Additional materials for the biography:

Colonel VOROPAEV Anatoly Petrovich was born July 29, 1940.

Graduated high school in 1957 in the city of Brest (Belarusian SSR). In the same year he entered and in 1962 graduated from the Minsk Higher Radio Engineering School of the Air Defense Forces of the country with a degree in radio engineering for special equipment with the qualification of radio engineer, and in essence, an engineer for S-75 and S-125 air defense systems. After graduating from college, he received his first military rank of "lieutenant-engineer" and distribution to military unit 03080 (10th State Research Test Site of the USSR Ministry of Defense) at the 35th site in the 4th team. Immediately I got to the tests of the S-200 air defense system, data transmission equipment, communications and documentation of the K9 command post. The head of the 4th team was Colonel E.S. Melik-Adamov, the head of the laboratory was Major Evgeny Andreevich Muravyov (now retired, lives in Grodno, Belarus).

Having passed the stages of a test engineer and a senior test engineer during the tests of the S-200 air defense system, in 1966 he was transferred to the position of a senior test engineer in the 1st team (head - Colonel Evgeny Chevyrin.) To the radar of the Azov system (1- and prototype). He took part in the tests of the 1st and 2nd samples of RSN-225.

In 1969 he was transferred to the position of test engineer in military unit 03080-L (1st Directorate of the test site). The head of the department was Colonel Vladimir Alexandrovich Perfilyev, the head of the department was Colonel Adolf Alexandrovich Volkov. He was engaged in testing radar equipment of the Azov system, obtaining and analyzing materials on target selection and their processing. On this topic, he rose to the position of deputy head of the department.

In 1974, the equipment and equipment (in the form of functionally completed devices) of the 5K17 measuring complex, created on the basis of the RSN-225, was delivered to the test site. At the 35th site, it was docked from the FZU, checked according to the Specifications and in the summer of 1975 transferred to Kamchatka (Ust-Kamchatsk, the Kura training ground) and installed in a pre-prepared position. At the same time, in the city of Krasnogorsk near Moscow, in the 1st Special Directorate for the Commissioning of Objects (Head of the Directorate, Lieutenant General Kolomiets Mikhail Markovich), a military unit was formed to operate and maintain the indicated measuring complex 5K17. To support the operation of the complex, analyze the characteristics of reflected signals from ballistic missiles and their warheads launched at the Kura, determine their trajectories and points of impact, the Directorate needed a specialist with experience in service and work at the training ground. Voropaev A.P. was offered the position of a senior engineer in one of the departments of the service of the chief engineer of military unit 73570 (the head of the department is also a veteran of the Balkhash training ground, Colonel Udalov Viktor Mikhailovich). He didn't refuse.

Anatoly Petrovich recalls: “ The analysis of the materials was preceded by “printouts” on paper of the BC posting records received at the facility on a magnetic medium and delivered to military unit 73570. This was very inconvenient and required a significant amount of time. It was decided to create an information exchange system (ISI) based on two satellite and radio relay channels using SPT 5Ts19 equipment. The peculiarity of this work was that thematic plan, in the development of the initial data for the interface equipment and software at the test center (IC) of the Office (military unit 03353), mainly military specialists were engaged. In 1977, the SIS was tested - the measuring signal and trajectory information from the Kamchatka Peninsula was transmitted to us via communication lines, processed in the Information Center and presented in the form of reports to the organization of MRP, Air Defense, Strategic Missile Forces, Navy, etc. real-time measuring information about the accompanied critical KO directly to the Control Center outer space(CKKP). Along with these works, since 1979, the department was entrusted with the commissioning of the head object of the A-135 missile defense system. In the process of solving this paramount task, I went from senior engineer to head of department (1981), replacing the retired Viktor Mikhailovich Udalov in this position. The commissioning of the A-135 missile defense system and the head object 2311 took a decade of my service in the Office. It was not only a lot of work, but also a school of work organization, interaction with organizations and institutions of industry and the Ministry of Defense, a sense of satisfaction from the work done and respect for others. The finale of my active participation in the creation of the A-135 System was the fulfillment in 1991 of the responsible and troublesome duties of the Secretary of the State Commission for Testing and putting the system into operation, followed by putting it on combat duty. In March 1992, due to the term of service (by age), I was dismissed from the ranks of the Armed Forces with the prospect of working at the RTI. Mints. But the “new times” came and life decided differently: two years after my dismissal, I worked at a factory, three years in a transport inspectorate, and from 1997 to the present I have been working as a technical director in a private company for the development of material resources (fuel storage warehouses, gas stations etc.). Having come a long way, I remain with the firm opinion that best years I and my family were at the training ground. Youth, energy, favorite work with the achievement of visible results, interesting leisure activities associated with fishing and hunting, prospects and confidence in the future - this is the explanation and the reason for this. In life and service, I have never enjoyed patronage, in the worst sense of the word. I changed not so many, by army standards, places of service, but life presented a number of, at first glance, accidents, which today are recognized by me as regularities. What do I mean: after the transfer from the training ground to the Directorate, my career path again crossed with those people who somehow managed my “course” from the very first independent steps on the training ground: Major General Markov Pavel Ivanovich - Head of the Directorate; Lieutenant General Kuzikov Valentin Ivanovich - Head of the Department; Colonel Voskoboinik Mikhail Alexandrovich - Deputy Chief Engineer; Colonel Zakharenko Leonid Yakovlevich - Deputy Chief Engineer; Colonel Udalov Viktor Mikhailovich - Head of Department; Colonel Butenko Valery Vladimirovich - Deputy Chief Engineer; Major General Popkovich (I don’t remember his name and patronymic) - Chief of Staff. I am grateful to all of them for my, I think, a completely fulfilled career as an officer.

