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Chechnya in the Shali region 1995.
-We’re lucky today, eh? — I cheerfully asked my best friend Vanka Ermakov.
We were on a reconnaissance mission, during which we managed to destroy two small detachments of spirits. Now everything seemed calm… The breeze rustled quietly in the foliage of the mountain trees. Our armored soldiers rode along a narrow mountain path, we sat on the armored. The sun was hot like mad, inside these iron monsters it’s like a bathhouse now. Hmm, I don’t envy our drivers..
-Yes, not bad. You know, I’m already so tired of all this… I wish I could demobilize and go home soon.
-Yeah, it’s good at home now. But here you and I at least became men, we saw a lot. There will be something to tell the girls! — I said with a grin, seeing that Van (that’s the nickname that stuck with him) was not in the mood. That’s his nature. A pacifist, one might say. I’m already used to war, but almost everyone is used to it. And this is not counting the fact that I got here a month later than Van. And he still couldn’t get used to it. With death. By the way, it’s still impossible to get used to death, no matter what anyone says. You can put up with it, but it will never turn into a household necessity or a daily routine. Every time she turns your soul and consciousness upside down. Some get used to it… Or pretend.
Today’s battle with the Czechs probably left a heavy mark on Ven’s consciousness. Although I myself saw how he put two. That’s the kind of person he is. And you can’t say about him that he’s weak, no. Sometimes it seems to me that we are weaker than him..
Damn, such thoughts are dangerous in war. Here is a man fighting, and at the very least he has formed the belief that he is fighting for his Motherland. It doesn’t matter how things turned out, the commander’s swearing or politicians’ speeches on TV. The main thing is that this is the only thing that keeps him going, helps him go against human nature. No, of course, murder is a completely natural and necessary thing in nature. If living things could not kill each other, the earth would be overwhelmed by a wave of overpopulation. But now, in a peaceful, at least partly civilized time, when a person does not need to literally fight for his life, although this is also not a fact and not always… Nowadays it is not as easy for a person to kill a person as before.
So, I say that such thoughts destroy this mental defense of a person, turn a soldier into something… unfit for combat, let’s say. So it is necessary to maintain the fighting spirit in the army; the bad commander is the one who does not strengthen it in his soldiers.
I was distracted from my thoughts by the sudden stop of the column. I grabbed the machine gun more comfortably with my hands, since in war any deviation from the planned plan of action is either a deliberate decision or an unforeseen and very dangerous circumstance. The abruptness of the current stop made us think about the second option.
I stared ahead, trying to figure out what happened.
Collapse. Hmm, this is out of place, since I really don’t want to carry heavy stones under the scorching sun. Only if the collapse was natural, if not..
I heard a strange whistle that could deceive anyone, but not me.
-Lie down! – I shouted, unable to think of anything better. Fortunately, they understood me. Everyone quickly began to jump off the armored vehicles, but the shooting intensified. We did not see spirits, but fire came from many points. Pulling the shutter, I rolled towards the rock and pressed my back into some cobblestone. Mother. We had no chance, three bodies lay on the hot dust of the road, limbs twisted unnaturally. Van was not among them. He lay down behind our armored vehicle and from his “Degtyarev” fired sharp short bursts to where flashes of fire from the militants were visible. He’s still a strong man.
I fired another burst towards the militants when I was horrified to see something hissing and leaving behind a long trail of smoke. I saw the flight of the RPG charge as if in slow motion, already understanding in advance that I could not do anything, just go a little behind the stone..
A deafening explosion announced that it had hit the stone, the shock wave threw me back, there was a blinding flash before my eyes, and I fell into the blackness that swallowed me whole.
Pain. The head and body seemed to be saturated with concentrated torment. It couldn’t be worse. I barely opened my swollen eyes and tried to move. I wish I hadn’t done this, my skull was pierced right through. I didn’t try to move anymore, but began to explore the room in which I found myself.
It was some kind of barn, it must be said that it was quite damp. Tiny room, literally two by two. Twilight reigned here, a small window was cut out in the opposite wall. There was absolutely not enough light from it, but my eyes soon got used to the darkness, and I was able to see the room better. There was nothing interesting here. The floor is littered with rotting straw, and in the corner there is a pile of rubbish from broken wheels, pieces of wood and other junk.
I listened. It was quiet outside, I couldn’t hear anything that could help me figure out where I was now.
However, I needed to examine myself. The problem was that it was not easy to do this, since every movement caused unbearable pain. The result was not very encouraging. Not only was the whole body one big set of abrasions and bruises, but the legs also held the heavy pads with an iron grip.
