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Misha! Misha!

Misha! Misha!

Wanna play with us?

Come on.

Let's play tag.

You're it!

Gotta run, Misha!

Hey, wait for me,

I got a better idea.

Little closer.

And fire!

Fire!

Another few yards.

Take Cover!

Fire!

Halt!
I said halt!

You're dead.

Come on!
This is our chance!

Fire!

Come on!

Faster!

Hit it!

Left,
let's get those bastards!

They won't get much farther.

Run them down!

Fire!

Roll over those
fucking bastards!

Quick! Reload!

Stop him!

Stop him!

Faster! Stop that tank!

The next shot must hit them!

Watch out!
Take cover!

Get the hell outta the way.

Or do you wanna get run over?

He has a very high fever.

Since yesterday morning.

Thank you, nurse.

I'll take a closer
look at him.

I think he's awake.

I can see that.

Well done,

soldier.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Shh, shh, shh, shh!

Slowly, slowly.

- Why don't you lay down again.
- Gaponenko?

- You have to rest now.
- My buddies, they alive?

Everything will be just fine.

I'm looking for
a lieutenant Gaponkenko!

Don't worry about that.
You need to rest now.

Water?
Can I have some water?

This coat is pre-war quality,
I'm telling you...

Stop the car here.

Excuse me, Lieutenant,

we're looking for the 12th
rifle division.

Know where we can find them?

Hell, I have got
no goddamn idea, Captain.

Everyone's on the move now.

What about you?

Anyone back there know where
the 12th rifle division is?

No idea.

Hey, Lieutenant,
take care of yourself.

Back there, still a bunch
of Krauts on the loose.

Much obliged,
Comrade Captain.

Let's go, let's go,
let's go.

Easy on the gas,
for Christ sake!

Come on, guys, and push!

Keep pushing,

keep pushing.

Hey, there's no point.

We ain't getting out
of here like this.

Son-of-a-goddamn...

How about over there?

Maybe they got a horse.

We're gonna go
check out the village.

Be right back.

What's your name?

Senior Sergeant Kalashnikov.

- First name?
- Mikhail.

You come with me.

Where's he going?

The lieutenant just wants
to take a look around.

What the hell is that about?

No idea,
just shut up and wait.

Is...

is that the new machine gun?

Yeah,

was just issued.

They wanna replace all the
old rifles with these things.

That's not a bad idea.

And in combat?
Is it reliable?

What?

The machine gun.
Is it reliable?

How the hell should I know?

They'll probably send me
to the front soon,

and then I can see
if it's reliable.

So, listen up here.

50 meters distance behind me,
got it?

And just in case...

Johann.

Johann!

Behind you!

In the shack.

Are you alive?

Yeah, more or less.

But that new gun,

isn't worth shit.

It jammed,

right when I needed it.

- Yeah, saw that.
- Big piece of shit.

Filled with water.

And when it got cold
and froze,

the bullets frigging froze up.

And the spring is...

way too weak to keep
all the bullets separated.

A goddamn
design flaw I'd say.

You know your way
around these things.

I...

like to tinker around.

A little bit, at least.

Everyone does a little bit.

And what have you made?

Lots of things.

Too many to remember.

And what was the last one?

The last one?

A footwrap dryer,
using a campfire.

Huh. A footwrap dryer?

Oh Christ...
What a load of hot air.

Stop!

To my dearest mother,

my sister,

and all my nephews
and nieces,

as well as Granny Shura.

Aunt Tatiana,

and all the neighbors
who are interested in hearing

from Senior Sergeant
Kalashnikov.

I'm writing to tell you that
my tank was hit in combat,

and my crew...

died as heroes.

Miraculously,

I survived with just
a shoulder wound.

Since then
I've been in a hospital,

receiving medical treatment.

Since my wound
is not healing well,

our doctor put me on leave
and told me to go home,

and stay there
until I make a full recovery.

That is why I'm only now

beginning my journey
back to you.

Love, Mikhail.

Any injured soldiers here?

You there, with the sling,
come over here.

What the hell?
How come he get's on, huh?

That's not fair!

Excuse me.

Got your papers?

Where are you from,
Sergeant?

Altai.

Yeah, then we're neighbors.

I'm from Kazakhstan.

I used to work there.

Small city, really pretty.
Matai.

Matai?

That was before the war.

Fucking railway depot.

But they ended up
kicking me out.

Why was that?

Well I was always making...

various things.

And my boss
didn't really care for that.

What kind of things?

Well, like crossbows,

and I made a shotgun.

Since I was a kid
it's been a passion of mine.

And now I'm thinking,

how I can...

make...

like...

an automatic.

What do you mean,
"automatic"?

An automatic machine gun.

Here, I'll show you,
I got some drawings.

Here.

Ah, they wouldn't be
kicking you out now,

for christ sake.

You know what they'd say?

"Get to work, bud,

and invent whatever the hell
your heart desires, Sergeant."

And you know what else
they'd be saying to you?

"The Motherland needs you
more than ever."

