The first half of the year was slowly coming to an end, and the service went on as usual. But significant changes took place in the life of the company. So one day, after a rain on Thursday, the old thing again quarreled with the bars. This is to put it mildly. The story of the quarrel was complicated and began with strange events. A moderately confident block, Sasha Ruchnikov, nicknamed Private Sruch, decided to get close to the old man. The rapprochement took place according to a primitive scheme: in the evenings Sasha approached the old stuff, having with him all sorts of goodies in the form of biscuit rolls, smoked chicken and other delicacies. Thanks to the offerings, Ruchnikov was not driven away: the junk treated Sasha’s attempts at rapprochement coldly, sometimes even openly ridiculed him, but the goodies did their job. Why did Ruchnikov need this rapprochement? Well, probably in this way he hoped to gain complete confidence, which he so lacked (let me remind you that Sasha had the status of a partially relaxed block). In general, Sruch was quite stupid: it’s easy to guess that instead of the role of a confident block, he had to try on the strange role of the old man’s six. The junk began to treat him quite tolerantly, and his fellow bars began to almost despise Sasha.
After some time, Ruchnikov realized that everything had gone wrong: instead of gaining confidence, he ended up with a goat’s face. This situation made him very angry, he began to quarrel with the bars, explaining to them something incomprehensible. Bruski snapped back, calling him a “suck-up.” The situation resolved itself, unexpectedly for everyone. By that time, poor Sasha had become terribly irritated, he continued to sit with the old things with gloomy insistence, but everything frankly infuriated him: the old things, and the bars, and all this fuss leading to nothing. And at this time Zalivkin had to quarrel with another average-confident bar, Andrey Domnin. The quarrel was based on the fact that the above-mentioned block, towards the end of the six months, had gained some confidence among its fellows and began to behave accordingly. Domnin's junk did not relax him, so he immediately addressed all the bars with a claim. The claimant was Dima Zalivkin and everything happened during another gathering with the participation of Sruch.
The conflict began with chatter, during which the old men expressed half-joking complaints about the relaxed Brusks, including Domnin. In principle, no one wanted to aggravate the situation, given the proximity of the inevitable demobilization. No one except Zalivkin, who was distinguished by his sharp mind. Dima quietly inflamed himself and many others, became nervous, started shouting and shouted to the point that it was decided to hold a general collection of junk and timber, with a discussion of pressing problems. Ruchnikov muttered something, trying to somehow justify Domnin, but nothing came of it. In addition, Sasha was not authorized to represent the bars; he lacked confidence.
So imperceptibly, a half-joking skirmish grew into a serious showdown, requiring a meeting of all the bars and old people. This action took place right in the company's quarters. The young and the poor were just sitting on the take-off and getting stitched up. Pestun turned to Borshchenev, who was considered the main one of the bars:
“Vasya, on what basis did they relax Domnin?” Vasya politely answered:
-Well... They don’t give birth to Andryukha, but that’s it for now. We treat you with respect, but in the future we will cut him some slack because he's a normal dude...
- Yes? This is your right in the future. But he’s already out there, all relaxed,” said Zalivkin, “I think you’ve all just gone crazy!” – Dima became incensed. Word for word, the old man became pretty angry with the Brusks, although they were extremely polite. I repeat, most of the old people did not want this conflict: Atronyuk, Erasov, Kolesnikov and Tsukatin left the “meeting” altogether, sitting down on bunks nearby and occasionally commenting on what was happening with a laugh. Zalivkin became increasingly incensed, and for some reason Pestun and Baranov decided to support him. The secret of Dima’s anger was simple: he himself, inexplicably, became confident, due to his innate aggression and command-dog skills, so he envied Domnin.
In short, the conflict ripened like a boil and burst out unexpectedly for everyone. The brainless Zalivkin suddenly turned his gaze to Ruchnikov:
- Sasha, you’re a normal guy, what do you say - Isn’t Domnin here?
- Come on, Dima, Andryukha is normal, what can I say... Well, maybe we’ve relaxed, well, now we understand everything and we’ll live a simpler life...
- Yes? – Dima said dissatisfied, “but it seems to me that everything is not quite right,” Zalivkin paused and said something that no one expected from him:
“Come on, Sasha, drag the barbell here and kick Domnin’s legs properly,” for some reason Zalivkin had to kick Domnin’s legs. It is unclear how exactly this idea arose in Dima’s head, given that hitting someone in the legs with a barbell was probably too cool. Even Pestun, who had been acting like Gogol until then, suddenly became confused and wanted to say something, but did not have time. Instead, Zalivkin spoke again:
- Come on, Sasha! Run for the neck! And you,” he rudely pointed at Domnin, “wait here, now we’ll break your legs...
Probably, Pestun and Baranov wouldn’t have allowed Dima to break someone’s legs, and he probably wouldn’t have done it himself. In any case, Ruchnikov did not go anywhere, neither for the bar nor for the dumbbells. Instead, he let out a scream, looking at Zalivkin with wild eyes:
- What the fuck, old stuff, they decided to introduce into the madness, right?! Do you need crazy?! - Confident Dima had already realized his mistake and was ready, with a proudly patronizing expression on his face, to forgive everyone before it was too late. But by this moment, the time for “before it’s too late” had already run out, and instead of the usual elaborate facial expressions, the main place on Zalivkin’s face was taken by Srucha’s fist that had flown from God knows where.
Sasha Ruchnikov’s blow was very strong, by modest soldier standards, so Dima flew away like a sparrow somewhere deep into the cockpit, disappeared from sight and did not show up for a long time after that.
Meanwhile, Andrei Baranov intervened in the brewing conflict. Let me remind you that this stupid senior sergeant was a brute, two meters tall, with broad shoulders and a red round muzzle. Visually, he seemed much larger than Sasha. Therefore, having received the blow due to him in the face, Andrei did not fly away anywhere like Zalivkin, but simply fell onto the bed of bunks and carefully slid to the floor.
The old people who were sitting on the sidelines and not interfering in the conflict became more active, realizing that the matter had taken a serious turn, because the policy of non-intervention could cause an undermining of authority. Having made a choice in favor of maintaining confidence, Sergei Atronyuk was the first to intervene in the fight. Actually, he had no noticeable fighting zeal; rather, he tried to peacefully resolve the conflict. Sergei approached Ruchnikov with a serious expression on his face and wanted to say something, probably very important and necessary. But Sasha was not in the mood for dialogue, therefore, barely noticing the movement from Atronyuk, he immediately made a boxing lunge in his direction. Sergei, oddly enough, dodged and everything would have ended well if Sruch had not struck a second blow. I can’t say where exactly Ruchinsky was aiming, but he hit Atronyuk in the back of the head, albeit slightly from the side, in passing. I don’t know what kind of talent Ruchinsky had, but each of his blows that reached the target left behind impressive consequences. So the unfortunate Sergei, having received a blow to the back of the head, spun on the spot and fell flat on the floor. His legs began to shake with small tremors, and foam poured out of his mouth. From the outside it seemed that Atronyuk was about to give his soul to God.
I liked this battle so much that I sat (let me remind you that during the events described, I was hemmed in along with all the elephants, bubbles and all sorts of wretched things) silently, with my mouth wide open. There were plenty of fans besides me: many liked the beating of disgusted old men. True, the bubbles soon came to their senses, forbade the elephants to look at the fighting, and then turned away themselves.
For some reason, no one else from the “neutral” company got into the fight. But Pestun risked approaching Ruchinsky. He was luckier than others: Sasha hit him not in the face, but only in the chest. After that, the rest of the bars ran up and somehow calmed Ruchinsky down. The incident came to an end.