For a great contribution to the testing of missile defense systems and systems, testing and commissioning of the unique A-135 anti-missile defense system, Colonel Voropaev A.P. awarded the order"For Service to the Motherland" of the III degree and fourteen state and departmental medals, including the Medal of the Order of the II degree "For Merit to the Fatherland".

He is married, has a son, daughter and granddaughter. Currently he lives with his family in the city of Krasnogorsk in the military camp "Pavshino". Takes an active part in the work of the Regional public organization"Veterans of the missile defense range", Moscow.

Voropaev again had now a lot of time to think.

Turning up the collar of his overcoat and pulling his hat over his forehead, he now sat for hours on the balcony of the district committee. Lena silently placed in front of him four times a day either a glass of tea, or a cup of milk, or a little bit of dryer. Three sacks of dried apples and pears were brought from some collective farm, and now everyone in the district committee drank uzvar from morning to night.

At first, there were few things to do. But now several foreign ships entered the port, and lively groups of American and English sailors, accompanied by admiring boys, appeared on the embankment. The guests were cheerful. The land of fantastic Russia disposed them to tenderness. They willingly took pictures with local residents, especially with female residents, seeing off the most interesting ones with applause.

The embankment quickly filled with people. Some of the guests, getting acquainted with the sights of the city, immediately chose the only restaurant, sheltered in a former hairdresser's. The Russian cocktail, a mixture of beer and vodka, was admired by everyone, knocking out even those who never gave up.

However, the need for special translators did not arise for anyone until several skirmishes occurred between the British and Americans on the basis of the division of military glory.

Having barely reconciled one group of sailors and almost vowing to return immediately to drink a large bottle of whiskey, Voropaev hobbled to another, where there was a risky conversation about Dunkirk, the honor of the flag and the fact that the British most often fight with their tongues.

Voropaev was struck by the fragility of friendly relations between the sailors of the two kindred allied powers, and even more so by the ease with which each side looked for reasons to quarrel. From the side it seemed that the state of friendship oppresses and almost offends both, and that it would be natural for them to feel in different camps.

The British - even when meeting them on the street - made an impression on Voropaev of people who, with sincere surprise, notice that the world, besides them, is inhabited by someone else and that these someone are people.

Willingly believing that the Russians are brave, the Norwegians are pious, the Spaniards are ardent, and the Belgians are reasonable, the British did not envy anyone, considering themselves above all. And the Americans gave the impression of very good-natured guys who hated only two peoples in the world - the Japanese and the British.

From the tedious duties of not so much an interpreter as an agent of order, Voropaev was relieved in an unexpected way one of the next few days. It was already firmly known that Stalin, Roosevelt and Churchill had arrived. There was a story about a boy who was given a cigar by the British Prime Minister. Some old sailor swore that Churchill was a boxer by vocation and had left the ring just before the war. Several women appeared, with whom Roosevelt spoke and bowed. All the beautiful foreigners were suspected of being Edens.

People talked a lot about Roosevelt.

He produced on those who saw him, good impression. The people love to feel the traits of asceticism in great people, for what, after all, is the measure of greatness, if not a feat?

Churchill, with an eternal cigar in his mouth, corpulent and decrepit in appearance, but fussy and agile and surprisingly sly, also made an impression, but not the same, not at all the same as Roosevelt.

In the premiere of England, one felt a tireless businessman, consumed by anxiety, as if not to be late for some most important event that could happen every minute. His manner of peering into faces, as if in anticipation that they must certainly speak to him, always aroused merry laughter, and his predilection for the jeeps, on which he was visible to the people and could bow with a satisfied look around, also aroused lively dissent.

He was the head of the allied army, and for this alone they wanted to respect him, but nothing was noticed in him that could captivate. In his guise, the street felt like an elderly cunning gentleman who had just had a hearty breakfast and washed it down with something unusually exciting.

One evening, Voropaev received a phone call to immediately go to the Pervomaisky collective farm, where some American, visiting hut after hut, was questioning the collective farmers using some incredibly idiotic questionnaire. The car was provided immediately. The desire to see his May Day members was so great that Voropaev left without going to the district committee.