Matai!
Next stop, Matai!

Sergeant?

Where's he going?

Dear Mom,

please forgive your unruly son.

I won't be coming back
any time soon.

I decided to get off the train.

I miss you all terribly,
so much I could cry.

I know it's tough
without Dad,

but if I come home
at a time like this,

I'll lose respect for myself.

With all my love.
Yours, Mikhail.

Hey! Pull it tight.
Tighter!

Hey, where's the boss,
Andrejic?

Back there somewhere.

Hey, pay attention.

What the hell's
taking so long?

- What's your job?
- What the hell...

- Good morning, Mr Andrejic.
- Who the hell are you?

Senior Sergeant Kalashnikov,

on leave for recovery.

Kalashnikov, Kalashnikov...

The name vaguely
rings a bell.

Do I know you?

- I used to work here before the war.
- Ah.

- Fixing steam generators.
- Yeah, yeah.

Can you lift a sledgehammer?

- No but...
- Then get the hell outta here.

Why does everyone want
to waste my goddamn time,

as if I had time to waste!

- Hey, Mr Andrejic.
- I told you, get the hell outta here.

I don't have any work for you.

Yeah?

Why aren't you unloading
the wagons?

If you need some
special valve,

then get it yourself!

You want to write
a complaint?

What a load of crap.

Alright then.

And hurry up
while you're at it. Bye, bye.

Mr Andrejic!

I was doing a lot of thinking
while I was in the hospital.

It's a pretty tough situation
on the front right now.

The enemy is well-armed
whereas we,

to say it politely,

have an undisputed
disadvantage.

To win the war,
the Red Army

needs a decent submachine gun.

And in regards to this,
I have an idea.

Do you really?

Yes, I do.

And what if we design
a new submachine gun

right here in this depot.
Huh?

A submachine gun, huh?

And we'll design it here?
Here in the depot?

I remember who you are.

Kalashnikov.

You were the one
who sat at his workbench

and fiddled with guns,
right?

- That was me. Yeah.
- Uh-huh...

and do you also
happen to know, buddy boy,

what happened
when they found that

goddamned gun of yours
in my depot?

Two days of grilling from
son-of-a-bitch investigators.

"Who made this?"
"For what purpose?"

"Who gave him
the goddamn permission?"

I lost ten pounds of weight,
damn it!

I was fucking sweating so much.

Thank God,
the damn gun couldn't shoot.

Otherwise I'd be
in prison somewhere,

freezing my ass off.

Well in fact,
it shot really well.

Through sheet metal,
this thick.

But on that day,
I took the bolt out

in order to make
some improvements.

Thank God.

I'm really sorry about

the investigation
and all the worries.

So what do you think
about my idea?

Shall we give it a try?
Huh?

You know what,

Comrade Inventor?

Get the hell out of here!

Comrade Lieutenant,

Lieutenant Colonel Basarov's
car is ready and waiting.

What is the itinerary, sir?

First,
the Commandant's office,

and then as per his orders.

- Yes sir.
- You wait here.

Hold on a sec, comrade.

Is that some big wig arriving?

Oh, yeah he is.

Some high ranking
inspector from Alma-Ata.

His name is Hassanov?

Or Basarov?

Hey, you were on the front.

So tell me, what's it like?

Can I get that for you, sir?

Like being in a furnace.

You need some help there?

No, that's just fine.

Welcome back!

Lieutenant Colonel,
may I take your bags?

Lieutenant Colonel!
Senior Sergeant Kalashnikov.

Permission to speak, sir?

What happened?
You lose your tank, soldier?

I'm on leave
until I recover.

Can I talk with you
about something important, sir?

Start talking Sergeant,
just be quick about it.

Thank you. So...

what I really want to say,
deep inside...

Wrong, wrong start.

I've been in the army
since 1938,

and on the front line
since the war began.

Four enemy tanks,

and seven, no, no,

eight tank busters destroyed.

There could've been more,
but then I got wounded.

And every once in a while,

you know how it is,
we have to go to close combat.

So then you,

you have a Fritz
running at you

shooting with his
submachine gun,

and he's got forty rounds
a minute,

and he's shooting up your ass.

But you, you've got to
reload your gun after...

every individual shot,
so then...

- What are you saying, Sergeant?
- Oh, yeah.

Recommendation from Basarov?

Stubborn little bastard,
ain't you?

Well then...

Get me Zhigalov!

Hey. So, listen,

I have a young guy here
by the name of Kalashnikov.

Give him a corner to work in.

Yeah...

table, workbench, tools.

Yeah, alright.

Goodbye.

I can't give you any people.
Christ!

- I need every specialist I have here.
- Mr Andrejic, what...

what I am doing here
is of national importance.

Oh is it, really?

As opposed to what
I'm doing here?

Is that what you mean? Huh?

Jesus Christ,
as if the country doesn't need

these trains in working order.

I'm not giving you people,
full stop!

And, allow me
to be frank with you.

You don't have it in you,
Kalashnikov. Okay?