Oddly enough, the stupid Sasha Ruchinsky achieved his goal: he managed to gain the long-awaited authority. His brothers forgave Sasha all his sins and fell in love with him. The junk also forgave Sruch, but he no longer participated in the gatherings. The next, now customary, collection of junk and timber took place, at which something was decided, some kind of neutrality was achieved.
After the massacre, the old man calmed down, licking his wounds. Baranov constantly entered the “Hut”, where he rested for days on end. He looked like the Terminator who was at the end of the second part of the famous film of the same name: one half of his face was normal, human, and the other looked like God knows what. True, if the Terminator had God knows what, sticking out from under his face, was a metal skeleton, then Andrey’s was just swollen, blue-turned meat. The eye disappeared into the depths of terrible bluish-red folds, the nose swollen, the upper lip hung like an ugly visor over the lower one. It became good to take guard duty with Baranov. He lay and thought all the time, even forgot about all his privileges as a confident old man. Such is the power of magic lules.
Atronyuk escaped with short-term memory loss and the usual problems associated with a concussion. Immediately after the massacre, Sergei, who woke up for a long time, could not understand where he was, who he was and why he was there, and then for several days he could not remember the fight with Sruch itself, if this beating can be called a fight.
Zalivkin and Pestun managed to get by with bruises and humiliated dignity. They, like Baranov, became silent, thoughtful, as if saying with all their appearance: “We laid down our lives for you, did not spare ourselves, lived according to concepts, and you are like with us...” It is worth saying here that among the younger ones appeals, opinions on the fight were divided: some sympathized with the junk, some with the bars. Personally, I didn't sympathize with anyone. I liked that the old people’s faces were broken, it warmed my soul, but I didn’t like the bars either. Now, if Ruchinsky had tapped the faces of the bars in the same way, that would have been truly wonderful. And if Sruch had killed all of the above-mentioned, and then committed suicide... Of course, such a wish was excessively cruel, not speaking in my favor, but this arrangement suited me best... to be continued
I was only cruel in my thoughts. The old man, having licked his wounds, remembered that he only had a few days left to serve and decided to finally vent his soul. It was decided to conduct a ritual popular among the military personnel of the Presidential Regiment, called “Riding on the Ass.” The main participants in the skating were to be wretched old people, but the essence of what was happening came down to the following: large forty-liter buckets, called, as the reader remembers, “rockets,” were filled with foam, which filled the entire takeoff. After this, the wretched old man was taken by the legs and arms and thrown onto the foam with a running start, so that he would slide in some direction.
Having chosen the right day, the confident old men gave several wretches a ride on the soapy foam. It was unpleasant to watch the humiliating procedure, but not to turn away? It was especially disappointing to see how Sasha Kurchevsky was given a ride. He endured the execution stoically and as soon as he was left alone, he went into the cockpit, took off his wet clothes, changed his clothes, and then began rummaging around in the bedside table with a calm expression. I chose the moment, approached Sasha and expressed my sympathy as best I could:
- How are you, Sash? Are you tired of these goats? Do not worry. All normal people understand that you are human, and they are screwed. They imagine that they are something.
- Thank you... Yes, I’m not worried. My only concern is to go home quickly. I have a life there, friends, family. I don't care what these bastards think. It’s strange, of course: what did I do to them? The attendants did not borrow, did not knock, did not substitute. He served calmly and did not pretend to anything. The fact that I’m from another company?.. It’s strange - they took me and gave me a ride.
-Well, no one has brains. In order to understand something, you need brains. And they just don’t exist.
I saw that Sasha Kurchevsky really didn’t worry too much. But some of the old people were very discouraged. Along with the wretched old men, the wretched block of Denis Bernikov rode through the soapy foam. He didn’t shy away from it either, he didn’t even change his facial expression. Denis probably developed an immunity to various humiliations; he was constantly hit on the neck, and this was not the first time he rode on his ass. It was also repeatedly “flooded”; there was also a procedure for lowering the poor: at night a bucket of water was poured into a soldier’s boots. They also poured water on clothes lying on a stool; sometimes they could pour a bucket of water right onto their heads. In particularly severe cases, water was replaced with urine, for which all elephants in the company had to urinate in a bucket. True, it rarely came to such brutality.
After skiing, the poor ones flooded almost every day. The old stuff began to drink heavily, they got weed somewhere, smoked it, and then ran around the place screaming wildly. Andrei Baranov loved to take a drag from a joint and shout at the top of his voice:
- Fool!!!
It would seem that it was time for the confident to calm down, but that was not the case. Moreover, the so-called “hundred-day period” was in full swing: when there were exactly one hundred days left to serve, some rules came into force, generated, as usual, by the moronic traditions of the Presidential Regiment. For example, if every day old people demanded from young people cigarettes “Golden Java”, sometimes “Winston” or “Chesterfield”, then with the beginning of the hundred days, every confident old man was entitled to one expensive cigarette: “Sobrani”, “Coffee Cream”, or whatever something like that. Such a cigarette had to be signed in a special way, with a pen with gold ink. I don’t remember what exactly should have been written on the cigarette, but it definitely said the number of days remaining. One or two old men fell in love with expensive cigarettes so much that they demanded them for themselves every time, instead of “Golden Java”. And it was very expensive.
In addition to expensive cigarettes, the confident ones demanded for themselves a certain number of cans of condensed milk; they needed to be hemmed with a special kind of hemming, which was a piece of hemming fabric the size of a decent towel. This fabric was folded many times, and a wire called a vein was inserted into the upper edge as usual. I have already described this ridiculous process, so I will only say that on the cobwebs usually embroidered in the corners of the hem, it was now necessary to plant, no more, no less, but spiders. The spiders were embroidered with red thread; no special realism was required when depicting them, but the weaving process itself became very complicated with the appearance of these arthropods. The number of spiders had to be equal to the number of remaining days of service. You used to sit, embroider 80, 90 or 100 spiders and marvel at yourself and the crazy people around you kindergarten.
The number of different events and traditional madnesses has noticeably increased during the hundred-day event. In a regular army, the old ones, as far as I know, take away the butter from the young ones in the canteen. In the Presidential Regiment, no one needed butter, and for a hundred days it was even worse: all the old men collected the butter circles assigned to them, strung them on a table knife, like on a skewer, and forced one of the confident bubblers to eat it all. So I want to ask the reader: have you ever vomited? butter? Hardly. But the confident bubbles from our regiment had the opportunity to vomit butter just fine. Here, as gamekeeper Hagrid from the famous film “Harry Potter” would say: “... it’s good that it doesn’t get stuck...”
A very remarkable event was the “Bubble Day”, which was part of the hundred days. It was an ordinary day, it fell either at the beginning of the hundred days, or at some other time. The idea was this: old stuff and bubbles swapped places for one day. The old people prepared for this day with all their might: they prepared blocks of “Golden Java” in advance, a lot of chewing gum, condensed milk and all that. During Bubble Day there was something to see: old things were being wrung out, giving birth, and putting things in order... True, the bubbles were afraid to truly humiliate anyone: Bubble Day is just one day... I hasten to note that we have a full-fledged Bubble Day in The company didn’t succeed: the old stuff suffered until lunchtime, amazed and neighed a little, then the old people went crazy and that’s all. The Bubbles were very offended by such a shortened Bubble Day, they said that it was pathetic, unworthy, etc. There was supposed to be another “Elephant Day”, but that was also cancelled. After all these cancellations, Bubbles whispered and said that the old stuff was wretched.
