Dear parents, it is very useful to read the fairy tale “Soldier’s tricks (Mari’s fairy tale)” to children before bedtime, so that the good ending of the fairy tale will make them happy and calm, and they will fall asleep. When faced with such strong, strong-willed and kind qualities of a hero, you involuntarily feel the desire to transform yourself into better side. And the thought comes, and behind it the desire, to plunge into this fabulous and incredible world, to win the love of a modest and wise princess. Tens, hundreds of years separate us from the time of creation of the work, but the problems and morals of people remain the same, practically unchanged. The plot is simple and as old as the world, but each new generation finds in it something relevant and useful. A person’s worldview is formed gradually, and this kind of work is extremely important and edifying for our young readers. All images are simple, ordinary and do not cause youthful misunderstanding, because we encounter them every day in our everyday life. The fairy tale "Soldier's tricks (Mari's fairy tale)" is certainly useful to read for free online, it will bring up only good and good people in your child. useful qualities and concepts.
Lived near the main road pop.
At noon, passing soldiers came to the priest for lunch. For lunch, the soldiers gave the priest five gold rubles, and they themselves went along high road further. When the priest began to buy goods in the store, he looked into his wallet and couldn’t believe his eyes: in the wallet there were only slices of carrots.
The priest chased the soldiers. He caught up with them and said:
- Why did you deceive me, you only gave me slices of carrots!
“It’s not carrots, look, it’s gold coins,” the soldiers tell him.
The priest looked in his wallet and it was indeed gold. Pop went to buy goods again. He takes the goods, looks in his wallet - and again there are only slices of carrots. The priest chased after the soldiers again, now in threes.
He caught up with the soldier and said again:
- Why did you deceive me? You only gave me slices of carrots!
“No,” the soldiers tell him, “look carefully, it’s not carrots, but gold!”
The priest looked into the wallet and couldn’t believe his eyes, it was really gold. The priest turned and drove back home. He starts buying goods, looks in his wallet, there is not money there, but again carrots.
So the priest was deceived three times. Now the priest writes a complaint to the king.
The day of judgment has arrived. The priest and one soldier were invited to the trial. They compare the money, the brand and those given by the soldiers with the brand, everything fits.
The judge ruled:
“The soldiers did the right thing, they are not to blame. And you, priest, are completely stupid. Your hair is long, but your mind is short. Therefore, the court decides to cut your long hair.
So the priest was left without hair.
After the trial, the king asks the soldier:
- Is it true that you were showing your butt a trick?
“Yes,” says the soldier. “I didn’t give him gold, but slices of carrots.”
“If so, then show me your trick,” says the king.
“If you don’t kill me, I’ll show you,” says the soldier.
“No, I won’t order you to kill,” the king says to the soldier.
The soldier left the palace. At the same time, water rushed inside the door. The king was greatly surprised, his eyes widened.
“Let’s go up to the second floor,” says the soldier.
“Wait, I’ll get up too, otherwise I might drown,” the king shouted.
As soon as the king managed to get up, there was water on the second floor. We went up to the third floor. Lo and behold, there is water here too. Where to next? Now they have climbed onto the roof.
Frightened by the water, the king hugged the pipe and sat astride it.
They see a boat floating. They got into the boat and let's sail towards dry land. They swim to the ground, where they see a large village.
The king was very hungry. What is there?
- Let's hire ourselves as shepherds, otherwise we have nothing to eat. “I will be a contractor, and you will be a helper,” the soldier told him.
They tended the herd all summer and were well fed. Graze until autumn. They collected money from the people for herding the flock. They began to live like the rest of the people. The soldier was made a foreman, and the king a foreman. And the next year the soldier was appointed volost, the tsar - rural. But at this time the king made a big waste. The policeman arrived and the tsar was convicted and decided to be sent to Siberia. Before the trial, the police officer hit the king in the face.
Then the king woke up. He is the king again.