I can see why he took
pity on you, this Basarov.

A wounded soldier
trying to be useful.

He wrote the goddamn letter,

so he could get you
off his back.

So pretty please,

stop interfering with my work.
Get lost!

Kalashnikov,

rumor has it you're designing
a submachine gun.

Is that right?

- Yeah.
- And you're looking for specialists,

- that right as well?
- Yeah.

- But Andrejic said that I had no chance...
- Hey,

Andrejic was talking
about working hours.

We'll help you
in our spare time.

Zhenya Kravchenko,

On the milling machine.

Dimitry Kuzmich,

lathe operator, real good.

Matveich, Volodka,

Sanya, Uncle Misha.

Welcome back, Misha.

Lemme take a look.

Of course.

So, Comrade Kalashnikov,

we have great respect
for what you're doing,

and we'd be happy to help
you any way we can.

There you have it.

Don't you have a drawing
that's a little more specific?

Yeah I know.
As a draftsman I'm not too good.

Sorry... Sorry about that.

So, we'll have to eyeball it,

and measure it
until we get it right.

Dear Mom,

this small town
is home to some of the

finest people I have ever met.

I'm scared to think what I
would do without their help.

If my crazy idea works out,

I will go straight to Alma-Ata.

I was promised help there.

All I can tell you now is that
what I'm doing is top secret,

but it is very important.

Both for me,
and even more so,

for our country.

With all my love,

your Mikhail.

Zhenya, you try it.

Yeah, you do it.

- This building here?
- Yeah, right here.

Thanks for the ride.

Oh, excuse me.

Excuse me,

where can I find
Colonel Basarov?

Never heard of him, sorry.

You never heard of your
deputy military commissar,

are you kidding?

What's going on?

How do you do, sir?

I need to speak to
Lt. Colonel Basarov.

Comrade Basarov
is at the front.

- What? He's at the front?
- That's right.

And who has...

replaced him?

Why do you want
this information?

It's a question
of national importance.

Here.

My comrades and I,

we developed it in the depot.

All the work was done
in our free time.

What, what the hell?

- That's my frigging arm, for Christ sake!
- It's enough!

If you don't believe me,
call the manager of the depot.

His name is Krotov.

He can explain everything!

Hey!

Hey!

So what exactly
is going on here?

Thank you, Comrade Major.

Here it is,

an armed soldier
tried to break into

the commissar's office.

Here's his weapon.

You interrogate him?

We decided to wait for you,
sir.

Well that's interesting.

This boy ain't factory made.

Was done by hand...

I'm off to the Commandant,

won't be back until tomorrow.

Then we can deal with him.

Go to the workshop
on Gorokhovaya.

Ask for Andrey Kazakov, yeah?

Give him the gun,
I want it tested,

and I want to hear
his opinion.

Yes, sir.

Fire!

Looking good.

- Welcome, sir.
- At ease.

What do you think?

Not bad at all, this one,

but the grouping could be
a bit tighter.

Hold on a sec.

Got something for you.

Well, this is pretty
damn ugly.

Don't know what it is,

but it's handmade.

Some major form the commandant's
office sent it to me.

Look at that bolt,

and that baby there,
see that?

What do you think?

Interesting approach, huh?

Should we put it to the test?

Sure, why not?

And who is the person
who designed that?

I wouldn't mind
knowing myself.

What the hell
are you laughing at?

Really, no offense, Sergeant,

but there is no way possible
that you are an inventor.

At most you would
had a few years of grade school,

that would have been about it.

You're from a village?

Yes, I am from a village.

- And he thinks he's an inventor...
- Attention! Comrade major,

no incidents occurred
on my watch.

- At ease.
- At ease.

There he is,

your inventor.

Alive and well.

Let him the hell out.

What's your name?

Kalashnikov.

Hm.

You're free to go.

You, Inventor Kalashnikov.

Take him with you.

Let's go.

It's a curious design
you have here,

but it needs further
development

to improve the shot grouping,

and lower the
construction weight.

Have you heard about
the All-Union

weapon design contests?

For your design
to be commissioned into service,

you first have to win
a contest.

We'll work to make
some improvements,

and show it
to General Kurbatkin,

commander of the Central Asian
military district.

He can be harsh
and sometimes cranky,

but if he likes the templates
of your weapon design,

he can get you into
the contest.

So?

What do you think?

Well, what am I
supposed to say?

This morning I thought
I was going to jail,

and now I'm hearing
I should...

work on the grouping
and lower the weight of the gun.

Yes.

Yes, of course,
goddamn it!

You nervous?

Hey, you.

Get your uniform tip-top.

The general will be here soon.

Here comes the General.

See?
There he is, goddamn it!

Attention.

Fall in.

Welcome, Commander General.

So, which one of you
is Kalashnikov?

Here!

Well then, how about
showing us your invention?

So, you pull the bolt back
in order to load it.

Now there's a round
in the chamber.

Single fire,

and this is automatic.

How many rounds
are in there?

In the magazine there are 14.