There was a little less than a month of service left for the old men when junior sergeants from Kupavna arrived in the company. The fact was that those few, sent six months ago to the Regimental School to study as sergeants, returned to their home battalion when young soldiers arrived in Kupavna.
It so happened that the younger ones were neither more nor less, but bubbles. And they had to remain bubbles for about three weeks. Of course, the old man immediately remembered this and decided to take it out on the sergeants in full. The younger ones had to put themselves out there, trying to somehow compensate in three weeks for all the lack of attention to the older people that had arisen over six months. Even the younger ones had to especially fiercely monitor order in the company, much more fiercely than the rest of the bubbles. The last point of duty greatly affected us elephants. Over the course of six months, we got used to the bubbles; we restored order quickly and, as they say, effectively. Of course, they beat us, rocked us and all that, but the new sergeants fell on our heads like a bolt from the blue. We ran five times faster than usual.
In my first platoon, there was a junior who came to the company with an injury. I don’t remember what exactly happened to him, but the battalion doctor insisted on bed rest. The guy's name was Sergei Krotkov. So, this Sergei, lying straight on the bunk, managed to steer order in his platoon. It was impossible to hide from him, he was spinning like a top on his bed, seeing everything, everywhere. True, he could hit him with a stool like all the other self-respecting bubbles only with a certain reservation: you had to approach him, hand him a stool, then substitute his head and grab him properly on the skull.
The younger ones received the full program from the old stuff. As soon as the old man saw a speck under some bunk, the younger ones were immediately forced to crawl under the beds in circles, cleaning the floor with their own clothes. What happened to us elephants after such crawling, I think it’s clear. Our skulls were cracking so hard that our brains were ready to leak out of our ears. For everything you can think of, the juniors were always given marks. Smoked chicken, rolls and soda with other glutamate rubbish have replaced the old familiar human food.
The apotheosis of Staryev’s hatred of the younger ones was the beating by Sasha Kolesnikov, a mega-confident old man, of the unfortunate wretched younger man, Sergei Solkin. I forgot how the latter angered Sasha, I only remember that Sergei was on duty in the company that day. Maybe Kolesnikov was dissatisfied with the way the sergeant kept order in the company?.. Sasha pressed Solkin into a corner and beat him thoroughly, using his fists with all his might. Well, he beat and beat, it would seem there was nothing special about it. Take any elephant, and someone must have just beaten it. And beatings were no stranger to bubbles. But in the case of Sergei, everything did not go according to plan: after the execution, for some reason, he turned pale, then even turned blue, and then began to lose consciousness altogether. They dragged the sufferer to the medical unit, from where he went by ambulance to the hospital. There he was diagnosed with a ruptured spleen. The spleen was cut out, Seryozha was discharged.
After the incident with Solkin, confident Sasha Kolesnikov at first walked like a gogol, laughing all the time. After a couple of days he became gloomy, and a few days later he left for the Disciplinary Battalion. There is such a terrible place, a disbat, which has a very bad reputation. Kolesnikov was supposed to serve there as a punishment for a couple of years. Let me remind you that at that time Sasha and all the other junk had two weeks left to serve. In principle, from the point of view of eternity, two weeks and two years are all the same. But the fact of leaving for disbat, actually a few days before demobilization, plunged me into a state of shock. Honestly, even the torn spleen of the unfortunate Solkin faded in my eyes against the background of such punishment, although this, of course, was from cowardice.
After what happened with Solkin and Kolesnikov, the younger ones, as well as everyone else, were no longer touched by the old stuff. Well, except that they gave a ride on the bottom of the same Sergei Krotkov, who was prescribed bed rest, on his butt. Seryozha did something wrong in front of the old people, he did something to annoy them. Let me remind you that the purpose of riding on the take-off was humiliation, and the one who rode was considered lowered. In the case of Krotkov, everything was complicated: his old age seemed to have let him down, but his fellow conscripts, i.e. bars, they decided not to consider him an omission after skating. He was weighed and found quite heavy. For some reason, I remember this sight: Seryoga was given a ride on soap foam, thrown by his arms and legs, he rode around, then got up from the floor, covered in soap foam, and muttering something contentedly under his breath, he wandered off to the washbasin with a smile. Honestly, such skating, and even with a result that was not counted, was far from the brightest incident of everyday life in the army. But what stuck in my memory was the soapy Krotkov, getting up from the floor and smiling contentedly. He personified something at that moment, but what exactly was unclear. The quintessence of who knows what...to be continued luden1 in Crushed by the Kremlin wall
“...Ghosts of distant lands
Overgrown with cemetery grass.
You, traveler, do not listen to the dead,
Don’t lean your head on the slabs...”
S. Yesenin. Cold gold of the moon.
I woke up at five in the morning. “Sasha, get up,” said my mother. I opened my eyes and looked at the wall and ceiling, noting to myself that it wouldn’t be long before I saw them next time.
Mom, light the table lamp,” I asked.
In the aquarium, a crucian carp was calmly swimming on the wall, and there was a tape recorder on the table. Nothing spoke about my upcoming departure today for two years into the army.
The lights were on in the hall, it was somehow hectic. I acted like a cheerful person, trying to make everyone laugh, talking all sorts of nonsense about how I would still serve in Moscow, not far away, in response to which my relatives nodded their heads in agreement. Mom put groceries and all the “necessary” little things in my bag. I turned on the tape recorder and listened to the song "Dolphin", for good luck, then turned off the tape recorder and we left the house, a sad procession heading to the tram stop.
On the tram I continued my attempts to cheer everyone up. Dad smiled tensely, listening to my jokes, Mom secretly wiped away her tears. The tram was moving slowly, but it finally took us to the military registration and enlistment office.
At the military registration and enlistment office, Dad put mints in my pocket, I talked a little with my relatives and an unfamiliar, plump, balding man with an indifferent gesture called me to the exit, after which he had, obviously through force, to wait until everyone hugged me goodbye.
I went out onto the porch. There was a UAZ parked near the gate. It was cold and dank outside. I sat in the front seat next to a balding man and we quickly drove through the sleepy town to the region. military registration and enlistment office. In the region the military registration and enlistment office told me where to go and I went into a strange room that looked like public toilet, where two soldiers examined my clothes and took away what was “not allowed.” “No” was chocolate and boiled sausage. I, like other conscripts, had no time for such trifles.
After the inspection, I was directed to the gloomy semi-underground dungeons, where there were benches with stupid inscriptions scrawled on them and hanging Russian flag on the shabby wall, raising with all their might the patriotic spirit of those unfortunates who were sitting on the above-mentioned benches. Everyone who was here had to serve in the same regiment with me, as I understood. Presidential Regiment. A month ago I had my medical. commission and I was enrolled in the ranks of the Presidential Regiment. And now I sat in a stuffy room, not knowing what to think about. There were a lot of people, everyone stayed mostly in groups, like circles, from which screams and laughter could be heard. Some were sitting by themselves. Especially stood out on general background, a guy with a broken face, leaning towards the floor, threatening to fall off his bench... (to be continued)
October 9th, 2018 , 03:34 pm
"...Tomorrow there will be a new masquerade,
Knights, tournaments, fireworks and dancing,
The jester will wear a colorful outfit,
He will run, jump and laugh.
Tickle the king's foot
Make the princess laugh with an ugly dance,
Gaer imitates a nightingale,
But the crow hides under a mask..."
"Jester." Group "Lyapis Trubetskoy".
Part three. Life is make-believe.
Chapter first. His Majesty's moneylender.