This whole story happened while the samovar was boiling. And before the second samovar boiled, the tsar was gone: he was overthrown.
Fairy tale - away, the king - under my heel.
The soldier served with the Tsar for three years, and the Tsar gave him three kopecks for his service. Well, he went home. He walks, and on the way he comes across a mouse:
— Hello, soldier!
— Hello, mouse!
-Where have you been, soldier?
— Served.
— Three kopecks!
— Give me one kopeck, maybe I’ll be useful to you.
“Well,” thought the soldier, “there was no money, and there’s no money here either!”
— Hello, soldier!
— Hello, beetle!
-Where have you been, soldier?
— Served.
— Did the king give a lot of money for his service?
— I gave three kopecks, but I gave the mouse one kopeck, there are two left!
— Give me a penny, maybe I’ll be useful to you too.
— Hello, soldier!
— Hello, cancer!
-Where have you been, soldier?
— Served.
— Did the king give a lot of money for his service?
— Gave three kopecks, and I gave the mouse a penny, the beetle a penny, and there was still one left.
—Give me a penny too, maybe I’ll be useful to you too!
I gave that penny back and left without any money. And the soldier just had to go through St. Petersburg and with Vasilyevsky Island cross the Neva over the bridge. This is the bridge that approaches the Winter Palace. And on the bridge there is no room for people to squeeze through, much less for a soldier to get through. The soldier asks the people:
— What is going on here?
And they answer him:
— That's it, soldier. The king's daughter made a vow: whoever makes her laugh will marry him. You see, she’s sitting on the balcony, and in the square they’re trying in every possible way to make the princess laugh, but they can’t come up with anything!
Well, there’s nothing to do, you can’t cross the bridge, the soldier walked behind the railing. But his overcoat was torn, somehow he caught a hole in a nut and pulled him off the bridge into the Neva. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a mouse, a beetle, a cancer, a soldier was pulled out of the Neva, and right in front of the Winter Palace, where the princess was standing on the balcony. Here the mouse takes it off, the beetle squeezes out the footcloths, and the crab has placed its forks and footcloths in the sun and is drying them. It was a good day!
And the princess saw it on the balcony, laughed and clapped her hands:
— Oh, how well the soldier is looked after!
Well, the soldier was immediately taken away, brought to the king, and the king said:
- So that’s it, soldier, royal word I can’t take it back, and I must fulfill my daughter’s vow, to marry my daughter to you!
Well, without thinking twice, an honest feast for the wedding.
Yes, the soldier did not have to live with the king for long; he wanted to go home. The king says to him:
— So that you don’t have to walk on foot, son-in-law, I’ll give you a horse!
And he gave him an ice mare, a pea whip, a blue caftan and a red hat. So the soldier mounted the mare and rode home.
As soon as the gray haze made its way down the trunks, the company commander jumped up, as if he had not slept. He looked around and smacked himself on his invisible cap. His entire team is not exactly lions, but like wet cats standing in one line in all their naturalness... It’s sickening to even watch. The rope between them sagged, they looked down at the ground, and Kablukov was the most sour of all, like a horse thief who had been knocked down.
The disembodied company commander pulled the string - grunt!... - he separated from the team, and how it thundered... Even though you couldn’t see it, you could hear it: the paw shook in front of him. I watered it for five minutes, and blew out all the infantry-army words that were appropriate. And when he feels a little better, he asks in a hoarse voice:
- How did this happen, Kablukov?! Therefore, your composition is effective only from dawn to dusk. So, your old lady...
And he went again to bless the old woman. You can’t resist, the case is too serious.
Kablukov raised his eyes, repented and begged:
- Your Highness! Guilty without guilt! Even if you wrap my soul around barbed wire, I’ll be executed myself. Yesterday, as I was buying sausage, I drank some cognac at the same time. The old woman, who was dying, slammed the shaft into her mouth and clearly said: only vodka can reduce this incorporeal polish. And not a word about cognac. We drank a jar at night without hesitation. Well, what a sin it was...