Goes in like this,

comes out like that.

There will also be a magazine
with 70 rounds.

I am working on that
at the moment.

Let's put it to the test.

Magazine.

Binoculars.

Would you like some tea,
Comrade General?

Kalashnikov!

You need to work on
your appearance, Sergeant.

Is that your old uniform?

I... um...

didn't have time
to change, sir.

I want you to tell them
they have an order

to equip you
with a new one.

You are a weapons engineer.

I can't have you...

looking like that.

Thank you, sir.

And remember, Kalashnikov,

you are an engineer
from our military district.

You'll be showing
your prototype

at the All-Union
weapons design contest.

I'll be giving you a personal
letter of recommendation.

The apparel often
proclaims the man.

And don't let us down.

I believe in you.

- What'd he say?
- Yeah,

he said,
"I believe in you, Kalashnikov."

And you know
what else he said?

I'll be representing
our military district.

I can't say I've given it
a lot of thought up until now.

I'm talking about
natural talent.

Some might say
a gift of God.

I don't know where
it comes from,

but such gifts
are certainly real,

and that is a fact.

There is a man
sitting here among us

who has been touched
by the veritable hand of God.

Mikhail Timofejewitsch.

Our diamond in the rough.

Here's to a proud future,

and to the glory

of Russian armaments.

Forgive me
for not writing more often.

I'm like a leaf
in the wind now,

tumbling in the air instead of
coming to rest on the ground.

Once or twice I was very close
to making a visit,

but I'm not my own master
these days.

I could, of course,
drop everything

and rush into your
loving arms...

but I'd be letting our
country down,

and I can't afford that now.

With my deepest regards
and all my love,

Yours,

Mikhail.

How about going out
for a coffee sometime?

Oh, that would be nice.

Sir.

Are you heading to
the Schurovskiy range?

- That's where I'm going.
- Then give the sergeant here a lift.

- Sure.
- Hop in.

Would you like some bread?

What...

what's this you have here?

Let me take a look.

- Is it yours?
- It's mine.

Too heavy.

It's four ounces lighter
than the "PP Scha".

That's not saying much.

1-20.

The PP Scha weighed

at least a ton.

Mine is a pound lighter.

Without the magazine?

Course without it.

If your design wins
the competition,

I'll buy you a bottle
of the best Armenian Cognac.

If mine wins,

you gotta climb on the table
and crow like a rooster.

That a deal?

It's a deal.

So you're an inventor
as well?

More or less.

Sudaev, Alexei.

Kalashnikov, Mikhail.

Crow like a rooster.
You got it?

Oh yeah, I got it.

You still have any bread?

Yup.

Thanks a lot.

Greetings, sir.

"And I ask that you provide

"Senior Sergeant Kalashnikov

"with any assistance
required for his work,

as a firearms designer."

You have no education?

That is correct.
None.

So, you chose not to study?

Why is that?
Of course I would.

I mean, I'm ready.

If it's necessary,
I'm ready.

Come with me.

So, the test grounds
will have to be your classroom.

Your prototype will be entered
in the competition.

That recommendation has
a lot of weight around here.

This way, please.

So,

this is where
you'll be working.

Captain?

Looks good.

Comrade Colonel,

- Lutiy at your command.
- Captain here,

is our senior engineer,

Wassili Lutiy.

And this is Sergeant
Kalashnikov.

A talented inventor
from Kazakhstan.

- And a new contestant.
- Do you still need this?

No, get rid of it.

Give him his own desk and...

any support he might need.

- Yes, sir.
- Good luck, Sergeant.

Oh.

This workshop
belongs to Shpagin.

Shpagin's here?

Does that surprise you?

Our country needs
better weapons,

so all the engineers
you ever heard of are here.

Korovin is here,

Rukavishnikov is over there,

and that building over there

is Wassili Degtjarjow's
workshop.

Degtjarjow himself?

The one and only.

Wait, does this mean
I have to compete against

all these famous names?

That's the way it is.

You're in the big leagues now.

Everyone has the same
conditions.

We have a shortage
of lathe operators,

so you'll have to
wait your turn.

And, since you've been
assigned to me,

I'll need a complete set

of technical drawings
for your design.

Technical drawings?

Exactly.

I don't have any drawings.

Then you better
get to work on it.

You can draft, right?

Uh-huh,

got it.

Don't worry about it.
Make yourself at home.

I'll be back later.

Hey, comrades.

Excuse me.

Are you Kalashnikov?

Mm-hm.

Ekaterina Moiseeva.

The Captain asked me if I would
help you with your drawings.

I agreed to it,
I'm getting paid overtime,

but there's one condition.

Don't flirt with me.

If you...

I finish work tomorrow
at eight,

shall we meet at 8:30?

- Sounds good.
- I hope we have an understanding.

Look at him now,
way overwhelmed.

He doesn't know our Katya,
does he?

Hey, Sergeant.

Nice to see you,
Comrade Major.

Is that your weapon I hear?

Yeah, that one's mine.

Then I'm up next.