I clearly remembered only the explosion and loss of consciousness; everything before that was seen as if in a fog. I suddenly remembered Vanka, his image was sharply imprinted on my consciousness, I thought stupidly..
Ambush! Road from exploration. Spirit Attack. Everything flashed before my eyes in one chain. What happened to the boys… Am I the only one who survived?? They may have taken more prisoners but are keeping them elsewhere, this kennel is too small.
Despite the fact that I had done almost nothing, fatigue enveloped me like a heavy veil and I fell into… not sleep, but something close to it. I was constantly on alert, silently waiting for a guest.
The guest didn’t have to wait long. The door opened and a young Chechen hurriedly ran inside. Faced with my gaze, he froze for a moment, but immediately overcame himself, came up to me and, sharply grabbing my hand, pulled me up.
At that second the world blossomed for me with all the colors of the rainbow. Yes, of course I slept. If you can call sleeping uncomfortable lying on straw that stinks of rot and dampness. Despite all the conditions, I felt much better than… yesterday? Or a few hours ago? In this little room darkness reigned all the time, making it impossible to determine the time of day. In general, the pain literally blinded me, my vision went dark. By some miracle I managed to stay on my feet, leaning against the wall. The guy apparently realized that I was in no condition to run wherever they said. So he just took me out of the barn outside.
On the street I went blind again when the sunlight hit my eyes. A dull landscape of a mountain village appeared before me. Ancient houses built from cobblestones, the ground covered with the ubiquitous straw… And dirty, sullenly looking locals. Highlanders. Bandits. A hot haze of hatred swayed in each pair of eyes. I felt too lousy to respond in kind. Of course I hated action movies. The spirits killed many of my comrades who became close friends. Van… Is he alive?? Don’t know…
Each of us hated them. Militants. Chekhov. Spirits. Almost everyone had personal scores with them. Someone’s friend was killed, some unfortunates even had their family. The only one who was probably neutral towards them was Ven. His friends also died at the hands of militants. But he did not have the rage and anger that was, for example, in me. And you can’t say that he’s a bad soldier. No. He’s got a lot of courage. Always followed orders. But all this contradicted his inner nature, causing a detonation of feelings that he tried to hide. But it didn’t always work out.
Meanwhile, the Chechen took me out of the small courtyard, and I saw something that made me feel both worse and better at the same time.
On something like a square, my guys were lined up in a column. Or rather, what’s left of them. About ten people in frayed, torn clothes stood, sullenly staring at the frozen ground. A bearded mountaineer walked proudly in front of them. He had a Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder, and his coal-black eyes glared into everyone’s face.
Clouds were gathering above us, their blackness clouded the surface of the sky.
My guard at this time put me at the head of the line and went to his friends standing to the side. They spoke sharply in short phrases to each other, every now and then glancing at my boys. In these eyes there was not only anger, fear was dissolved in them. They were afraid of us. Russian soldiers. Even when we were shackled hand and foot, they were afraid of us. ‘Cause we weren’t broken. But here they are… They took us prisoner… Or we took them?
A clap of thunder hit my ears, streams of water poured from the sky..
-Russians! For many years you www.trino-casino.co.uk and others like you oppressed our free people! You killed our warriors, the true defenders of Allah! You have desecrated our great mountains with your presence! But today it’s your turn! – the highlander shouted in broken Russian. Apparently he was their boss.
Damn, how stupid his screams still looked. They know they’re doomed. But they use prisoners to hide and forget, even for a moment, about their inevitable fate. Make fun of at least a dozen Russian soldiers, take it out on them. Try to convince yourself that it’s not over yet. But you can’t tell yourself a lie. More precisely, not completely. No matter how much you believe it, a small piece of your brain will know the truth. And such a not very successful symbiosis will morally kill anyone. Will burn his faith. This highlander was, apparently, close to this. He knew. But he continued to cling to the slightest hope slipping from his naughty fingers. Even if this hope only prolonged the dying convulsions.
-But you have a choice. “You can come under the banner of Allah,” the militant said, clearly enjoying his words. – Those who disagree will be shot. Well? Who’s first?
I expected something like this. But the conditions were too lenient. Strange. Surely this nit saved something as a surprise.
The spirit’s eyes darted from face to face, turning into it. The guys looked away, fixing it on the damp ground, some hesitantly, others sharply and decisively. From the rain, everyone’s clothes were soaked through, drops of water flowed down their exhausted, dirty faces.
One guy made a hesitant movement towards the action movie… I didn’t know him very well. Arrived to us only two weeks ago, hasn’t really settled in. In battle, he was not exactly a brave man, so he shot somewhere in the direction of the spirits, but no more.