What should a company commander do? He's not a beast, he's an understanding man. He poked Kablukov lightly in the bridge of his nose.
- Oh, you dumpling with a washcloth... What am I going to report to the regimental commander now? You stabbed me!...
– Don’t be upset, Your Highness. The Germans, for example, carried out a gas attack, and our train dispersed. So report back...
- Look, you Dutch diplomat! Okay! Just watch, guys, don’t say a word to anyone. Well, give me some cognac, I also need to wash off the disembodied mica from myself.
Kablukov was embarrassed, served the damask, and there, at the bottom, drop after drop was chasing. The company commander knocked it over, sucked it, but the portion was not enough. He turned all blue, as if melted ice, but did not enter his real body.
- Oh, Herods!... Fly, Kablukov, to the dressing room, get me at least a cup of alcohol. Otherwise, in this form, how can one toss and turn: a boss is not a boss, a jelly is not a jelly...
He blessed Kablukov with half his heart, hid himself in the heather under a pine tree and began to wait.
It's been 15 years since I took off my senior sergeant's shoulder straps conscript service. Then it was the Soviet army. "Invincible and legendary." As for invincibility, this was proven by our ancestors, but every generation had a hand in “legendary”. Many of the legends could only have been born in the army. Army life, sometimes, presents such tricks that it won’t work on purpose. Soldier's humor can be a little rough, but that doesn't compromise its quality.
For me, the universal reshuffling of the geography of service and type of military activity in relation to place of residence and civilian specialty remained an unsolved mystery. If you were called up from Moscow, then you more often ended up somewhere near Chita. And from Khabarovsk they were taken to serve in Belarus. Also, if you were an electrician in civilian life, you were sent to the landing force or reconnaissance. And if you were a builder, you were made into a rocket scientist or a signalman. Only the drivers were relatively lucky. And that’s because they were trained by DOSAAF. The worst thing was to join the fleet. Another year went well. I'm lucky. Having picked out a second-year student at the Moscow Medical School, my native Cheryomushkinsky military registration and enlistment office quickly identified me as a tank driver. This is how the future doctor became familiar with heavy equipment. And then “a white coat, test tubes - cones, heating pads - thermometers.” Oily overalls, sledgehammer in hand and “Mom, don’t worry”! It would have been more logical to send a medic from the medical battalion or, at worst, to the regimental first aid station. Injections, IVs - easy. Enemas, mustard plasters - one at a time. No problems. I asked. However, a medical instructor who came from another “training school” was assigned there. Before the army, the guy worked on a loader, and knew tractors like his own. But, apparently, we were confused. He was torn away from the wrenches, and I from the “anatomist.” This was “wise policy.” Sometimes I thought that fate was simply hinting to me about “those born to crawl.” But although I am terrified of heights, I still want to fly to this day. Dream, sir.
A similar tale is told with variations in different parts. Moreover, everyone swears that it was in their regiment or battalion that this incident took place. Heroes and objects change - remains storyline. I cannot say unequivocally that these are just “fairy tales”. I fully admit the possibility of parallel coexistence of many similar cases. And what? This doesn’t happen in life! One way or another, I will tell you the version of the valiant Zaporozhye Guards Armored Regiment.
Serving in the summer is much more fun. Both more comfortable and easier! Among the “hardships and deprivations of military service” there is no cold. And this is the Great Good. Those who served will understand me. In winter, it doesn’t hurt to snore in the shade while the bosses are away. We joked like this: “There are three degrees of freezing: 1st when it’s cold, 2nd when it’s very cold, and 3rd when it doesn’t matter.” I got to the point of “don’t care” a few times, but that’s a different story.