The American had been jostling at the May Day people since early morning, and by the time Voropaev arrived, he was already in that almost inhuman state in which only hardened drunkards who had drunk many lakes can stay. Voropaev was almost convinced that this was some small human being, and he hardly believed the business card when he read the name of a famous journalist from the world's most famous newspaper.

Considering that in this form the guest, together with his own translator from the former tsarist officers, cannot be allowed to go anywhere alone, Voropaev ordered the visitors to be put to Ogarnova, and he himself went to Podnebesko.

Natasha was at home. Her plump body, full of unspeakable beauty, evidently seemed ugly to her, and she blushed as she greeted her. But everything in her—the smile, and the huge, heavy belly, and the fading of her face, exhausted by pregnancy—was so touching that Voropaev looked at her almost lovingly.

They started talking about Yuri, who had left for a consultation with a very famous professor, and that the situation was very favorable for their family, but then Styopka Ogarnov came running to say that the American got up and got drunk on Riesling, and they still couldn’t get an interpreter, although they watered sleepy.

Voropaev hobbled "with all his crutches" to the Ogarnovs.

Harris (such was the name of the American) turned out to be a very broken man, sympathetic to the Soviet order. They immediately took a liking to each other and started talking.

An hour later, they were arguing about issues of imminent peace, and, as happens only between well-known people, the harshness of expressions and extreme points of view did not cool their ardor ... Returning late in the evening to the regional center, they agreed to meet the next day to finish the conversation, but, as usual, they did not finish the second time and made a new, additional date.

It began with the fact that the American decided to find out what, in essence, the Soviet system, the Soviet people. They talked about national characters and national destinies and eventually argued about democracy.

Why?

The monopoly on the best democracy is in our hands. There is not and cannot be any other democracy, more beautiful than the American one. I'm talking seriously.

Is this your belief or the newspapers?

Of course, mine. I am interested - and this is completely disinterested - to convince my readers that you are almost Americans, but I feel that I cannot do this.

It will be - as you understand - not true.

Perhaps. But we study the world by comparison. Of course, we Americans are a 100% democracy. Everything that is similar to us, everything that approaches us we love and respect, everything that is far from us we reject. Don't forget that if you want us to like you.

Why, then, are your people so ill-disposed toward the English? After all, it seems that there is no other people who would so much like to be like you, and yet ...

As for traditional England, there is nothing more unprincipled in the world, and we Americans do not respect her very much, and sometimes this feeling is involuntarily transferred to the whole people ...

Let's say this is the explanation. But in that case, what do you have in common with the Chinese? If we talk about the so-called souls of the people, then you and the Chinese are souls of different colors and different dimensions.

The American laughed.

Do you think we can not do without the laws of capitalist development, the struggle for markets and other things?

Think.

You see, when sober, I'm bad at parrying an attack. Take me somewhere where you can have a drink in peace. By the way, I'll get rid of my translator.

Voropaev decided to take the American to Shirokogorov.

As Voropaev had supposed, the old man was very dissatisfied with the appearance of the foreigner.

But everything went very well. Shirokogorov spoke French. and Harris considered it his second mother tongue. Voropaev joined the conversation now in Russian, now in English.

We were talking about wine. Shirokogorov noted with chagrin that the wine of this year, the wine of Pobeda, would probably be unimportant for a number of reasons.

Do you expect to win this year? asked old Harris. “Tell me frankly.

Shirokogorov confirmed his assumption and was not particularly excited when he saw that the American wrote down something in a notebook.

Yes, we could win this year if you, gentlemen, don't interfere with us,' Shirokogorov repeated suddenly with an unexpected bilious smile.

We? Harris, like a hunting dog, looked into the old man's face and wrote, without lowering his eyes, in a notebook.

You and the English.

Well, that's downright wonderful. Why?

Yes, you always have something not ready. I am sure that you are still going through the stage of defeat and are not ready for victory.

Oh, that's great. Don't you think you still have a lot to do?

The old man, turning pale, hacked, as if from a podium:

Less than done. We have brought victory so close to you that you can reach it with your hand. But you are afraid that they will say that you were given a victory ...

What do you think?

Yes you.

I personally?

Exactly, you personally.

I, Shirokogorov, believe that the British certainly received it as a gift from us, but you did more in your sector than all the others, although much less than us, and without us you would never have won, even if you seriously wanted to win. Here. Write it all down, please. This is my personal opinion, of course.

And then Voropaev, noticing how wide the old man's nostrils swelled, tried to turn the conversation to the peaceful topics of winemaking as soon as possible.

Reluctantly, Shirokogorov led the guests to the tasting room, furnished with tables and chairs in the form of barrels. Svetlana Chirikova - Voropaev was surprised to see her at Shirokogorova's - put special tasting glasses on the table, widened downwards like lamp glass.