Who are those guys?

That group works
for Degtjarjowa.

- Careful, it's heavy.
- Where do you want the box?

Which one of them
is Degtjarjow?

Yes, sir, put it here.

Listen my friend,

maestro has other
things to do.

What's going on?

I think your rattle
stopped rattling.

Yeah, here. Come in.

Hello.

I'm here, as we agreed.

Hello.

Weapons down.

Check the targets.

"Manufacture a barrel
receiver clamp.

"Keep from unbending,

mount the base-clamp."

RECOMMENDATIONS
FOR DESIGN IMPROVEMENT

I don't know how to thank you
enough for all your work.

You don't have to thank me,
I'm getting paid overtime.

Wait here for a second.

Don't go away.
I'll come right back.

Here.

This is for you.

Take it,
it's my sugar ration. Please.

And...

I'd like to walk you
home tonight.

The results
will be in tomorrow,

and we may never
see each other again.

Alright then.

Oh my,

they're dancing.

It's been ages
since I danced.

Same here.

May I ask you
to dance with me?

Uh...
Don't you think you should

get the consent
of my date first?

I don't think the Sergeant
would mind.

Anatoly.

Ekaterina.

It's Senior Sergeant!

Thank you.

Thank you, by the way.

For what?

That we stopped by here.

I'm so happy
when I can dance.

The Lieutenant asked if he
could accompany me back home.

And he asked
what you mean to me.

And what am I?

I said that we
worked together.

Ekaterina, hold on a second.

May I walk you home?

Tonight, I'm the person
walking her home.

Is that right?

- I imagine that she...
- Then you imagined it!

Would either of you
like to ask me?

Go away.

I ain't going away.

How dare you treat me
like I'm some sort of

village girl idiot?

Then why are you
behaving like that?

You country bumpkin.

The results will be
announced tomorrow.

What will you do
in case you don't win?

Then, back to the front.

Hm.

I wish you all the best.

And thanks for the sugar,
my daughter loves sweets.

Yes, I have a daughter.

And your husband?

Is he on the front?

I don't have a husband.

Sergeant Kalashnikov.

You gonna congratulate me?

Comrade Major,

would you like me
to crow for you now?

Are you serious, buddy?
That was just a joke.

You know,
I'm a little tipsy right now.

I'm leaving for Tula,

to see my gun
go into mass production.

Congratulations.

Hey, keep your spirits up.

Listen, we all take a hit,

but I believe in you.

You got something special.

I gotta go now.

Kalashnikov!

One day you'll show us all
what you have in you.

Take good care of yourself.

So you wanna go home?

I lost, Comrade Colonel.

You don't get it.

Listen to me, Kalashnikov.

Very few people
actually make it here.

Captain?

Please explain to the senior
sergeant his new assignment.

If he starts acting up,
put him in detention.

Three days should do it.

And no food.

They're about to start
another contest,

for a new light submachine gun.

Why don't you start working
on it back in Kazakhstan?

They know you,
and they respect you there.

Then, you can come back here

to do all the testing
and improvements.

So, what do you think
of that, huh?

Mikhail?

Mikhail!

Yeah, I'll do it.

Hey.
Good morning.

Yup?

Kalashnikov.

- Comrade General.
- I know.

I read the telegram.

It didn't work, that right?

Well, I didn't win.

You just not smart enough?

- I guess not.
- Hm.

And what about
the machine gun?

Why don't I see any
self confidence?

This time, Kalashnikov,

there's a hell of a lot more
at stake,

and we're going to have to
pull a lot of resources.

Money, persons...

and you're giving me
a goddamn shrug?

Tell Sasha,
that Julia is waiting for him.

I've read your letter
ten times over.

Not only are you
hopeless at drawing,

but you're terrible
at spelling, too.

I suppose you preferred
inventing

to learning normal stuff
in school.

You write that you
want to see me.

I don't know what to say to
that, Comrade Senior Sergeant.

But this is what
I can tell you:

invent your light machine gun

and...

come on over.

Captain Lobov,
State Security.

I'm here to accompany
Kalashkin.

Here I am.

Not Kalashkin,
it's Kalashnikov.

Ah, Senior sergeant.

I'd of thought you were
at least a Major.

Is that the doo-hickey
in question?

This doo-hickey,
as you say,

is for our soldiers.

Of great importance.

Yeah, right, whatever.

Don't worry, Sergeant.

We'll get it there
in one piece.

No need to worry.

Wait here.

Kalashnikov!

Kalashnikov?

Little Misha?

Mikhail, it's really you!

Shh...

Shut the hell up,
it's my goddamn brother!

- Viktor?
- Oh, my baby brother!

How come...

what the hell
are you doing here, huh?

Misha,

how is Mama and our sister?

Misha.

Misha.

Why don't you say anything,
Mishanya?

But, I can see life
is treating you well.

This was fate, Misha!

I wasn't as lucky as
you can obviously see.

Mikhail!
Please give Mom a kiss from me.

- Your documents?
- Misha!

