#aks-74

redbull

I drew a less than enthusiastic VDV soldier (the blue doesnt stand out too well on the tyelnyashka; now it just looks like a Navy/Naval Infantry tyelnyashka, but I promise you I'm not that dumb) with some sort of KLMK/White Berezka/Byelyj Byeryozka top (which I don't thing the cut is very accurate for the time period; looks a bit more like SSO/SOSPN's early cuts, but who knows), a Lifchik/Poyas-A chestrig (which doesn't have the top two pouches on each side; just one), the Holy Mushroom helmet, the SSh-68, and the oh so sexy AK-74 (maybe AKS-74; he is a paratrooper after all...).

The lines didn't turn out as clean as I wanted. It's high in probability that it's due to the fact that I shaded with the pencil before coloring it all in. Big bruh.

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HOW TO WRITE A SOVIET-AFGHAN WAR SONG:

Сидя на песке; мальчик лет девяти.

На его лице была грязь и выражение резкой, резкой горечи.

Его глаза были остекленевшими,

его тело дрожало,

его сердце почернело.

Я не знаю, что ждет в красивых, красивых горах.

Я не знаю, куда эти вертолеты везут моих павших друзей.

Нет света без тьмы,

нет звезд без ночи,

нет любви без войны.

Мама всегда говорила:

«Не позволяй этому заболеть»,

но есть вещи, которые я не могу отпустить.

Я не знаю, что ждет в красивых, красивых горах.

Я не знаю, куда эти вертолеты везут моих павших друзей.

В песке холодное тело.

В песке холодное тело.

в вертолете холодное тело.

В ВЕРТОЛЕТЕ ЕСТЬ ХОЛОДНОЕ ТЕЛО. БРАТЬЯ! ВСТАВАЙ, ВСТАВАЙ! ПОЖАЛУЙСТА!

Sitting there in the sand; a boy, around nine years old.

There was dirt on his face, and an expression of sharp, sharp misery.

His eyes where glazed,

his body was shivering,

his heart was blackened.

I don't know what’s waiting in the beautiful, beautiful mountains. (Always say somethin about the mountains, or how pretty oooo pretty pretty Afghanistan is. double points if you can shove both into it)

I don’t know where these helicopters are taking my fallen friends. (Its a bit rare, but try to mention helic of some sort; extra spooky points if you mention the Black Tulip, as shown in the example)

There’s no light without dark,

there’s no stars with no night,

theres no love without war. (somewhat subtle nods to Viktor Tsoi's Pyesnya byez Slov; if you're cool you'll know)

Mother always said (s a y s o m e t h i n g a b o u t y o u r m o m)

“don’t let it get to your head”

but there are somethings that I cannot let go.

I don't know what’s waiting in the beautiful, beautiful mountains.

I don’t know where these helicopters are taking my fallen friends.

There’s a cold body in the sand.

There’s a cold body in the sand.

there’s a cold body in the helicopter.