Let's start dry.

Svetlana poured greenish-golden wine into glasses. The old man raised the glass to his nose and sniffed several times, closing his eyes and throwing back his head, as if inhaling ammonia.

Grapes of this variety did not always get the right use from us, ”he began ruefully, forgetting everything in the world. — Riesling is a typical German and is really good only on the Rhine, but it seems to me that our Riesling from Alkadar is incomparable in terms of subtlety of taste. What will you provide?

Harris drank his glass, tossing his head like a rooster, because the special glass was designed not for quick drinking, but for slow sipping. Tasters do not drink, but, in fact, chew wine.

Looking guiltily into the empty dish, Harris begged Svetlana with signs for more. She, blushing, turned away, as if not understanding the signs.

See what morning, slightly muffled tones he has ... - admired Shirokogorov, shaking his glass.

Pour me a second one, miss,” said Harris decisively. - In the first glass, due to inexperience, I did not notice any tones.

When they tried the aligoté, Harris caught himself and spoke of a greenish tinge, but now it made no sense, because there was no such tint in the aligoté.

The old man frowned and began speeding up the tasting ceremony.

Here is the red table. It is made up of Cabernet, Malbec, Grenache and Mourved varieties. Solid, business wine, without any subtleties.

At the word "solid" Harris brightened up noticeably and swallowed his drink again before he could smell and examine the drink.

Hmm, really,” he said shyly, sniffing at his empty glass. - It, I would say, makes itself felt.

Yes, it quickly and even somewhat rudely enters into communication with a person, - said Shirokogorov.

Even rude? - Harris was ready to be offended by the business red. - I would not say. Maybe if you drink a bottle, otherwise it’s not at all rude.

He clearly wanted another glass of this businesslike, but Shirokogorov started talking about Madeira.

Here is a bright wine, lovely! We, I must tell you, specialize in strong and dessert wines. The dry climate and heat tension give us grapes that are sweet and fragrant, rich in possibilities. Figuratively speaking, our grapes love to turn into good wines... Look, what an amber-golden color! Old amber, huh? This is from the Portuguese varieties Sersial and Verdelio with the addition of Malvasia and Albillo. And what a delicate, well-coordinated bouquet, what a harmonious color!.. The wine is very bright, talented, brilliant appearance. And what, you know, is pleasant, - he turned to Voropaev, - from year to year it becomes better and better with us. Have you ever tasted, Alexey Veniaminych, red port wine from the Cabernet variety? At home, Cabernet produces the best Bordeaux table wines in the world, and we make port wine from it that is not inferior to the best Portuguese brands. I would call it pomegranate port. Molten Gem! And the taste! Full, strong, with the finest aroma.

Harris, writing down something in his notebook, silently nodded his head.

And here is our pinot gris. The French, as you may be aware, make Champagne or a light, fine table wine when combined with other pinots. But for some reason our champagne players don't particularly like it; and so, you know, we decided to make dessert wine from pinot gris. We discuss with the French in this way. And it worked. It turned out, as you can see now, a magnificent, very original wine, noble, the color of strong tea, full, thick, resinous.

Great wine! Harris approved. - Wonderful wine!

Aroma? Bouquet of rye crust, strong and memorable.

Don't you think, Mr. Professor, that wine should smell like wine, and not something else? I don't understand why wine smells like bread?

What is the smell of wine? replied Shirokogorov with a question, and seeing that Harris was not inclined to continue the argument, he signaled to Svetlana to clear the table of glasses.

Now we will try our crown wine - Muscat. This is the leader of our wines.

Svetlana brought four goblets golden in the light on a tray, and Shirokogorov was the first to cautiously raise his goblet to his face like a flower.

I'll ask you, do you smell the honey smell of the meadows? Do you feel it or not?

Actually, not quite,” said Harris, embarrassed. “At any rate, doctor, not meadows.

In this case, drink in one gulp to free the dishes. You, my dear, should drink shoe polish diluted with alcohol,” he added, as if jokingly.

Harris laughed.

I need to drink undiluted alcohol. And the meadows - I can imagine, Mr. Professor. And why do I need the smell of meadows when I drink wine? It's original. Purely in Russian.

We have a word in our vocabulary: inspiration. So, the wine that I create exists to inspire people. It smells of associations, of life. Wine that you have knocked over in one gulp, I should say, is usually drunk in small sips. It creeps into your spinal cord like a memory of wanderings and travels, of golden meadows on high cliffs, and you get younger if you are old. Your chest breathes with such a wide expanse, your eyes are riveted to such distances that everything difficult seems easy, the unsolvable - simple, the distant - close. This wine seems to me, poetically speaking, the soul of a highlander shepherd. The slopes of the mountains are covered with dense vineyards, far below is the sea. However, I apologize generously for the inappropriate lyrical digression... Let's go further ... This is the second type of our white muscat. He is the neighbor of the first one… They are separated by some twenty kilometers along the coast, but smell this second one for some reason, it smells most tenderly of citron. Where? Completely incomprehensible. We, as you know, do not have citrus fruits. Our wine does not know, moreover, any foreign impurities. And, probably, we will never know the origin of this strange smell.