- Show me your documents.
- My little brother,

I love you!

What's the matter,
Sergeant?

Who was that?

Nobody I know.

Ha, I got this,

from a woman

on the platform.

And guess how much I paid?

Zilch.

She ran so fast

she was gone in a blur.

Sergeant, come on.

Do the honors.

I'd prefer not to,
Comrade Captain.

That was a command,
not an offer.

Is it below you,
a veteran of the front,

to drink with State Security?

- I didn't say that.
- But you were probably thinking it!

But here,
on the home-front,

we don't have it any easier.

The ideological enemies

pose a greater threat
than the Nazis.

He disguises himself,
feigns friendship.

But if you turn
your back on him

and drop your guard,
then he will stab you...

Son-of-a-fucking-bitch.

Hey, Sergeant,

when are we gonna get there?

I don't know.

What do you mean
you don't know?

You said one goddamn mile.

Where the hell are we,
Sergeant?

Sir, I'd like to apologize,
Captain,

it was probably
the wrong path.

I suspected that already that,

that you led us here
on purpose.

What do you mean by that?

Don't give me that bullshit.

Back at the station, that
convict called you, "brother."

Christ, Kalashnikov,
I bust my ass for my work.

And an ideological enemy

I can smell from a mile away.

So, who the hell are you?

Senior Sergeant Kalashnikov.

You found some cushy spot

and wriggled your way
into favor,

by making some stupid guns.

But you can't fool me.

You're a traitor
and I'm going to blow

- your goddamn cover.
- Who the hell do you dare

to call a traitor?

Kalashnikov.

Sergeant?

Sergeant?

I don't wanna
hear that shit!

Take it back for fuck's sake!

All that I'm guilty of is that
my father lost his farmland

to the socialist cause,

but I'm sure
you knew that already.

And I can't do nothing
for my brother.

I haven't seen him in
at least eight fucking years.

But I am grateful
that he's still alive.

Let's bury the hatchet.

The contest commission
came to the following decision:

None of the light machine
gun designs that were submitted

are acceptable.

Since the technical requirements
make mass production

- impossible.
- What the hell?

- No way.
- Quiet,

comrades, quiet.

Quiet.

This contest is over.

However...

the war still drags on.

Which is why our bureau
will give the finalists

an opportunity
to continue developing

new firearms designs.

Thank you.
You're free to go.

Doctor, I'm asking you.

Please write
that I'm fine to serve.

I beg you.
I'm a tank commander.

I don't need this arm
to do that well.

I gotta see targets,
and give commands.

My vision in perfect.

Bottom line, watch this:

I, M, S, A,

L, B, M, K.

Clench your fist.

Please straighten your arm now.

Stretch it.

Straight.

Even more. More!

Good.
You can put it down.

- Comrade Captain.
- Dismissed, Sergeant.

I said dismissed.

Misha!

Kalashnikov!

- Seriously?
- Sergeant!

That is tougher
than I thought.

Quit complaining, you sissy.

What did the doctor say?

I understand, fuck.

Let's have a smoke.

They don't want me either.

Got only one lung.

Can't run without
getting out of breath?

Yeah.

So, I took a look
at the drawings

for your submachine gun.

There's potential there.

Really is...

I'm really impressed
with your approach.

And Glukhov as well.

You could stay here and work
if you wanted to.

I'd say in my department first,

but, if things went well,

then you'd have your own.

Give yourself time
to think about it.

I don't need
an answer right now.

I believe in you.

We all believe in you.

The question is
do you believe in yourself?

Sometimes I wonder
what my life would've been like,

if I had not stepped off
that train in Matai.

It probably would've been good.

It's mushroom season
back home right now.

I would've brought
a big basket,

full of them,
from the forest,

Mom, come here.

and we would all sit
down together to clean them.

Mom,

you would scold us for not
cleaning the tops correctly,

and Vladimir,

if he were still alive,

would come up with excuses
to avoid work.

You'd feel sorry for him
and let him go.

- Mishka!
- And I would sit there with you all,

happily,
until the end of my days.

What's behind your back?

Nothing.

Let me take a look.

Look at what?

Did you make a rifle again?

You wanna help Mommy?

How can I help?

Misha?

Now you stay here, Daddy.

Mom, please meet Mikhail.

Very nice to meet you.

Yes, it's nice.

The bread rations
were all taken...

Well, Misha brought
a whole loaf for us.

Thank you.

So, where are you from?

The Altai mountains.

So, you are here
for work temporarily?

Yeah. That's right.

And when you've
completed your work,

you'll be returning
to the mountains?

Mom!

I hope you'll excuse me.

There is no reason for me
to doubt you're a good person.

I love your daughter.

And I would like her
to be my wife.

Katya, will you marry me?

Victory! Victory!

We won, brothers!

Yeah!

What's going on?

Victory at last!

We won!

Open the window.

Open the window!

We won!

Victory is ours!

- We won, we won!
- Really?

Yes, we won!
We won! Victory!

The war is over!

I congratulate you

upon the victorious termination

of the Great Patriotic War.