Start
It was a beautiful spring day, one of those when everything around is getting ready to bloom. Warmth returns imperceptibly, birds fly in, the summer breeze, breaking through the cold everyday life that has become familiar, excites the imagination. It’s a good day to spend in nature, take a walk, contemplate, and finally eat barbecue. I did not contemplate anything, did not eat anything, and spring had practically no effect on me. Sitting in a stuffy Pazik bus, with Nosikov on my lap, I watched as an unfamiliar soldier opened the gate, letting future cadets into the territory of the Kupavna military camp.
For some reason, life often leaves me with the last place everywhere. So on that day, the Zavidovites arrived in Kupavna after everyone else. There was a bustle in the camp, the soldiers were unpacking, putting things away, and arranging furniture. Again I saw the hated parade ground, walking along which, six months ago, I learned what it was drill. The barracks building has not changed a bit over the past time. The Kupavnovtsy, our future junk and bars, behaved coldly, reservedly, strictly. In the first days, they only hinted at hazing, probably because no one knew anyone. But they hinted well, with soul. By that time, everyone already knew that it was customary to give birth in Kupavna not only to confident old people, but also to confident bars. On the one hand, this was surprising, on the other, everything was natural: there was quite a bit of junk, there were almost no elephants at all, and they were all in other companies, mostly auxiliary, which meant that only we, the cadets, remained, strange elephant-shaped bubbles. By the way, the soldiers of the first half of the year in the bath were called not elephants, but ears, according to the Kremlin tradition.
I, along with the rest of the Zavidovites, were assigned to the fourth platoon of the first training company. By a strange coincidence, I was to live on the very floor and in the very cockpit where I spent the first twenty days of service, so during the formations, I stood on the take-off line opposite an old familiar portrait of Kutuzov, just like six months ago. There was something mystical about it.
Our platoon, like all the others, consisted of four sections, each of which had eight soldiers belonging to one of the companies of the Presidential Regiment. Sections were headed by bar sergeants, platoons were headed by old men, deputy platoon commanders, “castles.” It was these commanders that we were destined to give birth to. In our fourth platoon, the platoon commander, Sasha Golubev, and the fourth squad commander, Sasha Kotov, were considered confident. Two Sashas. Basically we had to give birth on them. In addition, the company foreman, Alexei Zibrov, the medical instructor Sergei Zaichikov, and the company chemical instructor, who was well known to me from the first days of service, Sergei Bugorkov, could demand anything from any of the cadets. I already described Bugorkov, who had the nickname Bug, who looked like a monkey with an angry face and sinewy arms, in the first part of my story. And this despite my positive attitude towards real monkeys and animals. The meeting with Buga evoked the worst emotions. I got to know him too well six months ago.
To my great regret, I did not meet either Nikishin or Chubakov, whom I knew from the first twenty days of service, in Kupavna. But I met Denis Boldin, and right in his new platoon. In the first part of the story, I wrote about how six months ago, Denis was one of the first to arrive at the training company and was considered as confident as possible for a skull (let me remind you that soldiers who did not take the oath were called “skulls”). In those days, Boldin was excellent at stuffing pillows, sweeping floors and doing a lot of other things, everyone treated him with respect, and he himself was inordinately proud. It was very difficult to communicate with Boldin the Skull, he was so arrogant. Now I saw in front of me a frightened, downtrodden boy in a dirty lump, feverishly stuffing a piping on a bunk and looking around hauntedly. When I met him, I had mixed emotions, if not joy, then something positive: a familiar face, after all. Turning to Denis himself, I was met with complete indifference on his part. Yes, he recognized me, yes, he remembers how he taught me how to stuff pillows... And nothing more, no stories about the service, not the slightest desire to communicate.
During my service, I came to terms with the cowardice of people. As a rule, everyone very quickly got used to humiliation, to the slave role. And I myself, so to speak, learned to “tolerate” in the army. But despite all this, Boldin surprised me. I didn’t recognize him as himself: six months ago, a self-confident, well-groomed, Kremlin warrior, respected by everyone, including sergeants, left Kupavna, and now a slug without self-esteem stood in front of me.
Having tried to talk about something with Boldin, I very soon became disillusioned with this useless undertaking. Moreover, some problem has already made itself felt: the squad commander Sasha Kotov, together with the platoon commander, Sasha Golubev, demanded mayonnaise for lunch, threatening the platoon with death punishment in case of its absence. It was a minor nuisance, mayonnaise was born. I had to buy it from one of my brothers, paying three times the real cost. Fortunately, I saved a pretty penny in reserve back in Zavidovo. In addition to money, I had small quantities of chewing gum, cigarettes and other “goodies” with me. There was no conflict over mayonnaise.
But the conflict arose on the basis of relationships with one’s own call. The history of this conflict is very interesting. It all started during the first Kupavnovo lunch. Before eating, we all spent several hours cleaning up the company. But then the orderly shouted:
- First training company, to proceed to lunch, form up! - everyone lined up and went first to the parade ground, then to the dining room. During this first trip to the dining room, I learned that it would not be possible to simply go down the Kupavnovsky stairs, as in the days of the “cherepan”, you had to run, jumping over the steps, falling, breaking protruding parts of the body and objects. On the very first day, while running up the magic staircase, I crushed myself on the railing. wrist watch. It was an irreplaceable, beautiful "Electronics-5", I felt very sorry for it.
We ran to the dining room and sat down. I gave the old men the promised mayonnaise. For lunch they served pasta with meat, which was very tasty, as well as quite tolerable soup and compote. To distribute portions, a large, “multi-story” cart was used, which the orderly slowly rolled along the rows between the tables. From the cart, everyone took portions for themselves, which were plenty enough for everyone, so that if you wanted, you could take more than one, although theoretically the orderly could resist such greediness and you had to negotiate with him by giving him a cigarette or something valuable. As a rule, no one tried to take an extra portion, since everyone was full.
It would seem, what kind of conflict situation could arise over portions? It seems like nothing. But a situation arose. During the distribution, a fellow we knew, Kolya Chernikov, who had previously served in the fourteenth company next to us, ran up to me and Max Filonov. Running up, Kolya quickly and plaintively babbled:
- Guys, come on, take more portions, pasta, no need for soup. Come on, dial quickly!
“Why, Kohl, do old people need portions?” I asked in surprise, because old people rarely ate the dishes served in the dining room.
- No, guys, this is not for old people, this is for those guys over there, see? They are from the Kremlin, even from the first company! They are used to eating well there! - Chernikov pointed towards the bubbles sitting nearby, the same as all of us, except that they were big-faced, very tall and clearly insolent. They looked at us and Chernikov with an expression of superiority.
- Well, why the hell are you giving them portions? Did you fall out of the oak tree? - asked Kolya Filonov, - they are from the Kremlin... Yes, even from the Bastille!
“Yes, Kolya probably just ate too much henbane, no other way,” I said, “it’s not enough for him to give birth to old things, he decided to answer his call to hound.”
“You don’t understand anything,” Chernikov said hysterically, “it’s not Zavidovo for you, here is Kupavna and completely different laws!” It’s better not to fool around, but to do what you’re supposed to do! - I was shocked by what I heard. Kolya Chernikov decided to give birth to his call. While I was shocked, Max answered very rudely and harshly:
- Tell the guys from the Kremlin that if they are used to eating well and want me to bring them portions, let them kiss my ass! - Filonov specifically said this with the right volume so that the first-timers could hear everything. They were just carefully watching what was happening, chewing their food. Max's answer angered them so much that they even stopped working their jaws out of indignation and began using gestures to threaten Max and me.