That's what it smells like on ocean steamers. This is the smell of travel, discovery. The second Muscat seems to me to be the soul of a sailor who has crossed all oceans and experienced all storms, and in his old age peacefully talks about travels at the threshold of his home. Well, sir, so ... Now here in front of you - pink nutmeg. It differs from the first two only in color and in that very strange and also still inexplicable feature that it smells like a rose, but - mind you - not every season. The fragrance of a rose visits him, as it were, in special years. The wine is extremely beautiful, feminine. You heard old fairy tale about a nightingale in love with a rose? If I were a poet or a storyteller, I would definitely create a fairy tale about a grape bush in love with a rose flower.

Well, that's just wonderful," said Harris. “Sentimentally, like in America. But listen, doctor, how can you do all this harmonic nonsense when your country is in ruins? he asked, slipping the notepad into his pocket.

I am preparing for her elixirs of celebration, dear friend, wines of Victory, wines of relaxation and comfort. It is impossible to live only today, because it is most often the unfinished yesterday. The true present is always ahead.

Harris, without invitation, poured himself a nearly full glass of Muscat and topped it off with Madeira.

Shirokogorov shook his head disapprovingly.

I can never understand people who drink cocktails. Drinking is so unappetizing...

- ... only the British and Americans can, I know! Who is ahead of everyone? - Russians! Who eats the best? - Russians! Who drinks the best? - Russians! You know, I've heard this before and I know well the value of such statements.

You see, Mr. Harris, the point here is not that we eat better than anyone - we eat, perhaps worse than you, but we have long deserved better life for a lot, a lot. You won't write it down? It's a pity.

The soul of the local wines is not as militant as yours, Mr. Professor.

And very sorry. We still need martial qualities.

For what? You are going to end the war this year, and fascism will be defeated, as I understand it.

German - yes, but you, Mr. Harris, will take the place of the defeated, you will become the most ardent defender of capitalism in its worst forms. And there are many like you.

Why me? Harris took up his notebook again. - It's just wonderful. And Roosevelt, do you think, can one day also become a defender of fascism?

Why by all means a defender of fascism? He can be with us.

Ah, that's how! But why - the last question - do you prophesy this in regard to America? Isn't the fascist quality more suitable for England?

Churchill's England is your kept woman. This lady of very respectable years ventured to link her fate with a young womanizer, promising that she would leave him a good inheritance if he loved her while she was alive.

Well, everyone! I will earn money on you today, as I have not earned for a long time, Mr. Professor. Goodbye, thank you,” and Harris laughed wickedly.

To say that England is our kept woman! .. - he grumbled, getting into the car. - You heard, of course?

In my opinion, the old man is so right that it is not even interesting to talk about it. After all, there are two Englands, one of them is your kept woman.

We are not rich enough to support England.

But England, you see, is not so rich as to be given to you for free.

Voropaev ordered the driver to climb the mountains, to Merezhkova's children's sanatorium.

The children had lunch.

Voropaev led the guest into the "philosophers" room, where everyone was assembled except for Zina, but she, too, came running, learning about the American's arrival, and, as always, immediately began to talk about herself and her comrades.

Shura Naydenov was reading a book, turning the pages with a stick with a rough rubber tip, which he held in his teeth.

It's not humane,” said Harris in a whisper, though he probably did not admit that his English could be understood by anyone here.

What is not humane?

It is not humane to force this unfortunate creature to live. You understand what I want to say.

Do you think, Mr. Harris, that having a pair of arms and a pair of legs, you are much happier than him? And what is more humane to give you the opportunity to live? So I understand you?

Yes. So.

I disagree.

Harris, meanwhile, did not let up.

So tell me, what kind of experiments is this child for? he asked Voropaev. “Are you so sure that a genius will definitely grow out of him?”

I admit it, but I don't insist on it.

So what do you expect to grow in this case?

Human. However, why don't you ask him yourself, this boy speaks a little English.

Without looking at Naydenov, who was still reading his book, Harris left the room and, without saying goodbye to anyone, went to the car.

They returned by the lower road, which went near the sea.

The driver asked Voropaev:

What didn't he like, apparently, upstairs?

Did not like.

Yes, not that tasting.

The road wound between vineyards, empty and sad at this time of year. Bare vines stuck out on the slopes with gray squiggles, and somehow it was hard to believe that in summer they would dress in elegant foliage and look picturesque.

The guardhouses in which the watchmen sat in the autumn were also deserted, and in general not a single living soul came across to meet them, as if they were traveling on the earth without people.

The driver abruptly stopped the car at a roadside well and turned to Voropaev.