Yeah!

Play on, play on.

Come on, Mikhail!

Do you think they'll be
closing us down?

No one needs a machine gun
when there's peace.

I know what we can design
in peacetime.

An electric meat grinder.

Think about it, they'll put one
in every household.

You put in the meat,
press a button

and then there you.

We'll call it the
"Grinder AK 1."

K like Kalashnikov?

K like the Kalashnikovs.

The idea is from me, yeah?

Oh crap,

what the hell is in this?

Okay, and now heave.

Watch out.

Yeah? Come in.

How do you do,
Comrade Colonel?

Ah, Kalashnikov.

Come on, come on in.

Congratulations to our Victory.

Congratulations to you, sir.

How come you haven't
changed yet?

Dress parade is at twelve.

I never had a uniform
for a dress parade.

May I ask a question?

Then go for it.

The amount of hard work
we put into this...

does it end up being
for nothing in the end?

So many of our hopes,

and thoughts,

went into this.

- Here, read this.
- Why are you laughing?

I just...

just received it today.

"This decree hereby declares

"to equip our army and fleet

with superior firearms."

I was planning on...

sharing this document

by making an official
announcement but now...

I can tell you personally.

You are to proceed
with your work.

But from now on,

in your own department.

Take care of this here first.

Make another one of these.

I'd say same specs.

- Hello, comrades.
- Welcome back, sir.

- Good afternoon, comrades.
- Hello.

My God, Kalashnikov.

Moving up in the world.

- Doing my best.
- Still working on a new assault rifle?

Yeah.

Come on, let's leave
the two of them alone.

AK.

Got a working prototype?

No, but if they approve
the design...

Simplify it, simplify.

Every extra seam,

and part,

is a potential weak point
that'll backfire.

A submachine gun's gotta be
simple, like an easy tool.

Like a hammer,

easy to use.

Your PPS-43
is a work of genius.

Hm...

Have you...

read the re-armament decree?

Yeah.

Next month they're gonna
announce a new contest,

to develop a new
kind of rifle.

In other words my,

as you called it,
"genius PPS",

will soon only be found
in museums.

And that, Klashnikov,
is how the world works.

Are we competing
against each other again?

If you win,

I'll buy you a bottle
of Armenian cognac.

Don't be so upset,
you're only going for a year.

- That's not what it's about!
- Then what then?

The Kowrow Firearms Plant.

Don't you know who runs it?

- General Degtjarjow.
- Degtjarjow.

- So what?
- He's my competitor.

Do you think they'll support me
if I'm working there?

No! I'll be lucky

if they give me a sledgehammer
and maybe a goddamn workbench.

Misha, you'll manage.
You're strong-willed.

Yeah, stubborn.

And you are the greatest
weapons designer

in the Soviet Union.

- Am I?
- I know it.

So you don't think
I'm the best one in the world?

Dream on, soldier.

Your papers, please?

Wait a sec,
are you heading in to town?

Alright, then move on.

Comrade Kalashnikov.

How ya doing?

I was assigned
to your workshop.

Zaitsev, Alexander.

We'll be working together
if you don't mind.

Uh, you don't mind, do you?

No, I don't mind.

It's only my second
week here but

I know my way around already.

Most of the shop foremen
still don't recognize me

and think I'm a courier,

but things like
that don't really bother me.

Who's that?

That's comrade Degtjarjow.

Some car he got there.

A real limousine.

It was a present from Stalin.

Do you know him personally?

Who? Stalin?

No. Comrade Degtjarjow.

No. But I'm sure
I'll be meeting him soon enough.

Katya, I have news.

Happy news.

Deep inside, I'm overjoyed.

I want to share
my joy with you in secret.

Everything seems to be
falling into place,

quite literally.

Everything fits together

like it's meant to be there.

Sudaev was right,

everything must be simple.

As simple as a hammer.

I started thinking,

and then, bam!

The solution came to me
in a flash.

As you might guess,
I have trouble sleeping.

I'm nervous. I'm terrified.

I was less scared
going into battle in a tank.

At the same time,
I'm very excited.

I can't wait to test
the first batch.

Is everything alright?

What do we do now?

Shooting range.

But at the moment,

they're testing
the prototypes from Degtjarjow.

That's no problem,
we only have one.

Who is doing
all the banging?

Designer Kalashnikov.

I'm gonna have to test
my prototype.

Today the prototypes

from General Degtjarjow
are scheduled for testing.

What did I tell you?

Good.

VICE PRESIDENT

...that you wanna have eggs

must endure the
cackling of hens...

Yeah, thanks.
I'll keep that in mind.

What? Oh, right.

The only thing
I can do for you

is pencil you in for
a slot on Wednesday.

That's two whole
days from now.

Yeah.
Well, you'll just have to wait.

Listen, I have lost
too much sleep over this,

and I need to see how
it performs ASAP.

The shooting range is occupied
by General Degtjarjow

through Wednesday.

Request permission
to test elsewhere.

