You people just need
to find a 5.6 caliber shell.
Can you really help me
learn to fly?
I won't teach you myself, but I can
help you enter the school. Sit down.
We'll get everything done right now.
Write a request.
"I, your name,
born in 1927...
Are you a Young Communist?
Yes, I was admitted last year.
Should I write my Russian
family name? Popov?
Write Popov.
Yakov Illarionovitch!
They found three, but they're old.
Lying there a few years already.
Keep searching.
"I request that you admit me
to pilot's school
in order to become
a loyal falcon of Stalin
and destroy the cursed fascists."
Date and signature.
Give it to me.
Same exact mistake.
And the handwriting is the same.
I thought it was you
who wrote the denunciations.
It was you, Vasya, who informed
on Commander Yurchenko.
About his conflict
with Lieutenant Turovsky.
Also known as "Ace".
So, tell me everything in detail
or you won't be flying.
You'll be felling trees
in the swamps.
And you won't see your relatives
for a long time.
What happened between Lieutenant
Turovsky and the commander?
It looks like
there was combat here.
So many used shells and not one
that we're looking for.
Let me dismiss my men, alright?
There's the transit.
We need to prepare the planes.
The men need to rest.
It's not my decision. Here comes
my chief. He'll decide
if your men are needed or not.
- You didn't find them?
- Nothing.
We even checked out to
two hundred and fifty meters.
The Capitain requests
to dismiss his security platoon.
Of course, let them go. Why torment
the men looking for a needle?
And what will this shell tell us?
Nonsense.
The residential population has
a few dozen Winchester rifles.
Sergei Mikhailovitch.
Stay here for a talk, please.
It won't take much time.
Why are you standing there,
Vasily? Go about your business.
He's a good guy.
He dreams of flying.
Don't write any more requests
to go to the Front.
We need you here.
I don't understand you.
You've found shelter, like a cat,
by the side of a pretty woman.
Anyone else would be happy,
but you want to go to the Front.
What, is Irina Vladimirovna
that bad?
How dare you, First Lieutenant?
I am a First Lieutenant
in Internal Affairs.
I hope you understand.
God, how everything's
all tangled up here.
You idiot.
You think it's me?
You had the strongest motive
to make an attempt on his life.
But it's stupid.
You're impulsive, as I confirmed,
but are you that impulsive?
Well, maybe for a loved one?
Leave Irina out of this.
She's got nothing to do with it.
I'll decide who has nothing
to do with it.
You looking for a scapegoat?
Go to hell. I killed him, if that's
what you want!
That's enough, Chernikh.
Sergei Mikhailovitch
understood everything.
Very well, Capitain.
I don't think it's you.
You know why?
You're a lousy shot.
Comrade First Lieutenant!
May I address you?
Go ahead.
I'm responsible for meteorological
services and secretary for the Party unit.
How can I help you? I'm not
a specialist in those areas.
The Party meeting report
has a mistake about Tarasik.
I already sent it off.
It's not Citizen Tarasik,
but a pig - Tarasik.
What pig?
A suckling-pig, Tarasik.
We couldn't feed him.
Pigs need to eat four kilos
of feed to gain one kilo.
They keep eating more and more.
You go to hell with your pig!
Like I need to feed their pig.
They've grown totally insolent from
idleness. Feed it yourself, you idiot.
It's a collection of cretins here.
That's no surprise. The best
minds are at the Front.
Here there are just
invalids and whackos.
Wonderful dumplings.
Tastes like the dushpara
we ate in Persia, remember?
Would you like some more?
Okay. You know, it wouldn't
hurt to have a little...
Valentina Fedorovna.
Well, to the conclusion
of an assignment.
What swill they supply you with.
If it hadn't been cold, I wouldn't
have been able to get it down.
Foma Ilyitch demanded
that it be cold.
Your Foma