we are forty-fivers, we are also called pto, and more often gunners, the guys got close. the good ones, it’s true, sometimes fight among themselves, but all these clashes are no more than child’s play, compared to the evil that fascism brought upon our land, death lurks around us, and we don’t think about it, neither i nor they, we cannot imagine that we can die, although this is destined for all of us every second in war. now i’m going to annoy you, but come on, what is it, what is it, what is it, what is it, that you ’re cramped in the cop, explain what’s what, get up, lie down like at a resort, clean the shells, laznyak, watch, why are you one-eared, what are you doing, do you need a separate invitation, get up, well, do n’t push, don’t harness, why, why, don’t harness, rise, i say, clean the shells , order, before you have time to shake, rise, rise, and what are you doing, net, three of us will manage. listen, lukyanov, you were a hairdresser before the war, or what? no, before the war i studied architecture, but i thought i was a hairdresser, you hold the rag ver