On August 15, in the Patriot park near Moscow, Russian President Vladimir Putin opened the military-technical forum Army-2022 and the international army games. The Supreme Commander-in-Chief intended to study promising military developments on the spot, and the special correspondent of Kommersant Andrey Kolesnikov – many others, including the products of the Federal Penitentiary Service for the Chelyabinsk region, that is, the bust of Vladimir Putin directly, turned out to be not the biggest attraction.
The Army-2022 forum is located on a vast territory, completely eclipsing, for example, the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum (SPIEF) in terms of the number of stands. The same goes for the level of organization.
And this work should be recognized as titanic. Suffice it to say that the entrances to the park where the event took place are 6–8 km apart. And on this day they were not empty, as was the gigantic parking lot, as far as the eyes might see.
With one of its edges, it was closest to the first pavilion in a row, and the main struggle was going on for it. Here, like a vacuum cleaner, a huge number of cars were drawn in, which had nowhere to go, primarily from each other, but they understood this, of course, only when they were nose to nose on tiny patches of melting asphalt: the military, editors-in-chief, ambassadors, the military, once more the military .. Each car had its own parking lot, everything was scheduled in advance, but everyone here was smarter than the others and there were no fools to fall into the trap of their own passes, parking where there are plenty of places. They fought not on service weapons and not even on nerves, but on drivers. It was not a pity to throw them into this human and auto meat grinder.
Vladimir Putin was supposed to appear on the central square at 15:00, and everyone understood that this would not happen, simply because. And so it happened: he appeared earlier.
Before that, representatives of 32 countries participating in the forum solemnly left. Under the national flags were representatives of the CIS countries, Palestine (well, not Israel), Syria (“They are distinguished by their special coherence!” – the announcer commented on the entire training ground), Myanmar (“Let our wishes inspire them, ready to challenge fate!”), Kingdoms Eswatini (“We wish you good luck in sports!” the announcer rumbled, and it was clear: following all, they had nothing else to count on), Mali, Bolivia, Nicaragua …
Well, there were no random people and countries here, admittedly. Only their own.
“Today, in the course of a special military operation,” the Supreme Commander noted, “our soldiers, together with the fighters of Donbass, are honorably fulfilling their duty, fighting for Russia, for peaceful life in the Donetsk and Luhansk People’s Republics, clearly fulfilling all the tasks set, step by step, liberating land of Donbass.
He emphasized this “step by step” in his voice, making it clear that no one is in a hurry, but goes on and on — so that it is clear to those who understand, and those who do not understand will understand.
“This year, within the framework of the forum, regarding 1,500 domestic defense industry organizations will present more than 28,000 modern samples of military and dual-use products,” Mr. Putin continued. “The possibilities of using Russian weapons and equipment will be shown here, in the Moscow region, at Kubinka and Alabino, as well as at the training grounds of all military districts and the Northern Fleet!
I thought that it would be possible to spend demonstrative ammunition more economically, although not immediately for its intended purpose …
Having finished his speech, the Supreme Commander was in no hurry to leave. The music played, the words sounded:
We are the defenders of our Motherland,
Patriots of a great country!
And it doesn’t matter, a soldier or a marshal,
Everyone is true to their oath before the battle!
Vladimir Putin stood with his hand on the podium, and it looked like he was going to listen to the song to the end. He liked the song. It contained words regarding patriots, an oath, and most importantly, regarding a great country.
In the end, Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu approached him and took him off the stage. Vladimir Putin left reluctantly.
But he was still waiting for the study of promising developments. And they prepared for it. And rolled out what was and was not. But Mr. Putin for some reason did not begin to consider all this. Everyone was surprised.
And they might have listened to the song.
And I decided to examine the contents of the four huge pavilions. And I wanted not to miss the Iranian stand, but somehow I didn’t come across it. And then I asked Rossiana Markovskaya, the press secretary of the Minister of Defense, who was passing by, if she had seen something like that here.
“No,” she shrugged nonchalantly, “but here’s what I’ll advise you. Follow these people and come wherever you want.
“But why following them, and not following you?” I barely had time to ask, already involuntarily reaching for a group of people in uniform and not having time to get an answer from the Russians.
However, it soon became clear why it was better in this case to follow them: in this human whirlpool, in comparison with which the SPIEF central corridor on the day of the plenary session seemed like a deserted passage yard, only these people might lead me to my destination, right in the heart of stand. It was the Iranian military.
Although, by the amount of everything so bright green in their clothes, they might be confused with some kind of militant environmentalists.
Of course, here everyone was interested in drones. But, apparently, these were not those drones. Those that the Iranians are supposed to supply to Russia are called Shahed-191 and Shahed-129, but there were none. There was one here, obviously unnatural in size, but still a strike type, called Karar-3, and another one, reconnaissance.
There was no one near the drones, so I approached a young man who was standing near two large bombs. But even more important was the fact that the young Iranian, as it turned out, knew Russian.
Are these bombs for drones? I asked him directly.
– Of course! He answered with genuine joy.
He rejoiced, probably, at how correctly I understand everything.
– Do I understand correctly that the drones that Tehran wants to supply to Moscow are not here? I scouted.
The young man preferred to translate this question to some middle-aged man who approached us. He thought for a long time and seemed to be looking for someone even more middle-aged to double-check his answer, but then he ventured to scout himself in turn:
– Where are you from?