Filonov and I laughed in response and calmly sat down to eat. Well, not quite calmly, of course, but they tried to maintain a confident appearance. In this situation, I really liked the healthy aggression on Max's part. Anton Glukhov and Ruslan Konyakhin also supported us. The others pretended not to notice anything. The story with the Kremlin guys continued at night. The company had long since retreated, everyone was fast asleep, including me. I was awakened by a strange conversation: someone demanded that Filonov go to the toilet. I quickly realized that Max was being invited to a showdown. After a short conversation, he got up and went, so to speak, to the call. I stood up a few seconds later and followed.
Going into the toilet, I saw familiar guys from the Kremlin there, standing near the washbasins with insolent faces.
- Wow! The second one has arrived too! - said one of the Kremlin soldiers, - that’s right, we need to give both of them pi..dy!
The superiority of forces was, of course, on the side of those from the first company, but Filonov and I were not distinguished by our fragile physique and timid character. I looked around, saw a wooden mop standing nearby and took it. Max thought for a second and also grabbed the equipment. It was quite possible to fight with a mop.
- If you want to fight, guys, let's fight. “Max and I don’t mind,” I said.
- Easily! It's even funny! - Filonov confirmed my words.
Of course, there were more “guys from the Kremlin”; to be more precise, there were five of them. But my appearance, wooden mops in my hands, clearly disrupted the plans of the impudent people. I don’t know what exactly they were counting on, but clearly not a bloody battle. They probably just wanted to piss Max off from the bottom of their hearts. Seeing what our night meeting was threatening to develop into, one of the pioneers, the healthiest, most aggressive and arrogant in appearance, spoke:
- Well, are you just getting into a fight?
- What else do we have left? Can we wait until you punch us in the face? - I clarified.
“Why just hit me straight away, maybe we wanted to talk,” the impudent fellow spoke again.
- And that’s why, as soon as I went to the toilet, you wanted to immediately give me pussy?
- Well, okay, Lyokha Kurochkin just said it in the heat of the moment. Nobody wanted to fight, but we need to clarify something. We came from the Kremlin and gave birth there. And we are all,” the impudent fellow waved his hand around the whole company, “confident.” We don't need to be told to kiss someone's ass.
“Yeah, it’s clear,” said Filonov, “but we’re not wretched either, you don’t need to send your sixes to us, we won’t give birth to you, don’t even wait!”
- Well, we didn’t send Kolya to you. We puzzled him, that's for sure. But only him. Why did he run to you, who the hell knows, we didn’t demand anything from you. And then you immediately started being rude and told us to kiss your ass. That’s not good either,” explained another unfamiliar first-timer.
“They’re just diplomats, damn it! It’s clear that they sent Chernikov specifically to us, and now they’re making up ideas on the fly: they say, ‘I’m innocent, he came on his own.’ They want to make Max and I look like fools,” I thought to myself . Be that as it may, it became clear that no one wanted a fight. The guys were just looking for weaklings. Perhaps Filonov could be omitted, that’s always nice. Well, if they didn’t succeed, to hell with him - they’ll find someone else, let him go, and force him to give birth to himself. In general, the behavior of the pioneers was unusual, strange, daring, but understandable. The Kremlin had to accept our position: there is no need to go to the Zavidovtsy department, otherwise there will be conflicts. After a conversation in the toilet, a kind of peace treaty was concluded between us, the participants of which were in a state of armed neutrality. So these negotiations can safely be called the “Kupavnova toilet conference.” During the conversation, I learned that the most arrogant first-timer is called Denis Gavrikov, and his nickname is Gavrila.
After talking in the toilet, Max and I went to bed. The first day in Kupavna managed to provide quite a bit of food for thought. I went to bed thinking that the day's events were somehow unusual. We put things in order in the company, arranged bedside tables, but we didn’t remember it. I remember the mayonnaise, the search for it, the meeting with Boldin and, of course, the conflict with the perverts. The latter were generally very surprising: in this company, are there only scum? In the future, I met other soldiers from the first company and realized that, of course, not everyone there is scum, just impudent people are everywhere and always striking. But in general, the first company was in a special position in the regiment and many who came from it considered themselves the elite. Simply because it was the pioneers who stepped up to the main guard of the Presidential Regiment - the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, in the local language - MNS. Again, at all ceremonial Kremlin events, the first company always played the main role...to be continued
By the way, the above image from the 19th century shows the complete absence (at least part) of the Kremlin wall.
Part 1
What is the Moscow Kremlin? It is a symbol of patriotism and a reflection of power in the minds of many Russian residents. What about Russia, this is a stereotyped image of the “Russian threat” throughout the “civilized” world. But this image is woven by global propaganda. But what is the Kremlin, physically? To free yourself from mental sleep, it is important to know this.
Today there will be simple magic. No fantasies or dubious guesses. Let's get acquainted with several available sources, and the Kremlin will immediately look 300...350 years younger. So let's get started.
Let's start with the fact that in 1485 the construction of the “currently existing” (this is what is written in all official sources) Kremlin walls began and ended in 1495. They were built instead of the old, white stone ones. After the completion of construction, the Moscow Kremlin went through a lot. After all, 500 years have passed. How did this affect its walls and 20 towers? Let's go through some of them by name. 
(Fig. 1. Plan of the Moscow Kremlin)
Vodovzvodnaya (Sviblova) tower built in 1488.
“In 1805, the ancient tower, which was in danger of falling, was dismantled to its foundation, and in 1807 it was rebuilt. In 1812, the French completely blew it up, and in 1816-1819, the architect Osip Bove restored the tower with some deviations from its previous forms, and later it was restored again after a lightning strike.”
So, the tower became younger and transformed. She was 500 years old, but became less than 200.
Tainitskaya tower built in 1485.
“In 1770-1771, this part of the Kremlin wall, along with four towers (Tainitskaya, Petrovskaya, and two Nameless) was dismantled to make way for the new Kremlin Palace designed by the architect Vasily Bazhenov. When, a few years later, Empress Catherine II abandoned the expensive project, the Tainitskaya tower was restored to its original form according to the drawings of Matvey Kazakov...”
Petrovskaya Tower built in 1480.
In addition to the above demolition in 1771 - “During Patriotic War In 1812, the tower was blown up by the retreating French. Six years later, in its current form (not in its previous form - author) it was rebuilt by the architect Osip Bove ... "
It is now clear that most of the walls and towers along the Moskva River embankment, according to official data, are no older than 250 years old, and do not look the same as they were before the 18th century.
Spasskaya Tower built in 1491.
If you look closely at (Fig. 2), you will see that the shape of the Spassky Gate and the clock are different from the current ones. And rightly so, it is so: “In the beginning the tower was quadrangular and half as low. In 1624-1625, the Russian architect Bazhen Ogurtsov and the English master Galovey erected a multi-tiered top over the tower, ending with a stone tent, and installed a clock... in 1706-1707, a grandiose Dutch clock was installed on the tower... In 1770, the Dutch wonder was replaced by English chimes, which in In the middle of the 19th century, the Butenop brothers overhauled it. That’s when the watch acquired its current appearance...”
Rice. 2. Differences between the Spassky Towers before and after...
It looks as if it has been standing since the 15th century, and only the upper half of the tower was erected 150 years later. The main parts of today's watches are only 150 years old. Unfortunately, this information does not seem complete and reliable. At a minimum, the Spassky Gate was rebuilt.
Nikolskaya Tower built in 1491.
