The Most Russian Person. Владимир Шатакишвили

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specialists, engineers and technicians from Ivanovo, Samara, Kurgan, Moscow, Omsk, Sverdlovsk, Chelyabinsk (not classified!), Leningrad. In short, the team became knowledgeable.

      And the economy grew and grew. Freight and passenger cars, buses, maintenance vehicles, warmed repair shops which were no longer afraid of a snowstorm, blizzard or snow drifts, although no one “canceled” them and they didn’t ask anyone permission for their winter outrage.

      I also took care of the friendship with the paramilitary teams of firefighters: all their equipment was on the balance of my economy.

      So Kurchatov who gave the word to help us, transport workers, and Muzrukov kept their word.”

      Oh, neither tail, nor scales!

      MEDYANIK unexpectedly changes the topic for me, “People have invented a monstrous weapon – the nuclear bomb. And the meaning of life is not in the good, but in life itself. People are becoming increasingly aware that the most important thing in life is life. And, having lost touch with it, they look for nature. They go hunting, fishing, seek privacy and peace of mind.”

      “At our last meeting, we made a deal that you would tell me a couple of episodes about how you spent your free time in the Urals. Take fishing, for example, when having a rest, a person understands that life for him lies in a different plane, not in the one where the very question of “meaning” is possible. He asks himself what the difference is between a man and a beast? Only the beast doesn’t know any duty or thoughts about the good and the meaning of life.”

      “Yes, there was such an agreement. I feel real pleasure to be alone with nature.”

      “Let's start with that memorable fishing. I am sure that the reader will be eager to know about it.”

      “Well, it was not really fishing. The drivers organized the recreation center on lake Beldym. They set up several tents, built a small pier out of wood, got a couple of boats somewhere. Since they worked in shifts, those who were given time to rest had the opportunity to go fishing. They cooked fish soup, grilled fish on coals, relaxed. In addition to a few tents, they built two solid sheds where they assembled at improvised common dining table and under another arranged bunk beds for rest. On the floor there was a large carpet of unknown origin. In any case, everything looked impressively enough for that time. With the years this base was rebuilt, and it really acquired the look that corresponds to the name of “summer camp”.

      But then, in the late forties, it was much more modest. One day, the head of the first car fleet, Aleksey Fyodorovich Posheev, said to me, “Ivan Nikiforovich, do you want to try a real triple fish soup?”

      “Where is it?”

      “I have got such a place.”

      We got into his car and arrived at a picturesque corner on the lake. The drivers, knowing that their boss had gone to invite me, had already cooked it by our arrival, thanks everything was all right with the fish at that time. We sat for a while, tasted some soup and drank a shot of cognac. I really liked it there and suggested inviting the management. Posheev was embarrassed, was it convenient?

      “Not at all, it is convenient. I’ll talk to someone from the management and let you know.”

      On the same day I drove to Lieutenant-General Tkachenko, my front-line comrade, “Ivan Maksimovich, why do not we go to try a triple fish soup.”

      Being a true Ukrainian he asks, “Where?”

      “There and there.”

      He picks up the phone and calls Boris Glebovich, “Here’s the “Small” (the front commander called me this way during the war) invites to the triple fish soup, how do you find it? His lads arranged a recreation center somewhere on the lake and we are invited.”

      Muzrukov agreed and made the list of participants. A couple of days later, having warned Posheev beforehand, they took three passenger cars and headed to that lake Beldym.

      Here, I think, it would be appropriate to explain what kind of thing was a triple fish soup. Usually, the fish soup is made from several varieties of fish, primarily freshwater ones: ruffs, minnows, perch, burbot, sterlet, whitefish and others. Each fish belonging to one or another species has certain inherent qualities. So ruff, perch and carp give stickiness, richness and taste, gudgeon, burbot, whitefish and sterlet give tenderness and special sweetness. To make the soup come out rich small fish is added at the very beginning and is boiled for about two hours until it is completely cooked and turns into a porridge, and then it is filtered and cooled.

      Then pieces of larger fish are added to a cooled broth, and again it is boiled for a long time. Only at the third time, the most valuable types of fish are cut (in our case, whitefish, sterlet and burbot) and cooked at low fire until it is ready.

      The membership of our delegation was more than impressive: I. V. Kurchatov, B. G. Muzrukov, I. M. Tkachenko, Y. B. Khariton, E. P. Slavsky, A. A. Alexandrov, I. N. Medyanik. Suffice to say that four of the seven who came – Kurchatov, Khariton, Slavsky, Alexandrov – later became three times Heroes of Socialist Labor, Muzrukov – twice Hero, only Tkachenko and I were without stars. In any case, seven had fourteen Stars of Heroes, an average of two each, a joke, of course, though a pleasant one. Being warned in advance about the visit of the high management, the drivers did their best and laid a fabulous table. In addition to the amazingly tasty fish soup there were also sterlet and burbot fried on coals, something from vegetables and, of course, lard. We drank three glasses of Armenian brandy and having eaten tight walked to the next shed and seeing the carpet some of the guests wanted to lie down and rest. So they did, some rested, some sailed on a boat and some swam in the lake. A couple of hours later, we sat down at the table again, drank one more glass and cheerful, rested, smiling left this wonderful place, giving the word to the hospitable drivers to visit the place in future. And Muzrukov promised, if possible, of course, to allocate funds for the construction of a modern recreation center, and he kept his word later.

      I often happened to be there with guests, because we were visited by a lot of the capital's authorities and major world-famous scientists. We sometimes came to ease stressful situations. Posheev, as the owner, always joked in such cases, “Shall we eat sitting or lying down?” It meant under which shed the table had to be laid. And on that day, despite it was day-off, everyone went to work. By the way, the working day of the management team lasted until one in the morning.

      “Well, who do you want to hear about? After all, it is impossible to tell about everybody.”

      “Perhaps, about Slavsky.”

      “Efim Pavlovich was, perhaps, the only one whom I can safely call, one of the few of my friends. In addition to work, we had passion for hunting. All the years of joint service at “Mayak” we were neighbors, our cottages stood nearby just like the houses of Muzrukov, Kurchatov, Tkachenko. For almost thirty years he was in charge of the Ministry of Medium Machine Building, three times awarded the title Hero of Socialist Labor, winner of the Lenin and State Prize. Perhaps, sometimes, I even misused my relationship with the minister, because for many years after “Mayak” I was trying to get, to search for something and solve problems with the help of his ministry. In fairness, I will say that I never received a refusal from him to my requests and appeals.”

      Here is his life story: chief engineer, director of the base. He got to the Urals during the war where the Zaporozhye aluminum plant was evacuated and there, in Kamensk-Uralsk, he quickly rebuilt it. A great specialist, knowledgeable, authoritative.

      He started at the time serving in the First Horse division of Budyonnyi, was a straight man, sometimes unrestrained, even rude. Liked four-letter words. Muzrukov had to “correct” the

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