Tell him, Comrade Colonel, that the Germans threw two of my brother-in-law's children alive into this well.

Voropaev translated. Harris was silent.

As soon as I returned from the partisans, I climbed down myself, identified it. Wow, creepy stuff! It's scary to remember. One, the youngest, seven years old boy, the legs were only broken and the rib, apparently, died of hunger, and the older, thirteen-year-old, - the head, immediately, you can see ...

Harris's lips turned white.

There are things you can't say out loud," he said.

Then we would have to shut up too often.And they didn't talk all the way to town.

... The next conversation between Voropaev and Harris took place on the city embankment.

Harris assured that the Russians did not like the Americans, and Voropaev explained to him that it was not about love.

But no one here can understand why your country supports the most reactionary policy. For listen, Harris, you will not deny that England has lost all her advantages in this war, and that victory will do her no good?

Yes, this is probably true.

And you will not deny that many people want to take away all the profits of victory from you.

No, that's where you... no, no, that's where you're wrong.

And I'm telling you that your bankers are striving for one thing - to turn America into a fortress of militarism, and Churchill will thank heaven that he brought up such good militarists from them in time. Churchill is their god, not Roosevelt. Roosevelt is too good for them. They have long deserved a worse president, Harris.

May I write to you sometime, Voropaev? - suddenly

he asked.

What for? If you change, I will hear about you without letters, and if you remain what you are now, then what are your letters for?

Perhaps right.

They parted, although they still wanted to talk.

The conversation with Harris excited Voropaev so much that he gladly took advantage of the first opportunity to avoid further meetings with the newcomer.

And yet he had to meet with Harris once more. Foreign journalists gathered on an excursion to Sevastopol, and Voropaev was needed again.

Vasyutin, who had just arrived from the regional committee, personally called on him to ask - as a favor - not to refuse this trip, as he emphasized several times.

Voropaev was not yet familiar with Vasyutin, and he liked that he drove in easily, without bossy arrogance, and outwardly Vasyutin made a good impression.

He was a broad-shouldered fat man with a shock of curly blond hair and a charming smile on both cheeks, from which his pleased face turned pink every time.

I already told Korytov not to torture you. But even then - who, if not you? There are no people. I'll throw you one more passing task. on a local topic.

I, Comrade Vasyutin, am also here for a week without a year, not an old-timer.

Not an old-timer, so become one. Are you planning on leaving yet? Few settled?

More or less.

Rather, perhaps less than more, as I heard. Well, settle down. In appearance, Vasyutin was a typical party worker, mobile, but not fussy, with decisive categorical gestures. He was so not so much in character as in position, which automatically developed in him over many years the habits of a commander who does not know how to delay and be late.

Vasyutin did everything immediately and immediately, as soon as any task arose before him. He postponed only what had already been determined to be successful or ultimately hopeless. On the communists of the region, he was supposed to give the impression of a tenacious, stubborn and mocking person. Voropaev knew from many reviews that Vasyutin was respected for his simplicity, for his ability to harness himself to new things, and most importantly, for his ability, which is very conspicuous: to remember the names, patronymics and surnames of many thousands of people who make up the asset of the region.

While Voropaev fiddled with crutches - he never wore a prosthesis at home - and combed his hair in front of the mirror, Vasyutin, looking out the window, impatiently tapped his open notebook with a pencil.

I heard that you, Comrade Voropaev, underestimated your strength a little, or, shall we say, overestimated your illness, you retired early,” he said, looking at the street.

I left, maybe really early, but, as they say, injuries and illnesses are not begged for, but received.

This is something I understand. I'm not in charge. I'm sorry.

Ah, well, thank you for your attention then.

By the way, don't snap back at us, the rear. We also saw your brother, a front-line soldier, in different faces. Not every front-line soldier is a leader. Shoulder straps and decorations do not hypnotize us, Comrade Voropaev, and, it seems to me, you should not be hypnotized either.

Voropaev remained silent, waiting for what would happen next.

I'm not talking about you. As for your person, they speak well of you, not bad, - Vasyutin finished.

"A typical assessment of an apparatchik," thought Voropaev, "to say 'good' is fearful, to say 'bad' is wrong," and since the conversation that had begun was unpleasant to him, he sat down at the table, saying:

I'm ready. I hear you, comrade Vasyutin.

The guest, half-eye looking at him, with a flourish put a deep point in the notebook.

Yes. So. I'll start from the end. Yesterday, Comrade Stalin was returning from the conference to his place on foot. Tired, apparently wanted to have fun. Went down the lower highway. Do you know? And he drew attention to the abundance of our empty slopes. "What's the matter?" he asks. I say: “Water is tight, Iosif Vissarionovich. Tobacco won't work, it's too high for vineyards, they left it under the olive tree. And it’s useful and you don’t need water ... ”And he told me:“ So I, he says, and I don’t see any olives there. Where is she?

