On Defender of the Fatherland Day, we recalled one story told by a talented author and performer, artist of the music publishing house “Zvuk-M” - Damir Yakubov ...
He shared with us memories of his service in the army, and we, in turn, want to tell this story to you. She set out by Damir himself and, with the exception of replacing a pair of obscene words, the editors did not intervene in his statement, leaving the text as copyright.
So, we bring to your attention an excerpt from Yakubov's autobiography, which tells how cool music can suddenly change your life ...
“... The first couple of months in the army were not easy. I had to run in the mornings, stand up for outfits, shoot at night from all types of weapons, dig in, put on OZK and run in gas masks. I served in the infantry regiment in the PGT Desna near the city of Chernigov. He wrote letters to his grandfather and complained about the soldiers' life. He composed sad songs and dreamed to find and deal with his sergeants in the "citizen".
But one evening the life of Private Yakubov changed drastically.
The fact is that one of the sergeants tried to play the seven-stringed guitar solo from the song Highway Star from the repertoire of Deep Purple, but all his attempts to remove the great Blackmore were in vain. I cautiously offered to show an exercise, repeating that every day (48 hours per day for years through 10) my sergeant could play the famous solo. Sergeant Zhvinklis, that was the name of my sergeant, looked at me and said: “So that you, baba, was silent for 2 of the month. Let's go to the storeroom ... ", got out of bed and took me to the storeroom. All who served in the Soviet army know what it is to get into the cabinet after the end.
All my stern commanders sat in the kapter and drank tea with lump sugar, seizing tea with a loaf of thickly buttered butter. On the table lay chocolates, sausages, Herzegovina Flor cigarettes and much more “from the citizen,” forgotten for several months of intense service. At the head of the table was the foreman of the company, Valentin Nalyvaichenko, who, seeing me, stretched out his face in indignation and yelled at Zhvinklis: “What the hell did you bring him here?” (The fact is that, despite the fact that I was only 2 months in service at Oster, the so-called famous training was called, I did not differ in complaisant character, having had time to fight in the outfit in the kitchen; several times I sent out loudly at 3 letters of sergeants, sabotaged orders, receiving “out of turn orders” and other privileges for this, stimulating the re-education of a “Caucasian character”).
“Valya, don’t shout!”, Zhalklins reassured Nalivaychenko, “this purple block can play!”
Nalyvaichenko opened his mouth, put a cup of tea on the table, got up, came close to me and shouted: “Attention! Do you play “Ladder to Heaven”?
- I'm playing! - I answered, - I play everything ...
- And there ?, - Nalyvaichenko did not let up
“And there!” I repelled his pronunciation.
“Did Love Hunter hear that?”
“LoveHunter,” I corrected him.
“Not a borzoi, blockhead.” Lyokha, ”he turned to address Sergeant Kravchenko,“ give the baba a guitar, let him play something. ” Well, that’s it, babai, you’re finished, if you are trying to hang our noodles on our ears, Nalyvaichenko said looking at me point blank and laughed ...
I played and sang in English for two hours everything that the sergeants who missed the civilian asked me. My fingers refused to press the strings of the Soviet guitar, but I held on until the last time until Nalivaychenko came to me and clapping my shoulder said: “Well, that’s it, Yakubov, your torment ended! You will intercede on duty on the company. Don’t send him to the kitchen outfit, don’t put him in orderly, don’t force to dig, don’t wear round and don’t roll square, - ordered Valentin to the sergeants, “go, Yakubov, to sleep.”
I wished everyone good night, opened the door and already took a step into the open doorway, as Nalyvaychenko shouted again:
- What is your name, Yakubov?
“Damir,” I answered, and went to the company’s location.
“You will be a chorus, Damir,” the words caught up with me in the corridor.
The company slept and snuffled. In the barracks there was a persistent smell of sisters. I smiled, rubbed my hands from the long guitar playing, walked to my bed, undressed and went to bed.
This is how my new soldier life began ... ”