So here it is. Every day, a squad is assigned to any unit from a company and above. Guard, kitchen, equipment parks, etc. Including internal, in location. Outfit for company (battery, etc.). Consisting of a sergeant and 2 - 3 orderlies from the soldiers. In order to ensure “internal order and routine” plus cleaning of public places and territory. The unwritten rule is to close barracks toilets for “general use” in the summer. In winter, for humanitarian reasons, indoor toilets were opened, but remember the last compartment in a general carriage. What's it like? Of course, it doesn’t smell as good in the cold as it does in the heat! However, you have to clean ten times a day. And in summer there are fewer problems. He waved the mop once, for formality. Hang up the lock and sit and smoke. For the “walking” of personnel during the warm season, there is a regimental “outhouse-type toilet.” Fifty seats. You can launch a couple of platoons at once! I will not retell Jaroslav Hasek. The procedure for the organized discharge of natural needs in the army is described masterfully by the “good soldier Schweik”. Where are we from world classics?
So. One day I took over as company duty officer. Unlike his colleagues, he did not sleep at night, so he recruited guilty loafers and supervised “correctional work.” “Silent Ukrainian night...” warm weather, July, cicadas, stars. Left the location. I smoke and dream about demobilization. An orderly for a free shift is approaching. “Allow me,” he says, “comrade senior sergeant to the regimental toilet, otherwise I just cleaned it up, and then I got the urge!” Why not allow it? “Blow,” I say.”
Ten minutes pass. The stomp is heard. My little soldier is flying. What an exemplary one! Be-gom! Flies up. “Trouble,” he says, “I dropped my bayonet into the toilet hole!” What should we do?!” For reference: the internal outfit is armed with a bayonet - a Kalashnikov knife, which is hung in a sheath on the waist belt. So you carry a burden all day long. It turns out that for convenience, he took off the belt and hung it around his neck, and as he began to rise, the buckle came undone and the knife and belt fit right into the hole - yank. Paragraph.
I get myself another cigarette and offer it to the unfortunate man, as if he were condemned, before the execution. We lit a cigarette. “Yes,” I say, “soldier, you got it right.” Have you read the charter? About careful attitude towards military equipment? A bayonet is not a pen toy or a table knife. This is a part of your weapon. Have you ever guessed how long the loss will last for the prosecutor? I guess it was a six-month disbat. So, warrior, if you don’t want to go crazy, take a flashlight, a gas mask, an OZK (chemical protection suit) and dive in.” Fortunately, the toilet had been cleaned recently - not deeply. He has nothing to do, under the sympathetic encouragement of the rest of the outfit, he equips himself and stomps to the “regimental parachute”. And I sat down to write a letter.
Time is ticking. 15 – 20 minutes. A sleepy “spirit” emerges - a soldier of the first ½ year. “Can I use the potty?” I casually: “Go away, just quickly!”, I authorize, and again plunge into the epistolary genre. Not even five minutes have passed before the territory of the unit is shaken by a wild scream, turning into a piercing screech. And it is heading in our direction. We are confused, eerie, and the hairs on our heads are standing on end. Just a local horror movie. A soldier flies into the barracks. He holds his pants half down with his hand, his eyes are wild. His squeal turned into some kind of gurgling. He grabs me by the arms, but nothing comes out of his opening mouth other than “A-a-a-a.” I shook him a little - to no effect. Gave it to the turnip. I see some semblance of meaningfulness appearing in the eyes. They poured some water for the unfortunate man. He knocked his teeth on the glass and tried to say something, but all that came out was something like: “Ttttttam, tttttam, tttttam, etc.” Then the regimental duty officer calls: “Everyone is at home,” he asks, “otherwise there’s a maniac running around the unit, and isn’t he in your company?” “We’ll figure it out,” I say. But what can I say, this guy can’t milk the bastard yet. Some more time passes and our “diver” shows up. I even managed to wash myself off in the technical park from the fire hose that washes tanks. Evil as a hundred devils and a little imp to boot. But with a bayonet knife. “Oh,” he says, “here he is, the unfinished bastard. Creeping bastard! And paints a picture for me. At first, he kept trying to use a stick and a nail to act on top. But the trouble is, the belt is unfastened, and the knife is heavy, it keeps slipping off. And with each unsuccessful attempt sinks deeper and deeper. There was nothing to do, he cursed, put on a chemical kit and a gas mask on his face. Fortunately, no one sees. He threw the stick down like a landmark so that he could immediately get on the right course. Climbed through the outer hatch. Naturally, in such situations the person does not look up. Why should he look at the stars through the toilet hole?