“In 1812, the French, retreating from Moscow, blew up the tower... The tower was restored four years later by the architect Osip Bove...”
This tower turned out to be no older than 200 years. All the above quotes are taken from the book “The Moscow Kremlin. Red Square" (National Geographical Society, Veche Publishing House, Moscow 2010), purchased by the author during an excursion to the Kremlin Armory. However, this information is also available from other sources.
Officially, 4 of the 20 towers and a significant part of the wall turned out to be completely new, and the upper tiers of all the towers have a declared age of approximately 380 years. This is far from 500, but the masonry of the remaining 16 towers, which do not seem to have been destroyed, looks no less modern (except for the lower part of the Kutafya Tower).
The wall along its entire length is replete with traces of repairs from different times. Even to the left of the supposedly 500-year-old Spasskaya Tower, a large section of the newly laid wall is clearly visible. However, observing from a distance of 15 meters, it is difficult to determine when this happened, maybe under Khrushchev, or maybe under Alexander I.
State brickwork in our latitudes it depends most on frost weathering. The fact is that stone or brick that is directly exposed to precipitation is subject to destruction. Water, entering the smallest pores, freezes in winter and, expanding, splits the stone. Several hundred cycles of such weathering do this (Fig. 3), (Fig. 4). This is the Smolensk Kremlin, which is 100 years younger than the Moscow one.
Fig.3. Dilapidated battlements of the Smolensk Kremlin.
Fig.4. Frost weathering sample; Smolensk Kremlin
In fact, the same thing should have happened with the Moscow Kremlin. But look how perfectly preserved the battlements of the walls are along almost the entire perimeter (Fig. 5). 
Rice. 5. The battlements of the Moscow Kremlin are like new
Except that they were taken care of very carefully. How could they do this? Is it possible to avoid the destructive effects of frost weathering? Yes, you can, for this the masonry needs to be protected from precipitation, at least from above.
If there are any roofs on the Kremlin towers, and only covering the tents themselves, then the battlements of the walls are open to all rain and snow. Many believe that this was the case before. See Picard's 17th century engraving (Fig. 6).
Fig.6. Kremlin walls without a roof - 17th century engraving.
And here is another engraving, made according to a drawing from the same 17th century (Fig. 7), and there are completely different walls. 
Fig.7. Kremlin walls with roof - 17th century engraving.
The ledge at the top of the wall is clearly visible, which is not in sight today. That is, just different walls in the same place. But this is one of the few engravings and drawings where they have a roof.
There is also an album by Meyerberg (Fig. 8, Fig. 9, Fig. 10): “Views and everyday paintings of Russia in the 17th century.” Drawings from the Dresden Album, reproduced from the original in life size (1661-62 - Edition by A. S. Suvorin, 1903). There is also a roof here, but now there is no protrusion at the top of the wall, as we see today.
Fig.8. Kremlin walls with roof - 17th century engraving.
Fig.9. Kremlin walls with roof - 17th century engraving.
Fig. 10. Kremlin walls with roof - 17th century engraving.
The Kremlin could not have posed differently for all artists in the same century. It turns out that one of them is wrong, or they accidentally forgot to tell us about the large-scale reconstruction of the walls in the 17th century. For example, together with the addition of tents on the towers. And what, I wonder, was the need for this, after only 150 years of their service? They themselves are unlikely to have fallen.
This remains to be clarified over time, but one thing is clear - already in the 18th century no one depicts roofs over the walls of the Kremlin. Since then, over the course of 300 years, they were supposed to be destroyed. Roundings of the brick should appear on the edges, chipping of the horizontal areas of the teeth and loopholes.
This can only be repaired by replacing damaged areas. Scratching out several bricks at a time while trying to preserve the surrounding masonry is labor-intensive, and the appearance will be very different. It is easier, as it becomes dilapidated, to rebuild a section of the wall, slightly changing the details in accordance with the realities, but maintaining the general style - these M-shaped teeth. Today we see the result of such work along the entire perimeter of the structure. Apparently, in the 18th century, as now, the new owners of Moscow completely ceased to understand why the battlements on the walls have such a specific shape. Maintaining the overall style began to play a decisive role. Meanwhile, the answer to this question not only lies on the surface, but also clearly leads to interesting conclusions that deserve separate consideration and will be shown in the second part of the article.
So, for now you can do the following conclusions:
– A significant part of the walls and 4 towers of the Kremlin, according to official data, are new, and the rest, which we are shown today as ancient, were rebuilt no later than 200 years ago, and since then they have been repaired in sections several times. Old elements can probably be found there only in the foundations and backfill.
– Official propaganda deliberately supports the myth of the antiquity of the Kremlin walls and towers, contrary to established facts, although in many Russian cities there are much older and no less historical buildings. Apparently, the purpose of this is not only to attract tourists, but also to support another myth. The myth of Moscow as a gatherer of lands from scratch, and the ancestor of the Russian state.
P.S.
All this, despite the historicity of Borovitsky Hill itself, does not give grounds to call the current Kremlin ancient. But it still holds many mysteries. The place now occupied by the mausoleum and stone stands used to be a deep ditch (up to 13 m deep and 34 m wide) filled with water. This ditch was artificially dug in 1508 and stretched from the Corner Arsenal Tower to Beklemishevskaya, connecting the Neglinnaya River with the Moscow River. It was a complex engineering structure and had at least 4 locks, bridges and additional protective walls. It is not at all clear how it was filled with water at all. Only in 1813 the ditch was filled in for unknown reasons. On the territory of the Kremlin there is the Tsar Cannon, as an example of a gigantic and aimless prop, and the Tsar Bell, the official history of whose creation is striking in its absurdity. All this is worth taking a closer look at...
Part 2
It so happened that by the time I wrote the second part of the article, I received some direct and indirect feedback, as well as links from readers of the first part. They often asked the question: “What is the purpose of writing an article?” This requires some explanation. Our time is truly too valuable to write and read in vain.
By offering readers articles about the Kremlin, I, of course, did not pursue the goal of weakening the patriotic impulses of Russian citizens, and thereby did not at all threaten its integrity. It’s just that sooner or later a sane person must ask himself the question: “What is this, Russia?” It is important to answer this question yourself and outside the box.
Then this person may be surprised to learn that he unofficially lives in Russia, as if in parentheses.
Officially our country is called Russian Federation, and this is not a small thing at all. Maybe then this person will ask himself the question: “Why can’t you live in just RUSSIA officially, but only in some kind of federation?” Where did the word “Russia” come from then, if our state was never officially called by it - not 100 years ago, not 300, not 500? If you are a patriot, then, first of all, figure it out - a patriot of what?! If you don’t consider yourself a Russian, then at least explain to yourself on what basis you want to be a Russian, and not a Russian Federation citizen!
The Moscow Kremlin was made a symbol of our Motherland. I emphasize that officially only the Moscow Kremlin is written with a capital letter, although we have plenty of other Kremlins. And not at all because it is the oldest or largest, but because it is a symbol. Isn't it our responsibility as patriots to understand what this really is? In this regard, there is another interesting remark from readers: “The Kremlin cannot be called a remake, even if it is recently built, but on old foundations and using elements of the previous design. The place itself, protected for centuries by walls, albeit different ones, gives the Kremlin the right to be called ancient.”
Well, that's what I call manipulation. Yes, I really think that the 19th century, compared to the 15th century, is recent. I insist that if in the 19th century something different from the previous one was built on an old foundation (and this is a fact), and they put it in the backfill construction garbage in the form of fragments of old masonry, then this is a NEW MONEY. And if, for example, you know about this, then please do not shout at every corner that these walls saw Ivan the Terrible, because this is a lie.
