AWOL

— "Granit 66", this is "Zarya 67". Post under observation, — I reported, pressing the radio button.

— "Zarya 67", roger, — hissed from the speaker.

I set off along the familiar path to pace out the line of combat vehicles. Finally, spring had truly arrived. The chestnuts had blossomed, and the warm May night was saturated with their sweet scent. Spring! My last spring here. In six months, demob. I even dreamed sometimes of climbing onto the top bunk of a train carriage and the steady clatter of wheels carrying, carrying me to my homeland. But would I miss the service? I scuffed my boot toe, turning on the spot to head back. In

two hours I walked this route eight times. In winter, more, of course, because you had to walk faster to avoid freezing stiff in the piercing wind. But now, guard duty was even a pleasure. Spring! And a warm, calm night.

— Hey, soldier boy! — a ringing little voice sounded behind my back, accompanied by female laughter.

Right. I'd already been warned about this. I didn't even turn around, realizing it was them. About a week ago, two young girls had started coming to the unit's fence. Hard to say what they wanted, most likely just spring fever. A desire to tease young male bodies. They stood by the gates, drank beer, said vulgar things to the sentries, showed their tits. They hadn't crossed my shift yet, but word had already spread through the guard companies.

— Where are you going? Come to us! — languid voices shouted behind my back.

— He's probably deaf… — and again, unified laughter.

I decided not to react. They'd stand around and leave. Of course, according to regulations, I should have shouted: "Halt, go back!", "Halt, I'll shoot!". But somehow that seemed ridiculous in this situation. And I was sick to death of those regulations. Reaching the end of the line, I turned to face the gates.

— "Granit66", this is "Zarya67", All quiet, — I made my next report.

— "Zarya67", roger, — Deryabin's sleepy voice came from the speaker. The guard commander was probably asleep again.

Now I was walking towards them. In the bright spotlight light, on the sidewalk on the other side of the park's high gates, stood two female figures. "Damn, they're hot, the bitches," I thought, getting closer. Two young brunettes. Both in short miniskirts, fully revealing slender thighs, light summer tops, and bright makeup. Beer bottles in hand. Looked like prostitutes. But what are you doing here, girls? You won't get any money.

— Look how stern he is, — one of the girls said with a smile as I approached them, — a real Rambo. We haven't tried this one yet.

— Ever seen something like this? — asked the second, hiking her top up, exposing a full breast. I slowed my step from surprise. My mouth went dry instantly, and my dick jumped to attention, pressing like a stone against the plates of my bulletproof vest.

— Come here, I'll let you touch, — the brunette continued to tease, — want some beer?

I walked right up to the fence, unable to tear my gaze from the female charms. The girl's figure was like from a magazine cover. Swallowing saliva, I turned my back to them.

— Where are you going? Don't you want us? — the stranger continued to egg me on.

— Look, look. The poor guy's limping! — the second one chimed in. And the girls laughed, watching my attempts to adjust the standing dick under my pants belt. What bitches! Loosening my belt, I comfortably settled my friend in my pants and continued my walk along the line. Soon it was time to turn and face the gates again. Now my jaw just dropped. Two naked white asses were looking at me. The crazy girls were on all fours, having taken off their skirts along with their panties, and, spreading their buttocks with their hands, were showing me their charms.

— Want it? Come to us! — two pairs of sly eyes looked at me from under slender legs. I even saw stars from desire. I was ready to howl at the moon, which now also seemed to me like a naked female ass. The girls continued to flirt, swaying their hips in front of me.

— Well, come on faster! — one moaned invitingly. The one on the left suddenly ran a finger between her legs and licked it with relish. What fools. I unclipped the magazine from my rifle and loudly, demonstratively, racked the bolt.

— I'll shoot! — I wanted to shout, but the shout came out hoarse and strained. The temptresses, nevertheless, recoiled from the fence and straightened up, pulling up their panties.

— Ooh, ooh, scared us! Take off your pants and show us what you're going to shoot with? Big caliber?

— "Zarya67", this is "Granit65"! — the radio on my chest suddenly roared loudly, — "come in!"

I turned away from the fence and pressed the button.

— "Granit65", this is "Zarya67", receiving.