He stepped. One more step. More confident. And so he approached the militant and seemed rooted to the ground, not daring to turn around. And look us in the eyes. However, he quickly decided.
Second. Step by step stood next to the first. Hunched under the downpour, staring at the ground.
Three more.
There were ten of us. Five left. Guys Who Aren’t Out of Order. I took a closer look at their faces. Trying to remember. Forever. The last of our four was a guy whom I couldn’t recognize at first, since his face was covered in blood from a wound on his head. He looked up at me and smiled. Van. I breathed a sigh of relief. Everything is fine now.
-Russian traitors! – the mountaineer turned to the apostates, who stood there, not daring to move. – In order to prove your loyalty to Allah and join our ranks, you will have to fight. To death. So not everyone will be lucky enough to become a free warrior. And to make it easier for you, your comrades, who have doomed themselves to death by their choice, will watch! You! And you! – he pointed his hand at the two guys – Forward. A few minutes to prepare.
Here is the promised surprise. How crap they felt right now. And how they probably wanted to return to us and die with honor. But they and I probably understood that the spirits would shoot anyone who turned back. Because there was no turning back.
The guys slowly came to the place indicated by the militant. When looking at them, it felt like every step caused them terrible pain. However, that’s probably how it was.
Moving their legs with difficulty, they stood opposite each other. Hands clenched into fists. And they never dared to look each other in the eyes under this pouring rain. The water blurred the silhouettes of people, giving a feeling of unreality to what was happening.
Breaking the single sound of pouring water that had taken possession of my consciousness, a single shot thundered, throwing up a fountain of wet earth between the fighters.
-Time’s up. “Begin,” said the gunman, jerking the shutter. – Or you’ll both die.
Time passed. Seconds dripped painfully slowly into the abyss of time, melting into years and millennia. Two figures froze in the rain like petrified statues, not taking their eyes off each other. The shot broke them, after which all the mentally built defense, an attempt to resist and preserve dignity and honor cracked and collapsed.
I remembered their names. The first, tall and thin guy was called Andrei Stepnov, the second, stocky and muscular, athletic fighter – Nikita Shcherbakov.
He took the first step towards his former comrade. Came close. Andrei awkwardly backed away, uncertainly clenching and unclenching his fists, sliding in the wet mud. Some spirit laughed contemptuously. Shcherbakov briefly poked Andrei in the stomach without swinging, but he immediately shrank and hunched over. Another blow. By the face. Stepnov fell to the ground, the rain poured on him, mixed him with mud, flooded his eyes. Nikita slowly bent down and hit again. Andrei shrank, awkwardly covered his face with his hand, but a fist fell on him, breaking his pitiful defense. Blood splashed onto the wet jacket, the water immediately washed it away, but blow after blow began to follow. Stepnov cried, but the inexorable rain did not tolerate any sign of weakness. Shcherbakov became furious and began beating Stepnov, forgetting about his homeland, country, duty, oath. He forgot about everything under this downpour, his consciousness became foggy, his reason went away, giving way to wolfish primitive instincts. When it seemed that everything was predetermined, a turning point happened. Stepnov tried to kick the enemy in the stomach, and he succeeded. Shcherbakov forgot about everything and saw nothing, his rage reached its limit and became madness. The blow threw Shcherbakov onto his back, the dirt, mixing with the rain, clung to him. Stepnov launched a retaliatory attack. Blood flowed down his face from numerous abrasions. Two former warriors grapple with each other. The Wolf fought with the Beast. The first grabbed the second, dirt stained his eyes, his hands grabbed, broke and beat everything they found. The legs were stained red, the blood soaked the legs of the pants in thin streams.
Stepnov’s hand suddenly felt a small pebble under a layer of dirt, but immediately squeezed the sharp edges and brought it down on Shcherbakov’s head. He resisted, but everything got worse, the stone hit, tore and crushed. The death convulsion shook his body, but Stepnov did not stop, having tasted the fury of battle.
When Shcherbakov twitched and fell silent for the last time, the winner threw away the broken, bloody stone and slowly rose to his feet.
He turned around and looked at us, at the militants and… at the sky. He exposed his disfigured face to the cold streams and smiled crookedly.
And turning sharply, he rushed at the leader. He jumped on him and knocked him down. Grabbing his neck with a death grip, Stepnov broke it with a bestial grin, the spirit wheezed, kicking his legs.
