“We called him Larik,” continued the sergeant. – Larik’s jump count was, to be honest, about three thousand for sure. He loved to show off in front of us newbies. During the jumps he demonstrated such a thing. He opened the parachute and cut the lines, then opened the “reserve” and landed safely in front of us in all its glory. I still remember that day, and so do the others who served then. And Catfish won’t let you lie. The day turned out to be a great one. Summer is in full swing. Warm. Chamomiles are blooming. We jumped. We're flying. We dangle under the domes. We look around so that, God forbid, there are no convergences. Larik somersaults behind us. Using a knife, scratch along the slings. He overtook us in a protracted situation. Then he began to open the spare one, but it was unsuccessful. There wasn't enough time..."