But rightly so - where is it?

Certainly correct. We, I confess to you, thought about it ourselves, but our hands did not reach. The turnover is eating us up, damn it. So, I want to ask you: will you go now with the guests to show them our nature, think about it - where, how much and how. Of course, we will establish a special commission later ...

Voropaev waved his hand dismissively.

Just spend money. I am a supporter of Fergana methods. Commissions by commissions, and a collective farmer with a ketmen stepped on their heels.

The experience, to be sure, is wonderful,” Vasyutin said enviously, “but I am afraid of it: times are different. Notice that they started in Ferghana - when? At thirty-nine! What a good time, remember? This initiative of theirs did not come from poverty, but from an excess of strength, from ... prowess, or something ... What a strength seethed in the blood! So right? And what can we dream about now, when all the people are at war and you and I are only able to mobilize one another? .. Yes. So. Take a look, imagine. I sometimes think that it is high time we had special dreamers like agitators and propagandists.

They sit on the salary - and dreams away!

It is truth too.

Let's go together, Comrade Vasyutin! Voropaev suggested suddenly. He liked this impatient man. - I'll be with you before the pass, where I'll spend the night with the meteorologist, and at dawn I'll join the journalists' excursion.

Will you spend the night at Zarubin's? Who talks to the winds? Baibak, - Vasyutin scratched his temple with a pencil, narrowed his eyes, wondering if he had time, and unexpectedly agreed.

NIA-KALININGRAD

IN New Year Russians will raise their glasses of champagne to the chimes. However, for many, stronger drinks will go into battle. And not everyone will be able to stand on their feet in this alcoholic battle.

How to defeat the green snake in new year's eve? Why do our Stirlitz often drink and do not get drunk? The AN columnist talks about this with retired colonel Alexei Nikolaevich IVANOV.

Tea is better than vodka

The conversation about the New Year's drink with the intelligence veteran took place not over a glass of vodka or a glass of wine, but over a cup of green tea. After a surgical operation, the AN columnist was banned from any alcohol for two months by doctors.

– My favorite drink is green tea with jasmine, – Alexey Nikolayevich supported the journalist after taking a small sip. - In the current crisis times, it is also the most economical.

- Now few people can afford champagne at 500 euros per bottle I agreed with the old scout. - Yes, and the price black label whiskey now it bites a lot. What do scouts drink in a currency crisis?

Ivanov chuckled.

- Anything that burns. In case of emergency, even Ukrainian moonshine and Georgian chacha . But December 20th Chekist Day- my friends and I drank "Putinka" and Crimean wine.

- A bottle of Russian vodka and a loaf of black bread have always been the best gift in any of our residencies: even in Singapore, even in Tel Aviv... - I hit the journalistic memories. – But I liked Massandra sherry most of all.

For lack of a favorite wine and under green greenfield It's good to have a conversation with an old friend. Although the practice of special services shows that strong booze allows you to establish informal contact with the right source of information much faster. Tea is not vodka, you won't drink much. After him, he is drawn not to intoxicating exploits, but to quiet memories.

Putin's favorite wine

The tasting in the Crimea stuck in my memory. We go down the echoing metal stairs to cellars of Massandra . First they show huge wine barrels. Then glass dusty vessels. In total, in the collection of the plant, by the way, listed in the Guinness Book of Records, over 1 million bottles . According to foreign experts, all this grape wealth costs about 4 billion dollars. Now it belongs to Russia again!

The most expensive wine is stored in an elite cellar under the supervision of video cameras. This sherry 1775. At the auction, for one copy of this oldest exhibit from the Massandra collection, over 50 thousand dollars. This wine is a rarity. The factory stores only 6 bottles. Even presidents are not allowed to taste it.

According to the head of the sales and marketing department of the plant V. Zenkina, Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin out of thirty tasted wines most liked red table "Alushta" . It's certainly not the cheapest, but it's not the most expensive either. IN company store factory sell it for 1300 rub. for a bottle. Recently a batch of this wine on order Federal Service Russian guards were sent to Moscow. They say, on the New Year's table to Vladimir Vladimirovich.

My acquaintances, veterans of the Russian special services, recommended tasting the main line of Massandra wines: starting from "The Seventh Heaven of Prince Golitsyn" and before "Old Nectar" .

Of all the drinks I've tried, this is my favorite. sherry my year of birth. And although he was far from the cherished Massandra figure 1775 and it didn't cost 50 thousand bucks, still turned out to be not on my salary. Like other ordinary consumers, I had to choose between drinking cheaper wines or switching to homeopathic doses.

By the way, in the Crimean resorts have recently been successfully used enotherapy- Wine therapy. cold in Yalta they are treated with Massandra Cahors. From neuroses and excess radiation helps the body get rid of cabernet.Keep healthy a heart helps dry red wine, which Putin loves so much. And the best cure for constipation, according to the resort Aesculapius - Crimean port wine. The elders especially respect him.