A goddamn forest
would do the trick.

Christ Almighty, I need to know
if I've done everything right!

What you're asking
is impossible for me to grant.

No weapons can be
taken off the premises.

Can you get us bullets?

Bullets?
Ah, for what?

Hey, birdbrain!

What the hell is that?

Stop all shooting right now!

Uh... Misha.

Drop the gun!

Stand down goddamn it,
or I'll shoot!

Easy! Easy!

Off you go to the slammer!

What the hell
is going on here?

No idea,
I heard some shots.

To the left, and up.

Comrade General,
Senior Sergeant Kalashnikov

is here by your request.

Send him in.

Well, thank you Major,
you're dismissed.

Yes, sir.

I remember you.

Kalashnikov.

The competition in 1943
was won by Sudaev.

But your submachine gun
stood out by a mile.

For a combat weapon,

it was an absolute
piece of shit,

if you don't mind
my saying so.

But, for a handmade gun,

pieced together
from a chunk of iron...

hmm, that was quite something.

It's been said
you have no real education?

That's correct,
I have no education.

So, you're self-taught.

Why don't you take a seat,
Senior Sergeant?

I'd be interested in examining
your newest rifle.

What I mean is,
before it is put to the test.

- Comrade General...
- Don't be scared.

I know designers

don't like to show
their prototypes to each other,

but don't worry.

Your genius ideas

aren't gonna be stolen by me.

My automatic weapon
is completed,

and ready to be tested.

I'm just curious about yours.

Hm.

Not a bad idea.

The assembly is intuitive,

every part fits perfectly.

I don't see any point
in submitting my gun

for further testing,
if I may speak frankly.

I'd say the construct of this
here is superior to mine.

This design by
Senior Sergeant Kalashnikov

is far more advanced
than mine.

Comrade General,

what should we do
with your prototype?

Lock it up
in a safe somewhere,

so that no one can see it.

Yes, sir.

Bulkin, test fire.

Ready.

Proceed with the test.

Now I am curious...

Fire when ready.

Failure to eject
the cartridge.

Dementiev, test fire.

- Ready.
- Then proceed with the test.

Fire when ready.

Failure to fire.

It appears that the bolt
is jammed.

Kalashnikov, test fire.

Fire when ready.

Test fire successful.

Continue with the test.

You may fire when ready.

Misha!

Well?

Everything seems
to have gone well.

And aren't you happy?

No, I am.

I'm pregnant.

Misha...

Misha, put me down.

Put me down!

- Sir.
- That was really something,

- no doubt.
- Yeah.

Comrades.

- Congratulations.
- From me, too.

Thank you.

- All the best to you, Sergeant.
- Thank you, sir.

Oh shit, here he comes.

Marshall of the
Artillery Voronov.

Good day, Comrade Marshal.

Kalashnikov.

Good day, Comrade Marshall.

How are you feeling today?

- Uh, buoyant.
- Buoyant is good.

You're holding up well.

You never forget
your first award.

Do you have plans
for the prize money?

Well... I haven't really
thought about that, Marshall.

Colonel, do you mind
if I borrow the Sergeant

until this evening?

Not at all,
Comrade Marshall.

Let's get in the car.

Go for it.

It's time for you to start

moving up the ranks,
Kalashnikov.

Leave your Sergeant days
behind you,

and become an officer.

How much education
do you have?

I had to leave
the school early, Marshall.

In the seventh grade, sir.

That reminds me
of Lomonosov,

who walked from his village
in Siberia

all the way to Moscow.

And you're from where?

Altai.

And the last time
you were home?

So long that I'm afraid

I wouldn't recognize
my own mother.

Hm.

So, you better go
and visit her.

Who'll give me permission
to do that?

I thought I'd get leave
after winning the competition.

Now, I have to plan
for ten years

of work ahead of me.

We serve the Motherland,
Sergeant.

Our Motherland.

In the Altai,

it's probably beautiful now,
right?

Oh, yes it is.

Regiment,

attention!

Eyes right.

Eyes forward.

Regiment, at ease!

Comrade Marshall
of the Artillery,

the rifle regiment
is assembled

under the command

of Major Ivanov.

Greetings, comrades.

Greetings to you,

Comrade Marshall
of the Artillery.

Congratulations
on successfully

completing testing
of a new firearm.

Hooray!

We are proud of the long list
of our weapons designers.

Creators of powerful weapons

that always played
a great role

in defeating our enemies.

The names of such greats like
General Lieutenant Degtjarjow,

and designers like Tokarew,
Simonow and Sudaev,

will forever be remembered
in the history of firearms.

Today, I would like
to introduce you to a young,

and very talented designer.

Recipient of the Stalin Prize,

Senior Sergeant
Alexander Kalashnikov.

His AK-47 assault rifle

is the future of weaponry.

We thank you for your service.

We thank you,

utmost, for your service.

Congratulations, Sergeant.

I'll be signing an order
for your leave

to visit your mother.

Go home, my boy.

And give your mother
all my best.

At ease.

At ease.

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