The militants did not shoot right away because they were afraid of catching their own fire. Two ran up and started hitting with rifle butts, not looking where, but it was impossible to tear Stepnov away from the Czech. Then the first one, sharply grabbing and pulling the soldier’s head back, grabbed a large dagger with a bone handle and with a quick, sharp movement cut his throat.
We were herded back to the barns. Their main one, when they tore Andrei’s corpse away from him, was dead. The corpses of both Andrei and Shcherbakov were thrown into the abyss.
The spirits constantly talked to each other, casting glances full of hatred and… horror?
But the downpour never stopped, the sky was thinned by dazzlingly bright lightning, and the thunder was frightening.
The place of the fight was illuminated with light, the ancient mountains looked at it, amazed at the strangeness and unpredictability of human feelings. And the rain kept pouring down, washing away dirt, blood and death from the lists.
I sat and looked at the sunbeam playing on the rotten wall of the barn. We wanted to eat and drink, but since yesterday, when the fight happened, the spirits simply threw us back and haven’t remembered yet. It’s good though.
I thought, leaning against the wall and closing my eyes, there was a draft running down my legs. I thought about this war, about my boys and what to do next. There was no answer.
Terrible war. None of us ordinary soldiers know what exactly he is fighting for. For the Motherland. Theoretically. But why the hell are we fighting for our homeland in these damned mountains??! During the Great Patriotic War, soldiers knew for sure that they were fighting for their homes, families and country. We… The only thing that holds us back is revenge for our killed comrades. Which doesn’t appear right away.
Now I feel hate for these bastards. Militants, the lion’s share of whom are mercenaries. Among the real Caucasians who are among the militants, there are unlikely to be many true freedom fighters. Just animals, greedy for prey and money, devoid of everything human.
Paskudas.
I clenched my fists until it hurt, digging my nails into my skin, shuddering from my own helplessness.
Nothing. You will still regret what you did. No scum can break Russian soldiers, especially one like you.
Powerless hatred burned inside, wanted to break out, and I tried to calm down. Now we have to wait and think what to do next. It is unlikely that they will now invite anyone to join. The bastards understand what such proposals are fraught with.
Ransom? It is possible, but unlikely, and it is unlikely that such “happiness” will smile on many. After everything that happened, the spirits will probably just shoot most of them.
We need to get out.
***
As we were being led back, I noticed that Van, along with three guys, had been pushed into a barn, attached exactly to my kennel. Now, lying against the wall, I listened. A quiet sound seemed to come from somewhere, I, pressing my face into the stinking tree, quietly called.
-Wan! Van! Can anyone hear me?
-Yes, Igor. How are you? – said a familiar voice.- What are we going to do??
An annoying mosquito, of which there were thousands, was itching above my ear.
-Fine. Like what? We have to get out, otherwise they will slaughter them like sheep, you know them.
-I know. We need to open the door somehow, I found a piece of wire here, maybe we can open the lock.
-Come on, do it. First you need to get out of here, then get a weapon. Further depending on the circumstances. Understood?
-Got it, just think about how we will leave as a group… And where.
-Okay, come on.
-Come on, I said. – Good luck.
I moved away from the wall, inspired by such great success. Maybe we can escape, get to our people..
Yeah. Dreaming is not harmful.
I slept, sensitively listening to the sounds. Van’s knocking through the wall woke me up, I immediately jerked towards the sound and called him.
-Igor,” a whistling whisper was heard, “I was able to open the door, I’ll try to go out and look around. Wait.
I began to wait in my “cell”. The darkness was thick and impenetrable. I sat in the dark and listened intently to the sounds outside. My heart was pounding, I licked my dry lips. Suddenly there was some noise, a momentary struggle and everything went quiet. I peered towards the exit until my eyes hurt.
The door creaked quietly and opened. The fresh night air breathed on me. Van came inside. He had an RPK bandura thrown over his shoulder, and he dragged the militant’s body into the barn. The spirit had a broken neck.
-“You’re crazy,” I breathed.
-Yes, but this is just the beginning. We need at least one more machine gun, in case of persecution,” said Ven.
-You just need to do everything quietly. What’s out there? – I asked, pointing my hand towards the village.
Van looked at me thoughtfully and replied:
-These idiots only put one person to guard us. It seems like there’s no one else here. The guards are further out at the exit,” Vanya handed me a knife. – Well, the militant had. Now we need to remove one Czech. We work on my signal. Went.
Well, let’s go, let’s go. I clutched the knife tightly in my hand and stepped into the darkness. The thought suddenly occurred to me about how many of my comrades were killed with this knife, but I immediately drove it away. Now let’s get even.
We crouched down and approached the wall of a large stone-built house.