By a fateful coincidence, half asleep, the second poor fellow nestled directly above the “outhouse archaeologist.” While he was climbing knee-deep in shit in a cesspool, and a bayonet - a knife with a belt - was freeing him from stinking captivity, the asshole took aim right at his head. We have to think. It's a shame. Even though you’re wearing a gas mask, it doesn’t hurt; it’s nice when you’re “bombed” like that. And the sufferer hit him on the ass with a stick from a terrible insult. It was blown away by the explosion, but the boy turned out to be meticulous. It’s not enough for him that under mysterious circumstances, in the middle of the night, he received a poke in the rear. It would have been enough for someone else. And this one, apparently, is a grandmother scary tales didn't tell. He flew off the “pot” - he flew off, but foolishly decided to look at who was “slapping” him on the butt, and the first one shone a flashlight on himself, and growled into the bargain. The military ghost is shitty.
We, present during the story, shook with laughter for another ten minutes. As you imagine the picture, the “ha-ha” twists. But the person who stutters is in shock. The regimental duty officer must be reported about the emergency. I didn’t see the officer’s face when I clarified the situation to him over the phone. He only demanded that I come to the report in person, accompanied by everyone characters. There I was already silent. The story was told by the "tolerated" - the orderly. First person. For an encore. The entire regimental outfit gathered. Those on duty in companies, in parks, in the canteen. The chief of guard listened to the “speech” on the phone. My little soldier felt the glory of Zhvanetsky. After each of his phrases, the people lay down. By that time, the second vaudeville participant had recovered enough to speak, but he stuttered badly. The regimental duty officer ordered to send him to the infirmary, give him 100 grams of alcohol, a sleeping pill and until the morning.
This is how legends are born. For a week I was pestered with requests to tell everything again. Then it slowly calmed down. The guy stuttered for a couple of months. And while I was serving, the nickname “sniper” stuck to him. He shoots as best he can.
Soldiers' tales are an invariable attribute of Russian folklore. It just so happened that our army fought, as a rule, not “thanks to”, but “in spite of”. Some stories from the front make us open our mouths, others cry out “come on!?”, but all of them, without exception, make us proud of our soldiers. Miraculous rescues, ingenuity and just luck are on our list.
With an ax on a tank
If the expression “field kitchen” only makes you increase your appetite, then you are not familiar with the story of the Red Army soldier Ivan Sereda.
In August 1941, his unit was stationed near Daugavpils, and Ivan himself was preparing lunch for the soldiers. Hearing the characteristic clang of metal, he looked into the nearest grove and saw a German tank driving towards him. At that moment he only had an unloaded rifle and an ax with him, but Russian soldiers are also strong in their ingenuity. Hiding behind a tree, Sereda waited for the tank with the Germans to notice the kitchen and stop, and that’s what happened.
The Wehrmacht soldiers climbed out of the formidable vehicle, and at that moment the Soviet cook jumped out of his hiding place, waving an ax and a rifle. The frightened Germans jumped back into the tank, expecting, at a minimum, an attack by an entire company, and Ivan did not try to dissuade them from this. He jumped on the car and began to hit its roof with the butt of an ax, but when the taken aback Germans came to their senses and began to shoot at him with a machine gun, he simply bent its barrel with several blows of the same ax. Feeling that the psychological advantage was on his side, Sereda began shouting orders to the non-existent reinforcements of the Red Army. This was the last straw: a minute later the enemies surrendered and, at carbine point, set off towards the Soviet soldiers.