And I took to Moscow a box of Massandra madeiras for 500 rubles for a bottle. Connoisseurs for the fortress call this wine "lady's cognac ” or “butterlayer”. No wonder he loved him so much Grigory Rasputin !

How to get drunk so as not to fail

Alexey Nikolaevich distracted me from my memories. He shared his experience of fighting the green serpent.

According to Colonel Ivanov , this is not taught in intelligence schools and academies. But it is right to drink alcohol for an intelligence officer - almost the main professional quality. Therefore, in foreign residencies, intelligence bison generously share their alcohol experience with young employees. Here are just a few practical tips:

1. Eat a hearty meal a few hours before the meal oily food. A piece of lard, a sandwich with butter, abundantly poured with honey on top, will not interfere.
2. A glass of vodka or other strong drink half an hour before the main drink will put your body on full alert to resist alcohol. You can have an aperitif 10 sorbent tablets (previously it was activated carbon, now they use polyphepan or enterosorbent). Most effective among them is considered a silicon-based enterosorbent - enterosgel, 3-4 tablespoons of which help the body to quickly cope with the elimination of alcohol .
3. Earlier in the West, they wrote a lot that KGB officers from intoxication took drug RU-21. They themselves remained sober and could get their interlocutors drunk to such an extent that they blurted out any secrets. The miracle drug, they say, stops the production of an enzyme in the body that converts alcohol into acetaldehyde, a toxic chemical. Actually it's just an advertisement.

According to Colonel Ivanov, now in London our scouts get drunk like that. After a hard drink, the operative prefers to pour into himself a traditional glass of a mixture called "oyster". This is a cocktail of sunflower oil, two tablespoons of tomato juice, a teaspoon of cognac and egg yolk, which are shaken before use, pre-salted and peppered. You can eat toast. If it doesn’t help, then the famous oatmeal, which is filled with something sour-milk. Alcoholic drinks for a hangover are called "dog's fur" (hair of the dog).

And here in Finland our scouts do not philosophize slyly and hope only for sauna. For some reason, this method of getting drunk in Finland is called Russian. A sauna from a hangover is arranged not hot - 80 degrees quite enough. It is believed that it is at this temperature that toxins leave the body through the skin most actively: 2–3 visits of 5–7 minutes each. able to completely remove the remnants of alcohol.

By the way, in Moscow instead of the Finnish sauna, the highest ranks of the special services use the latest infrared capsules . There, the temperature is only 45–60 degrees, which significantly reduces the load on the heart, and the warming effect is much stronger. Therefore, the body from the decomposition products of alcohol is cleared no worse than from a dropper. But the process is faster and much more pleasant.

in Taiwanour intelligence officers, in order to avoid a hangover, before a feast drink a few raw quail eggs . After that, they drink vodka or whiskey exclusively with green tea. The manner in which whiskey is mixed with antioxidant-rich green tea is unusual, but the result is that the drink does not cause such a severe hangover.

Russian intelligence officers in Mexico the best cure for a hangover is considered a thick spicy soup of veal legs, offal, green chili peppers, cornmeal and condiments. It is these components that contain a lot of vitamins and glycine. This soup is like caucasian hash.

Gourmets from the residency of Russian intelligence in Paris relieve hangovers with garlic or onion soup . They chop more garlic into a large plate, pour boiling water over it and put a piece of French bread, after adding a raw egg there.

–In Germany It’s a long tradition to drink marinated fish richly flavored with onions with yogurt on a hangover morning,” recalls Aleksey Nikolaevich. – I don’t know if I used this recipe Vladimir Putin while working in Dresden. In my opinion, this is Teutonic barbarism. I preferred a small bottle of Bavarian beer on a hangover morning.

Colonel Ivanov also said that in the residency of our intelligence inNorway after New Year's drunkenness come back to life with the help of buckets of coldwater which they pour over their heads. At the same time, it is important that the water must flow down the back! Extreme? But effective! Especially if you drink it with a glass of thick warmed cream.

But the most extraordinary ways to deal with a hangover are used by our scouts in the countries South America and Africa. There they rub lemon in armpit and eat bananas without measure . They say it helps. But this is hard to believe.

At worst, you can use the playful advice from American jazzman Eddie Condona: painful morning squeeze juice from two empty bottles whiskey... However, in our currency crisis, the remnants of any alcohol will save you from a hangover. The main thing: drink, but understand the measure!

Yuri Kobaladze, retired major general, veteran of foreign intelligence:

“The famous KGB pills don’t exist. At least I have not used them in my practice. It is very important for a scout to be able to drink a lot and keep his head fresh. The most effective remedy for drunkenness regular sandwich with butter . And the next day it is best to use Alkoseltzer or be treated folk remedies: kefir, brine . Soviet intelligence officers tried these methods on themselves more than once and, as a rule, were on top.