And, finally, when someone calls on all Russian citizens to be imbued with special respect for the antiquity of Borovitsky Hill, on which the Kremlin is located, it would not be bad to understand that this indirectly speaks of its certain exclusivity. And this is also not true. It’s time to realize that almost every hill here is on a steep bank at the confluence of rivers, this is a historical place, not to mention the old cities that live to this day.
The links sent by readers (I thank everyone for the materials) really showed big number repair work in the Kremlin, even in Lately. Interestingly, special work was carried out to drain the masonry by drilling ventilation holes. This means that there is such a problem, and has been for the last 200 years. In general, these materials complement and do not refute what was written in the first part. Now let’s continue studying the “heart of our Motherland” under a microscope.
When gentlemen scientists cannot explain why a building, weapon, etc. has one form or another, then they always have a standard explanation ready - it was done for beauty. Even if “for beauty” it was necessary to lift a 50-ton column through the air to the height of a 10-story building, building unimaginably ingenious devices, wasting enormous resources and dooming thousands of people to starvation. This doesn't bother them. And the same thing happened with the Kremlin walls - instead of an explanation, there is a touching story about how this wonderful profile visually connects individual teeth into a single line. Wonderful! Well, isn't that worth an extra million bricks.
Here is a quote from the work of V.V. Kostochkina “Russian defense architecture of the late 13th and early 16th centuries”, Nauka publishing house, Moscow 1962:
“...A clear “comb” of battlements in the form of a dovetail visually lightened the upper parts of the fortress walls of the defensive structures and testified to their direct connection with each other. Moreover, separated from each other by small intervals, the battlements in the form of a swallowtail, freely combined with the wide spacing of the arches of the fortress walls, seemed to complement and support their clear rhythm... Characteristic of many defensive structures built in different places countries and at a later time, this kind of teeth were, as it were, a symbol of Rus'. Their clear form figuratively spoke of the inextricable connection of various fortified points with the capital of the state and testified to the cohesion of the Russian lands ... "
But Vladimir Vladimirovich Kostochkin was a Doctor of Historical Sciences since 1964, a professor at the Moscow Architectural Institute, Honored Architect of the RSFSR (1990), head of the department of architectural restoration at the Moscow architectural institute in 1971-1977 And also, which is typical, deputy chairman of the presidium of the scientific and methodological council for the protection of cultural monuments under the USSR Ministry of Culture, head of the restoration section. Well, isn't it authority?
People are also discussing this issue on the Internet. It is interesting that the not unreasonable opinion is that the battlements were built with a hollow on top in order to more often use budget funds for their repairs. But of course, after all, ice accumulates there in winter, which, when thawed, soaks the entire masonry of the tooth, and during a summer thunderstorm, this is also a wonderful drain that washes away the mortar. This is, of course, ironic, but the question remains.
Let's forget about beauty and think about rationality, since scientists, instead of their work (they get paid for this, after all), have taken up the fine arts. The battlement on the wall is, first of all, a cheap and effectively organized battlement. Let's see how it is formed. The base of the wall is always thick to resist battering devices. This thickness allows, without adding bricks from the inside at the top of the wall, to organize a protected area. And the height of the wall is maintained, and bricks are saved. But the defenders of the fortress must also shoot from this platform, or throw something down. There's a dilemma here. If you build a high flange, as tall as a person or even up to your chest, you won’t be able to throw anything heavy, and it’s uncomfortable to shoot. If you build it low, up to your waist, you will be able to move on your bellies on the wall during a siege, otherwise you will be shot at. There is an exit. You build a high flange and leave gaps in it. Bricks are saved and battlements are obtained, behind which it is easy to hide at full height and it is convenient to fire.
It seems easy, and doctors of historical sciences understand all this too. But the height of the Kremlin battlements is not the height of a person (175 cm), but 2.5-3 meters. The above is not enough to explain this, and the question immediately arises: why was the additional meter of height added? Were you counting on giants? Of course not, there was a completely understandable reason.
For a colorful illustration, let us recall the fairy-tale battle film “The Lord of the Rings”. The inhabitants of Rohan took refuge in the fortress of Helm's Deep and, finally, the defenders lined the walls to repel the attack. They stand in a line at full height, and look from there at the enemy. The teeth are up to their chests. When the shelling began, only the gnome was protected by these walls. But then, at the most tense moment, it started to rain. Everyone was soaked to the skin. How they showed miracles after that martial art, I personally don’t understand. Well, okay, the attacking side suffers inconvenience, because you can’t go on an attack with an umbrella. But on the wall you can, you know, with an umbrella, and with a canopy, and even under the roof - it’s absolutely beautiful. But what to take from the Rokhants - shepherds, horse breeders. And in general, this is a fairy tale, but our ancestors were not like that.
In Rus', a roof was carefully built over each wall. Considering the climate with muddy roads, this is a very convenient option. Let the enemy down there slurp wet feet through the mud all the way to the ports, and here we will stand dry on the wall under the roof, and then warm up in the turret.
As the engravings convince us, the Kremlin walls also had a roof throughout the entire period of their intended use (until the mid-18th century). Namely:
“The Moscow Kremlin should not be misleading - today it looks completely different from what it used to be: the gable wooden roof on the walls burned down in 1737 and was never restored...” (Bartenev S.P. “The Moscow Kremlin in the Old Time and Now.” M., 1912. T. 1.S. 57, 58).
And it is clear that the height of the roof (teeth) should be about 2.5 meters, so that the halberds do not cling to the translations. And here is the solution to the terrible secret of the M-shaped teeth (Fig. 11).
This photograph was taken in the Novgorod Kremlin. At that same " dovetail» The rafters have been laid. Or rather, it should have been laid according to all the laws of the art of construction, half forgotten by modern restorers. The aesthetics of a “clear “comb” of teeth” does not matter here. The beauty is simply not visible due to the overhanging roof slope.
And most of the stone walls in Rus' had such battlements (the fortifications of Novgorod, Nizhny Novgorod, Tula, Kolomna, Ivangorod and Zaraysk), but not at all because of solidarity with Moscow, but because of the rain. If the sky often drips, then a roof is needed - a frame of rafters is needed for the roof - the rafters need to be laid in nests. Conclusion - make a dovetail type tooth. And this form is very convenient, as it allows you to use rafters of any diameter, which means you can quickly repair damage to the roof using available materials.
This story of academic limitations has a continuation. In search of pseudo-scientific explanations for the obvious, we agreed that this form of teeth is:
“GHIBELLINE TENKS are a characteristic element of defensive structures of the European Middle Ages... The name arose from the party of the Ghibellines (Italian: Ghibellini), opponents of the Guelphs, supporters of the German emperors and the aristocratic form of government... The leader of the Ghibellines - Podesta (Italian: podesta - “ruler”) built impregnable fortresses with high walls and towers with characteristic battlements... During the construction of new walls and towers of the Moscow Kremlin under the leadership of Italian architects in 1485-1516. they were also crowned with “Ghibelline teeth”” (Vlasov V.G. “New Encyclopedic Dictionary visual arts": In 10 volumes - St. Petersburg: ABC-classics, 2004-2009).
The entire scientific world considers decorating walls with similar teeth to be something like a “friend or foe” password. They say that the knights saw from afar whose castle it was - the Ghibellines or the Guelphs. What: you couldn’t learn three castles by heart? After all, there are castles with such battlements only in northern Italy, and there are really only three of them. Anyway, like this identification mark doesn't make sense, it's easier to hang flags. What should you do, for example, if the castle was captured by opponents, should you break the battlements? We understand that we are talking about traditional design solutions used in the construction of defensive structures, even within these clans and families. Talking about structures with dovetail teeth means talking about roofs on walls - therefore, about rainy weather.