— Did you fall asleep on your dick or what? Why aren't you reporting? — the duty officer had woken up. Now he'll pester me.

— "Granit65", this is "Zarya67". Object is quiet, — I rasped, hastily moving away from the fence so female laughter wouldn't accidentally get into the radio.

— Report on time! Over! — the duty officer grunted.

— Hey, Zarya, where are you running? — the girls were having fun, — Come to us. We haven't shown everything yet. They teased me practically the entire two hours of my shift, either putting on a fake blowjob show with a beer bottle, or rubbing their breasts against each other, or moaning loudly. So I had a raging hard-on when I saw a flashlight beam on the opposite path. And three dark figures. Finally.

— Halt, who goes there! — I shouted loudly, hastily clipping the rifle magazine back on.

— Guard commander! — came from the darkness.

— Guard commander to me, others stay put! Illuminate your face! — How I loved the regulations at these moments, allowing me to at least sometimes give orders to our asshole captain. I glanced at the fence in passing. The girls had moved aside and were standing quietly by a white Lada parked nearby.

Timokha was relieving me — my good friend. We were from different cities, even from different regions of our vast country. Moreover, Tim was from a big city, and I grew up in a village near a small regional center. All these circumstances, however, didn't stop us from quickly becoming friends back in basic training. Then we ended up in the same company and even the same platoon. Two of us from the platoon were also taken into the guard. We were inseparable. His name was actually Timofey, but in the company he immediately became just "Tim". Walking briskly along the line, we checked the integrity of all the seals on the tank hangar gates.

— Look over there… — I said quietly, nodding my head towards the other side of the fence for Timofey, — those ones…

— Seriously? — he whispered admiringly as we returned to the post, — And what are they like? What do they say?

— They don't say much. Mostly show. You'll see for yourself.

Our guard detail left along the dark path to the guardhouse, and Tim remained at the post, gazing longingly at the dark figures of the girls by the car.

The hard-on didn't leave me for a long time. Taking off my bulletproof vest and placing my rifle in the rack, I drank hot tea and sat down in a chair with a military magazine, but before my eyes, as if in reality, two naked cute asses still stood.

— We can't just leave it like this! — an angry Tim said to me, returning from the post, — I won't rest now until I fuck at least one.

— Yeah. You'll fuck her, — I replied, — only in six months.

— I won't last six months.

— Well, what can you do… — I loosened my belt and headed to the sleeping quarters. Back on post in two hours.

— Are we handing over the guard to the second battalion today? — Tim suddenly asked businesslike.

— I think so.

— Then go get some sleep. Possibly, the next night will be sleepless again.

— What are you talking about?

— Go, go… I'll tell you later.

Taking off my boots, I lay down on the hard couch and immediately fell into sleep. By my next guard shift, the girls were no longer by the gates. The white Lada was gone too.

In the evening, after handing over the guard, we returned to the barracks.

— Wait. Let's have a smoke, — Tim stopped me at the door.

— Sure, — I agreed, taking out a pack of "Saint George".

We went to the smoking area, automatically saluting some new lieutenant from the first company.

— So here's the thing, — Timokha began, — today "Toad" is on duty at headquarters, and tomorrow is Sunday, — he paused meaningfully, — so the stars are favorable to us. Got it?

Tim winked slyly at me, but I still didn't get it. We called the deputy commander for personnel of the brigade, Lieutenant Colonel Zhabinsky, "Toad". God marks the rogue. His surname suited his appearance perfectly. Big, fat, with cheeks hanging down in folds and glassy eyes swollen from vodka, he most resembled that nasty amphibian. Everyone in the brigade knew that if Toad was on duty, a calm night was ahead. At least for the duty units. Because Zhabinsky never organized "wars" and "fires", never checked the readiness of the rapid response group or the proper performance of guard duty. He didn't chase officers around the units at night checking for hazing or unauthorized absence of soldiers. Zhabinsky, when going on duty, drank a glass of vodka and slept peacefully at headquarters, not particularly exerting himself. But what do the stars have to do with it?

— What are you even talking about? — I asked, taking a drag.

— About this, Private, that it would be nice to take a walk on the other side of the fence tonight.