-“Here it is,” Van showed me with his hand. – Let’s.
Clutching the knife in my palms, I crept up almost close to the militant. Step, grab. I tightly covered the Czech’s mouth and slashed him in the throat with a knife. Blood gushed from the gaping wound, instantly soaking his camouflage jacket. I carefully removed the Kalashnikov from him and searched his pockets for spare clips, grenades and weapons.
-Van! – I called quietly.
His figure emerged from the darkness:
-Well done. Now let’s go to the boys, I told them to sit quietly for now. Let’s see how we leave.
There were three of them. All normal guys, but newbies. Salagi. They will be of little use if business begins… Looking for the others in the dark village was tantamount to suicide, so we moved forward as quickly as possible.
We found a passage and quickly climbed out one by one. Here she is. Freedom. Intoxicating and filling the soul with a lightness unknown to a person accustomed to freedom.
But it was too early to rejoice. Now I just needed to move as far away from the village as possible and hide. Van had a map taken from the Czech corpse.
We walked. It’s starting to get light. Almost an hour has passed since the escape, judging by the watch also taken from the militant’s body by the prudent Ven.
I wondered if the spirits would give chase when they saw that we were gone. More likely. The question is when.
***
Our small detachment left along the gorge. This was the only way, which meant that it would not be difficult for the militants to understand where we had gone. The wind blew under their frayed clothes, but everyone’s faces were full of determination to reach. And we went to our people, hoping for luck and an unimaginable miracle. We walked… And the spirits too.
It all started when we almost reached the exit of the gorge. The stomping of feet, harsh phrases. The spirits have caught up with us.
Vanya lay down behind a stone and installed his RPK, I lay down next to him. The guys sat behind, biting their lips from their own helplessness and uselessness.
It’s almost dawn. Birds flew in the sky, quietly singing their songs. The leaves rustled. And a column of militants was coming towards us, I counted twenty people. Apparently, the corpses we left in the village told them that it was better to take more people with them.
My last thoughts before the fight were interrupted by Ven’s gaze:
-You must leave.
-What?! – I asked in confusion.
-Igor, it’s necessary, I’ll cover you, you go away. If you all stay, we’ll all be killed.
Instead of answering, I carefully took aim at the militant walking in front and slowly pulled the trigger.
A short burst thundered deafeningly, the spirit was thrown onto his back, he fell into the icy water of a stream flowing through the gorge.
-Igor! – Van shouted. – Get the hell out of here already!
-It’s not time Vanya, the spirits are coming! – I shouted back.
The Czechs positioned themselves behind the cobblestones and fired hurricane fire at our pitiful position. I killed one more, Van two, but now they lay down and fired long bursts at us. I shot, shot back and shot again, bullets whistled around me, they crushed the stone, dug into the ground, throwing up fountains of earth.
Suddenly Vanya sighed quietly and convulsively jerked his foot along the ground.
-Vanya! Bro what’s wrong with you? Where did you get to??
Ven groaned through his teeth and croaked:
— In the shoulder, the sternum was caught.
He continued to shoot at the militants, pressing his left hand to the wound.
-Igor,” he wheezed, “go away.”. You have to get the boys out. I’ll cover you. Leave.
-No… Van… I can’t… – I answered in confusion – You’re like a brother to me..
-Igor, brother… stop it already! “They,” he shook his head towards the newcomers huddled in the ground, “will die without you, worse, they will simply be slaughtered.”. Do you want it?! Leave!
-I…
-FAST! Otherwise I’ll shoot you myself now! Went! You have a maximum of half an hour, during which time you must leave. Igor, goodbye. You are my best friend… You were, are and will remain so… Goodbye.
My heart was torn to pieces, but I decided:
-Bye, Van. I won’t forget.
We have reached our. By map. We wandered for a long time, but came out. Miraculously, nothing else. We were then asked about everything for a very long time, down to the smallest detail. The warriors sat and listened to my story. They, of course, sympathized with me, but many had a thought in the depths of their souls: “it’s good that this happened to him and not to me.”.
***
I sat and smoked cigarette after cigarette, mercilessly trampling the butts into the bottom of the ashtray. Based on my tip, the village was cleared and all the militants were killed. I volunteered to accompany the soldiers. But Vanya’s remains were never found. At the site of his last battle there was only a scattering of empty cartridges and blood stains.
I finished my cigarette.
Due to everything that happened, demobilization came earlier, and I had to go home in a week. Get out of this damned Chechnya. Who gave me my best friend and took him away. A friend whom I can’t even humanly bury.
But I will take revenge, Van.
Brother.