Woke up the Russian bear
KV-1 tanks - pride Soviet army the first stages of the war - had the unpleasant property of stalling on arable land and other soft soils. One such KV was unlucky to get stuck during the retreat of 1941, and the crew, loyal to their cause, did not dare to abandon the vehicle.
An hour passed and German tanks approached. Their guns could only scratch the armor of the “sleeping” giant, and having unsuccessfully shot all the ammunition at it, the Germans decided to tow the “Klim Voroshilov” to their unit. The cables were secured, and two Pz IIIs moved the KV from its place with great difficulty.
The Soviet crew was not going to give up, when suddenly the tank’s engine started up, grunting with displeasure. Without thinking twice, the towed vehicle itself became a tractor and easily pulled two German tanks towards the Red Army positions. The puzzled crew of the Panzerwaffe was forced to flee, but the vehicles themselves were successfully delivered by the KV-1 to the very front line.
Correct bees
The battles near Smolensk at the beginning of the war claimed thousands of lives. But more amazing story one of the soldiers about the "buzzing defenders".
Constant air raids on the city forced the Red Army to change their positions and retreat back several times a day. One exhausted platoon found itself not far from the village. There, the battered soldiers were greeted with honey, fortunately the apiaries had not yet been destroyed by airstrikes.
Several hours passed, and enemy infantry entered the village. The enemy forces outnumbered the Red Army forces several times and the latter retreated towards the forest. But they could no longer save themselves, they had no strength, and the harsh German speech could be heard very close by. Then one of the soldiers began to turn over the hives. Soon a whole buzzing clump of angry bees was circling over the field, and as soon as the Germans came a little closer to them, a giant swarm found its victim. The enemy infantry screamed and rolled across the meadow, but could not do anything. So the bees reliably covered the retreat of the Russian platoon.
From the other world
At the beginning of the war, fighter and bomber regiments were separated and often the latter flew on missions without air protection. It was the same on Leningrad Front, where the legendary man Vladimir Murzaev served. During one of these deadly missions, a dozen Messerschmitts landed on the tail of a group of Soviet IL-2s. It was a disastrous situation: the wonderful IL was good in every way, but was not very fast, so having lost a couple of aircraft, the flight commander ordered the aircraft to be abandoned.
Murzaev was one of the last to jump, already in the air he felt a blow to the head and lost consciousness, and when he woke up, he mistook the surrounding snowy landscape for the Gardens of Eden. But he had to lose faith very quickly: in heaven there probably are no burning fragments of fuselages. It turned out that he was lying just a kilometer from his airfield. Having hobbled to the officer's dugout, Vladimir reported his return and threw a parachute onto the bench. Pale and frightened fellow soldiers looked at him: the parachute was sealed! It turns out that Murzaev was hit in the head by part of the plane's skin, and his parachute did not open. The fall from 3500 meters was softened by snowdrifts and true soldier's luck.
Imperial cannons
In the winter of 1941, all forces were thrown into defending Moscow from the enemy. There were no extra reserves at all. And they were needed. For example, the Sixteenth Army, which was drained of blood by losses in the Solnechnogorsk region.
This army was not yet led by a marshal, but already by a desperate commander, Konstantin Rokossovsky. Feeling that without an extra dozen guns the defense of Solnechnogorsk would fall, he turned to Zhukov with a request for help. Zhukov refused - all forces were involved. Then the tireless Lieutenant General Rokossovsky sent a request to Stalin himself. The expected, but no less sad, answer came immediately - there was no reserve. True, Joseph Vissarionovich mentioned that there may be several dozen mothballed guns that took part back in Russian-Turkish War. These guns were museum exhibits, assigned to the Dzerzhinsky Military Artillery Academy.
After several days of searching, an employee of this academy was found. An old professor, almost the same age as these guns, spoke about the conservation site of howitzers in the Moscow region. Thus, the front received several dozen ancient cannons, which did not play last role in the defense of the capital.