I explained, and then he decided to go further:
— Do you think Iran wants to supply drones to Moscow?
I told him that he was doing well, and I also went further: there was still something to see.
I understood that a huge amount of full-fledged military equipment was hung and placed here. New self-propelled artillery mount; an apparatus capable of throwing known petal-mines over great distances; new sights, anti-aircraft missile systems… Everything was there.
But for some reason, I almost immediately stumbled upon the miracle of import substitution (as it was announced) – steel toilet bowls manufactured by the NTC Kurs.
“Listen,” Alexander Lavrov, the chief designer of Kurs, drew my attention, “just listen! Amazing toilet system! Can be installed on a train, plane, ship! Requires small pipe diameter! After all, we are used to a 100 mm pipe, but here it is only 50!
— Is that enough? I asked doubtfully.
— Permeability, believe me, does not suffer! he exclaimed. “Otherwise, our systems would no longer be on tens of thousands of trains!”
I anxiously thought that maybe it was she who was suffering (if installed on tens of thousands). I’m not talking regarding passengers.
– Do not doubt! – Alexander Lavrov assured me. – Our facilities are located on many federal highways! On the Red Square!
I didn’t notice, I casually thought.
– And who can you press now? Replace?
– Everyone! he exclaimed. “Jets, Norway… Zodiac, USA…”
– Are they on Boeing? I understood.
And on Airbus! he confirmed triumphantly.
Well, this is another matter.
“The market,” he said, “is opening crazy, just crazy!” So much so that it is even scary to think!
I wanted to advise him not to think.
— We are going to equip a polar bus with our system! – rushed following me when I was already departing. – The term of habitation in the bus is three days! And our system will work no less! After all, habitability implies a positive temperature!
And that no one will get out of the polar bus according to his own needs.
Suddenly, I saw the stand of Voentorg, which sold all kinds of Chistaya Liniya ice cream, and this was already an obvious alternative to Korovka from Korenovka at MAKS. Nobody here wanted to be like anyone else. But also different.
At the stand of the PRC, the products began, as it seemed to me (maybe just out of fear), with a missile frigate with a displacement of 4 thousand tons (thank God, on the TV screen).
And the drones, suspended on threads from the ceiling, flew at me, such an impression, from all sides like a swarm of bees.
Here, at the stand of the People’s Republic of China, a strange optimism reigned for some reason. The Chinese all the time laughed out loud, even laughed – it was so good for them.
At the next stand, cadets of the Orenburg Cadet School demonstrated their products – handmade chess. I was most impressed by crafts made from cartridges – very intelligibly.
The cadets told me the story of one board, painted with different color pictures, with particular pleasure. The Department of Physics, Chemistry and Biology gave them this board. And then the master of simultaneous play came to them and asked the boy why he was alone at the board (two played once morest the master). The boy was not taken aback and said:
Because no one wants to play for the USA!
The fact is that on his side of the board the Department of Physics, Chemistry and Biology drew the Capitol and the White House, and it is very similar. So the boy glorified his board and himself too. Yes, he had nothing to reproach himself for.
But now I finally got to the main exhibits. The stand of the Federal Penitentiary Service for the Moscow Region offered its products to the military. Prisoners sew uniforms. From and to.
“From cutting to delivery of products,” they explained to me at the stand. “But you need to get a vocational education. The seamstress course is two and a half months, and the full course lasts ten months. They have nowhere to hurry. But most importantly, a person comes out fully prepared.
– Is it coming out? I doubted.
“Not in that sense, of course,” two men in non-military uniforms reassured me. “In that sense, it remains.
The men recommended that I move on to the next booth. It was the stand of the Federal Penitentiary Service for the Chelyabinsk region.
And then the eyes widened. Here the prisoners made busts of the leaders. Lenin, Stalin, Beria… Putin…
Prisoners cast a bust of the Supreme Commander-in-Chief. And I saw the result with my own eyes. The leadership of the colony traded these busts. Yes, life is always grander than anything you can think of regarding it.
“Well, what,” Alexander Mukhortov, who presented the products, shrugged his shoulders, “first a 3D model is made on a computer, then it is cut out of wood, an impression is made, into which metal is poured … Nothing like that! ..
– But Stalin, all black, costs 12 thousand rubles, and Putin, gilded, also 12 thousand. Why is it the same? I asked.
“Yes,” admitted Alexander Mukhortov, “strange. Both are made of cast iron-aluminum alloy, but Putin is also gold-plated. We’ll figure out.
– But Chapaev! — I found. — 25 thousand!
– Well, you compared! Alexander Mukhortov shook his head.
– So what? I asked.
– It’s bronze! he told me.
I glanced around at the stand. They looked sad to me. Not exactly gloomy, but sad. Even Chapai had a sadness in his eyes. I thought that not very funny people made them, maybe that’s why they came out like that. Share your doubts.
– But there is Suvorov! – suggested Alexander Mukhortov to me. – It seems more cheerful than others … True, maybe not very similar …
“Yes, it looks more like Chekhov …” I admitted. “Moreover, it looks like a young one …
“I don’t know…” Alexander Mukhortov sighed.
And I didn’t want to be right. I just wanted to go to Moscow.
To Moscow! To Moscow!
