Time to scatter stones - time and collect stones.

I spun with might and main! Once the two Il-4s had already been repaired, he appealed to Colonel Ivanitsky, the commander of the air regiment, with a request. They counted and it turned out - the next night one bomber flies to the port of Constanza, and the second to the oil fields of Ploiesti. But not with bombs, but with a more interesting thing. As I was issued a certificate by the head of the engineering department of my headquarters, “A long, thick-walled glass ampoule filled with a self-igniting mixture (based on sulfuric acid or white phosphorus), inserted into the incendiary bottle. When the bottle was broken, the ampoule was destroyed, which caused the ignition mixture to spontaneously ignite. ”

And, since I was given the information that the IL-4 would flood the Romanian port with these ampoules around 3 am, I agreed with the fleet command - at 3 o'clock the trophy submarine will be in the region of Constanta. That's where the fun came out! The port burned like a candle, the neutral ships rushed out of it like hares from a pack of wolves, realizing that they would not receive oil from the port’s reservoirs. And then hello destroyers Kriegsmarine - four torpedoes from the submarine's nasal apparatus. And at the exit - two of the feed! And here on the horizon the glow rises - oil towers are burning! The clouds below were highlighted in such a terrible blood-red color ...

The noise was all Ivanovo, as they say. Gebels on the radio choked with passion - "Eastern barbarians were terrible! Europe didn’t know that from the time of Rome’s fire! ”Yes, when they burned civilians in houses and sheds is one thing, but when oil rigs burn and Germany is left without oil and warships on the Black Sea ... When their sailors burn into terrible fire and just fly ashes to heaven - it's terrible! But to me - so normal!

So, after a report to the Host a week later, Li-2 brought back the “Truth” - I was awarded the Order of Lenin.

My medical girls together made up a training manual for cleaning wounds of fighters on the front line, adding that the commander of the front was the initiator of the “golden minutes” in treatment. Moreover, in the evening I sang to my beauties a song from the repertoire of my favorite group “White Eagle”, especially they liked the verse:

I'm afraid of your lips
For me, it's just death.
In the light of the lamp night
Your hair is crazy ...

Girls cry again, but recorded all the words. A couple of days later, “The Battle Sheet” with the poems “Letter of my beloved” knew everything at the front, many letters went to the wives and girlfriends of the fighters with such verses. The effect was awesome! Comrade Stalin in the conversation on "HF", clearly pleased with the robbery of our flyers in the port and oil fields of Romania, even joked that this is not typical for him:

- Comrade Kozlov, here Vasilyevsky is a spell against your removal and punishment, even if you fail Crimea. He says that with your popularity you will be a citizen of the godfathers to the king, and even bypass Simonov himself!

Yes, now I noticed how our fighters at the front treat me. Explicit adoration of the luminaries in their eyes. I tried to avoid stupid losses.And everyone knew that the commander had brought two wagons of medicine, and he was still trying to feed the wounded in the hospital. So, when the Germans threw out another five killers to my soul, they were immediately surrounded, but nobody managed to get to the special department. The fighters, having learned that the saboteurs were sent to kill the front commander, were furious and simply beat them with their legs and butts. They were equipped unusually. The saboteurs were all officers, dressed up in identical uniforms, green as a frog's skin, besides izlyapannye blurred black stripes. Boots with short cropped tops, laced at the side. On the belt, the SS dagger and the revolver Nagana and “Parabellum Long-09” with explosive bullets with poison - for close combat. Complement, so to speak, the appearance of gloves thick skin and black takes a little to one side. Tough guys. More precisely - coolly killed German dyeranty. Then there was an article in the Battle Leaflet, the fighters gave it away - these German murderers died an easy death, but if German saboteurs again try to kill the commander - they won't have an easy death!

Realizing this, now and Mehlis behaved with me much calmer - it cost him to yell at me, as around him were only the evil glances of the fighters. He realized with bestial stuff that waving his “Mauser” in front of my nose is now deadly dangerous for him. But he was particularly angry that I didn’t react at all to his instructions and howls, and when he finishes splashing saliva, I give orders in writing and quite opposite.

It is good that seeing my mood and tired, the girls caressed me heartily and soon, after a great blowjob of Sveta and sweet until the complete insanity of the kisses of Oli, I fell fast asleep. Olya, like a kitten, attached herself to the side and, gently embracing me, began to purr ...

And again, just incomprehensible. but a very vivid dream. It looks like another hello from our top-secret lab - my time is running out!

I stood on the edge of the abyss, but the abyss - and this is important - did not frighten me. But the space that opened before me was drunk and delighted. The air was clear, penetrated by golden sunshine and seemed to be painted in turquoise colors: bright blue and green. Under my feet lay a colossal caldera. A huge, vertical-walled crater of incredible depth. The opposite edge of the caldera was barely visible and, rather, was intuitively guessed than perceived by the eyes. Below, in the abyss, a white mist swirled around the bottom of the crater.

It's time to look around. It turns out that behind me lay the desert. The desert was everywhere it reached the eyes. Reddish crushed stone, low granite rocks of the color of dried blood. Dried river bed, ending in a crater, and ancient ruins of cyclopean structures. A collapsed bridge over the disappeared river, a half-collapsed fortress wall with a well-preserved gate tower on one side of a dry riverbed, and a complex megalithic structure of an incomprehensible purpose on the other side. It was so charming, incomprehensible and a bit creepy ...

I woke up with a pounding heart. Oli was not around. She, quietly casting, cooked breakfast in the kitchen. And, listening in her song, I remembered the favorite song of the beautiful singer Maria Parkhomenko:

Let the crows of doom speak,

And the horses trampled stubble,

Men were considered things

Mail, saddle and spear

Sveta’s beautiful legs were spanked on the floor — she immediately came running with a piece of paper and a pencil — to write it down. Especially everyone liked the ending:

And a woman will be a woman.

A friend, and mother, and wife.

She puts and wakes,

And he will give wine to the road ...

And again all three cry - yes I do not say goodbye to you, my beauties. Sveta quickly dressed in the editorial board of our “War Leaflet” - “Poems of my beloved”. When she returned, she laughed — the political directors heard that I would soon be commander-in-chief's new poems and literally “beat their hooves” in anticipation. Well, I - breakfast! Today I am not going to headquarters — I am waiting for a call from the station. The same old foreman remembered - at the Simferopol station there is one warehouse where trophies were brought from the Finnish war. But something I was worried, I do not know why.He drank a little Polish "old" in the mood - a dark brown liquid was barely splashing on the very bottom of the glass, and a large cup of black, like an African night, and sweet, like diabetic blood, coffee. He smoked a cigarette and reached for the second one, but then the regimental tube, more precisely - the handset sang “sabers bald!”, And it started. We are going to Dzhankoy. And let Tolbukhin give orders - not everyone is his chief of staff. Enough for me to be his nanny! And I myself decided to work on the principle:

“If you want it to be done well, do it yourself!”