Eh?           
 “What are you talking about, my dear, that’s the cross!” she shook.
Grandma out of fear. - How can such a sin be allowed?
take it to your heart's content!                            
 “Look at me, grandma,” he threatened her with salty
cucumber Petka - I’ll put it up against the wall right away! And
I won't have time to fart!                
 The grandmother crossed herself and made desperate eyes.
for.                                       
 “Furmanov!” he suddenly yelled.Chief of Division.What
you write there, are you our literate?            
 -Roman, about you, Vasily Ivanovich!         
 “We’re so lucky to have him!” he continued.
the division chief is indignant - the devil sent to our state -
I'm catching it, as the crow described it! Xlober horseradish! Bo-
I’m asking you to release this leaflet for the third day, no
maybe! He’s writing a novel, motherfucker!          
 -I'll release it! “Tomorrow!” Furmanov promised.   
 - Well, you’re not a fool??? - Vasily Iva did not let up -
newbie - Tomorrow!  Yes, tomorrow we will all be stopped
They say, you are such a fool, who is your leaf -
Who's going to wipe his ass?              
 The political instructor did not know what to answer. He looked
at Chapaev with devoted eyes. Maybe
Furmanov did not like him, because he was his hero,
described in the novel had nothing to do with
the real Chapaev. But this was required by birth
socialist realism born of the revolution and its Furmanov
as the writer understood.                     
 Anka, to the sound of the buzzing headquarters, managed four
time to give herself up to the commission she liked -
ru, and her red scarf slipped to one side, and
Another freckle popped up on my nose,
always accompanied the emergence of a new love
bovnik.                                  
 Late in the evening Petka tried to go out to
yard, but could not direct himself
exactly in the center of the doorway and all the time
I hit my head on the door frame.             
 Before this, he explained the inappropriateness
capture of the Whites from the Upper Loops, so
howthere is nothing to do in that village, and the girls
not there! But in Nizhny Chuvyrlovki, according to data
intelligence, this stuff is a dime a dozen.     
 - Let's combine business with pleasure! - persuade -
Val Petka, pouring the division commander a full mug
moonshine.                                 
 But Vasily Ivanovich shook his head, not
wondering why the hell the orderly is messing around
your own business.                                
 -For these purposes, we have at our headquarters
Anka,” he remarked reasonably. “But to decompose
morally and politically I will not give it to you. But
Anka will give (she will catch up and give more!!!)!
Right, Furmanov?                             
 Hearing his last name, the political instructor shuddered, and
Anka, wincing as if from eating a lemon, for-
showed that it would be better for her to give herself 1–5 times
To the black baron than once to the political instructor...  
 “Vasily, you judge for yourself,” continued
stick to your line Petka, what are you all Anka yes
Anka! In Nizhniye Chuvyrlovki there are girls and butts -
hotter and bustier. Let's call a couple to war
military service, let us arrange it at the headquarters
part-time nurses. Eh?                  
 But it was useless to persuade Chapaev.  
 -Are we supposed to build or renovate brothels?
defend the revolution?                         
 - So, it’s not in the real sense, but in terms of
creating a family,” said Petka.            
 “So marry Anka,” Vasily suggested.
Ivanovich - it’s better for you than women anyway
find.-So she sleeps with the whole headquarters!            
 “So what now?!” the division chief was surprised. Howl-
when it ends, he will only sleep with you.
 But Petka wanted something completely different and completely
this is different.  He was tired of Anka. And he was tired of her
machine gun, which she always carried with
with you to bed.                          
 On top of everything else, Anka was rude and un-
an educated woman and even this could be noticed
Petka, who cannot read and write.        
 And Petka dreamed of quiet family comfort. Oh
coffee in bed About the kids. About the loving woman -
no, even if not a beauty.               
 And so, without getting into the doorway,
the orderly, leaving his boring occupation,
to spite my commander, I went to the yard, but
to the yard shown on the headquarters map for-
drowning both Verkhniye Lupy, and Nizhnye Chuvyrlovki, and
the settlement of Pyanovo, where Cherny settled
Baron. The Glubokaya River completely left the bank
gov.                                      
 By this time the commander had already gone to bed
and shook the hut with a rare timbre of snoring.  
 Behind the stove the cricket tried to imitate
himself Paganini.                            
 The headquarters of the famous division commander Chapaev can be
could be taken with bare hands. But it was impossible to take
to whom.                                     
                                          
LPR> Continuedlook a little lower...