Moreover, in the northern provinces of Italy, as elsewhere in Rus', this “swallow beauty” was simply not visible. See Sforzo Castle in Milan (Fig. 12), which is considered the prototype of the Moscow Kremlin.
What, did you see a lot of “swallowtails” there? And this, standing right under the walls, and from afar... Rosso Castle (red) not far from Turin (Fig. 13).
As you can see, there are also roofs provided here. All the more southern fortresses on the Apennine peninsula managed perfectly with square battlements and never had roofs. That is, special teeth are present where roofs on walls were in use.
Could such an architectural style have developed in Italy, where it is mostly dry and hot, and 2/3 of the year is sunny? Indeed, it could, but only in the north of the peninsula, where the climate changes from subtropical to moderate continental. It could just be Milan, Venice and Turin. It turns out that although it is warmer there than here, the annual precipitation rate is even greater than in Moscow. And although at first I had doubts about the Italian origin of the Kremlin architects, after looking at the Nikon Chronicle, I personally became convinced that this was so (if, of course, you trust the later copies of the lost chronicles even a little).
To logically complete the picture with dovetail-type battlements, it is worth noting that even before the 15th century, stone fortresses in Rus' had roofs, but the features of the stonework dictated a preference for other architectural forms. The teeth there are larger and simplified in shape. Take a look, for example, at the Pskov Kremlin (Fig. 14), (Fig. 15).
However, there is the only exception in the world - the Italian castle of Fenis (Fig. 16), which, although built of stone, has the same shape of battlements.
Its walls today have no roof, but it is located in the same northern part of Italy where other castles with special battlements and roofs are located. Therefore, we can assume that there were roofs on its walls. Of course, these complex shapes can be made from stone, but it is more convenient to make them from brick. Therefore, what did not take root in Italy (there are only 3 such castles, and they are small compared to our Kremlins) continued to be used in Rus'.
Of course, there may be other versions of the use of a special form of teeth, of course, besides simple beauty. For example, the features of the technique of assault and defense of fortress walls of that time. But, unfortunately, such versions are not heard from authoritative sources today. They don't sound at all.
It's interesting to figure out how this could happen? Once upon a time there lived in Rus', masters built fortresses, erected cities and cathedrals. And suddenly some foreigners were needed. Where did yours go? At this moment, historians always sing the same mournful song about the heavy Tatar-Mongol yoke and the decline of crafts. But archaeological data tell a different story - during these centuries, many crafts here, on the contrary, were revived and developed after a failure at the beginning of the millennium, which strangely coincided with the forced baptism of Rus'.
This question can be answered in one word – “schism”. When the Principality of Moscow separated from Great Tartary (Battle of Kulikovo), cultural and economic ties with the Empire were interrupted. Many masters did not want to accept the new position and left Muscovy, or simply refused to work. The Empire was also in no hurry to help a potential enemy. In my opinion, the same situation arose under Peter I. He brought engineering and management personnel from abroad not at all because he did not have his own. As a rule, his own people did not want to serve him. These are not ordinary people. They had to understand what was happening around them.
The best proof of this is the so-called nugget masters, of whom many can be named in the 18th century. For example:
“In 1718, a peasant from the village of Pokrovskoe near Moscow, Efim Prokopyevich Nikonov, who worked as a carpenter at a state-owned shipyard, wrote in a petition to Peter I that he was undertaking to make a ship that could sail “secretly” in the water and approach enemy ships “to the very bottom,” and also “to use a shell to destroy ships.” Peter I appreciated the proposal and ordered, “hidden from prying eyes,” to begin work, and the Admiralty Collegiums to promote Nikonov to “master of hidden ships.” First, a model was built that successfully stayed afloat, sank and moved underwater. In August 1720, in St. Petersburg at the Galerny Yard, the world's first submarine was secretly laid down without unnecessary publicity... The original submersion system consisted of several tin plates with many capillary holes, which were mounted in the bottom of the boat. During the ascent, water taken into a special tank through holes in the plates was removed overboard using a piston pump. At first, Nikonov intended to arm the boat with guns, but then he decided to install an airlock chamber through which, when the ship was underwater, a diver dressed in a spacesuit (designed by the inventor himself) could emerge and, using tools, destroy the bottom of the enemy ship. Later, Nikonov retrofitted the boat with “fiery copper pipes,” information about the principle of operation of which has not reached us...”
A good peasant - both with pumps and with diving equipment. And if necessary, then bring you fiery copper pipes. Apparently, he acquired this specific knowledge during the sowing season. In fact, Nikonov is from that very parallel cultural and engineering elite who did not study at Peter the Great’s academies. The famous Lefty did not study overseas sciences either, but this does not mean that he did not study at all. I am sure that some continuity of knowledge was preserved.
And here it should be noted what the architectural tradition of our masters was until the end of the 15th century. Fortresses in Rus' were built mainly of stone. Brick was well known and more accessible, because clay, unlike stone, is everywhere. However, it is less reliable in terms of moisture and frost, which is why it was used in less critical buildings. Even when the fashion for cheap Italian brick technology prevailed in the 16th century, our builders still preferred to clad the base of the walls and towers with white stone to a height of 1-1.5 meters. It was much more expensive, but was worth it in harsh conditions snowy winters, and moist soil. That is, the foreigners did not teach us anything particularly new. Basically, we introduced economy class technologies.
This explains the very intonation of the expression “White-stone Moscow.” Again, this is not about beauty, at least not only about it. This intonation is respectful, because buildings made of stone are usually expensive and more durable. And that’s why our brick buildings were often whitewashed. Firstly, it really pleases the eye, and secondly, it looks more like stone (looks more valuable), and of course, to some extent protects the masonry from destruction. The Moscow Kremlin did not escape this either:
“In a memorandum submitted on July 7, 1680 to the Tsar, it is said that the Kremlin fortifications were “not whitewashed,” and the Spassky Gate “was painted with ink and whitewash into the brick” (Bartenev SP. Op. cit. Vol. 1. With 57). The note asked: should the Kremlin walls be whitewashed, left as is, or painted “in brick” like the Spassky Gate? The Tsar ordered the Kremlin to be whitewashed with lime... Over time, the brick and stone fortresses began to be whitewashed, and their difference from Italian fortification became even more striking. The first clear indication of the whitewashing of all the walls of the Moscow Kremlin dates back to 1680, although certain parts of it apparently began to be whitewashed even earlier. From 1680 until the beginning of the 20th century, the walls of the Kremlin and Kitai-Gorod were covered with whitewash. Hence the name of Moscow – Belokamennaya...” (Military Historical Journal, No. 5, May 2009, pp. 46-51).
conclusions
If modern restorers wanted to restore exactly that old image of the Kremlin, they would have to whitewash it and cover the walls with a roof. He would be nicer to me like that. But we are offered for veneration a certain fusion of pseudo-antiquity with the legacy of the Jewish regime (red brick). Moreover, it is difficult to say what prevails in this image. It is clear that in an attempt to reveal this illusion, many may see a threat to patriotism. But the question is the quality and value of such a feeling. This artificially created, thoughtless impulse of the masses is more like a religion. What is this game with real people worth? Patriotism and love for one's Motherland can and should be meaningful.
Alexey Artemiev, Izhevsk