Now I understood. That's what he had in mind. Indeed, with Zhabinsky, you didn't have to worry about our absence being noticed. There was also no risk of accidentally running into the rapid response group, as no alarm would be declared. Besides, tomorrow was a day off and all officers not on duty would scatter wherever today. Tim looked at me slyly.

— I'm sleepy, actually, — I said, throwing the butt into the ashtray.

— That's why you're still a private! — Tim replied instructively. He himself held the rank of junior sergeant, — You'll sleep enough as a civilian. Consider this an order from a senior in rank.

After washing up, I shuffled to the squad room and wearily plopped onto the creaky bed. The recruits were sitting on the bunk beds, intently sewing on white collar liners.

— Hey, — I poked the fat guy from my platoon, — sew on the tunic collar and lay it out properly.

— Yes, sir, — the recruit mumbled.

I didn't even hear the usual "Company, lights out!", falling asleep instantly. I dreamed of my native village. The river flowing near the house and the old rotten bridge from which we boys loved to jump into the icy water. And the big-assed neighbor Lyudka, with whom I was once in love.

— Get up, Private, — someone suddenly jerked my shoulder hard. I jumped up sharply, waking up already in a vertical position. My head was heavy as cast iron.

— Get dressed faster! Great deeds await us! — Tim threw my tunic and belt at me.

— Daaamn, are you serious?

— Come on, come on, faster!

Getting dressed, we walked along the dimly lit squad room. It was just past midnight. A thin strip of light escaped from under the supply room door. Tim banged on it with his fist.

A minute later, the door quietly opened a crack, and the frightened face of the supply clerk — Corporal Sablin — peeked out.

— Oh, it's you, Den — he said, making out my face, — I thought… Can't sleep?

— Listen, Fedyunya. Lend us two pairs of sneakers for a bit, — Tim asked from behind my shoulder.

— Where are you off to? — Sablin's sly little eyes narrowed suspiciously.

— Where we need to. Give us the sneakers.

— Will you bring vodka?

— We'll bring it. Just hurry up.

Pulling light civilian sneakers onto our feet, we approached the orderly.

— So, recruit, nobody went anywhere, clear? And you didn't see us, — Tim instructed, — Is the lieutenant gone?

— Yes, — the orderly nodded affirmatively.

— Then open the door.

I cautiously peeked out of the barracks door. It was quiet and deserted. Of course, the entire unit area was flooded with the bright light of spotlights and lamps, and there were video cameras on the mess hall building, the signal from which went to the brigade duty officer's monitors. But Zhabinsky was surely already asleep, his cheeks spread out on the desk. After all, nothing ventured… We quickly ran to the corner of the mess hall and further along the darkened alley to the utility block. Here was a long-known gap in the barbed wire running over the concrete fence. Carefully, trying not to cut our hands, we unhooked the coil of barbed wire caught on the barbs and pulled the ends apart.

— Come on faster, — I whispered, boosting Tim up. He silently jumped down onto the sidewalk on the other side. Once out of the unit territory, we reconnected the wire and, trying to stay close to the fence, moved towards the combat vehicle park. The park gates were flooded with bright light. A sentry with a rifle over his shoulder was slowly pacing along the line. The girls weren't visible.

— Follow me! — Tim shouted in a muffled voice and dashed across the road towards the forest. I followed him. Hiding behind a thick tree near an empty parking lot, we watched the illuminated street from the darkness. A hundred meters ahead, the sentry approached the gate grating and carefully examined the street.

— Look! — Tim poked me in the side, — he's waiting for the girls too, the son of a bitch!

We laughed.

— They probably have a day off today, — I said, yawning, — we came for nothing.

— Well, no harm in trying, — Tim lit a cigarette, — at least we got a walk. We still need to try and buy Sablin some vodka, or he'll screw us over.

A car drove quietly down the road, tires rustling.

— Damn, Tim, you're such an adventurer! We could be sleeping peacefully.

— All you want is to sleep…

— Halt, who goes there! — a distant shout from the sentry was heard. He was being relieved. So it was already midnight.

— Let's get out of here, — Timokha spat, — we'll try another time.

And then a white Lada appeared on the