On the last autumn I was hitchhiking from Potsdam to Venetcia. The police car came to me with the usual shit – forbidden... blah-blah-blah...
Both of policemen were dirty, in uniform shirts, buttoned only on one button, the buckles of their belts were on the level of their pelvises, the trouser legs were sweeping the ground, collecting all shit on themselves, and the angles oh their shirts were hanging above their pants like strips of torn mini-skirts of drunken prostitutes...
POTSDAM!!! The legendary residence of German highest nobility!!!
Now it is seen, who are princes and who are plebs.
If I would see a soldier in a such ugly form in my platoon, I would order to shoot him and his sergeant in front of all other warriors. For the betrayal of the Motherland. For the discreditation the Army of the USSR.
You know – on a war a commander does not bother about human and civil rights. He has a right to sentence a traitor to death. Or just to shoot him by himself.
Prince Rasul Yagudin