Captivity
We stand somehow on the next slide. Then one demobilization summons me and says: "Today is a holiday - we have a hundred days before the order" (One hundred days before the order of dismissal. The order was signed annually on March 24 - Ed.) I: "So what?" - "Where is" char "?" (One of the names of cannabis, a narcotic drug from hemp. - Ed.). Me: "What" char "? There is no chars "!..". - “Give birth! Wherever you want to go: to another platoon or somewhere else. We took you to the battle! If you don’t give birth, you won’t go to battle anymore.” - "Will they see me?" - "It gets dark - go."
Actually, I already knew this scheme theoretically. On the walkie-talkie, the anasha was called either "Misha", then "Andrey". This is so that the officers who listened to our conversations do not understand what they are really talking about. To get to the second platoon, I give two tones (two short beeps on the radio. - Ed.). - "Yes". - "Guys, do you have Misha in your platoon?" - "No, we have no" Misha "." Well, okay … Third platoon: "Misha" is there? No. It turned out that they were in control of the battalion, they were standing on another hill. - “Guys, as it gets dark, I'll go up to you. Give me - I'll go right back."
It was six o'clock in the evening. Dembelem said that he went, and when it got dark, he began to descend. I went downstairs - it was already completely dark. To be honest, it was scary. I walked without a bulletproof vest. I was wearing a jacket with pockets - "experimental", she had just appeared. Above there is a "bra", there are three double magazines, four rocket launchers, two orange smoke bombs, four grenades. The fuses for the grenades were separate. There were times when a bullet hit a grenade. If the grenade was loaded, then it detonated. The bullet hit my demobilizer (defensive grenade F-1 - Ed.). When the bullet struck, he began to shout - to say goodbye to friends: "Tell your mom this and that, your sister - this and that!..". He was in great pain and thought he was dying. Then the doctor came running: “Where-where-where?!.”. - "Yes, it hurts here!" - "Yes, there is nothing here, just a square bruise!" The bullet hit the grenade, the grenade hit the plate of the body armor, and the plate - already in his chest. If the fuse had been screwed in, he would definitely have died. Then the demobilization showed us a bullet that got stuck between the teeth on the "shirt" of the grenade …
I went downstairs, then began to climb. He walked very slowly, carefully, listened attentively. Suddenly I see a fire smoldering at the entrance to the cave (a block of wood was burning, which can smolder all night without smoke), and people are sitting around this fire! At first I thought they were ours. But almost immediately I realized - not ours … They have not seen me yet.
How could I be so mistaken, confuse the direction and go straight to the "spirits"! But I was not very scared, I prepared for battle. He put down the machine gun, removed it from the fuse, the cartridge was already in the chamber. I screwed the fuses into the grenades. He took the "efka", opened the antennae, pulled out and threw away the ring. I saw no more than ten people there. They were about twenty meters away. I think: I'll throw a grenade and shoot the rest with a machine gun. Surely they have some cannabis, so I'll complete the demobilization task anyway.
As soon as I got ready, the thought came: I have never killed people so close. When you shoot at a distance, it is not clear whether you killed or not killed. Maybe the dushman just fell? And then the second thought: what if one of them went out of need and came in from behind? Just thought that, a machine gun from behind in my head - bam!.. And a scream!.. Immediately two more "spirits" ran up - bearded, with machine guns. There are caps on the head, which are wrapped upward with the edges.
They grabbed me, dragged me to the cave and threw me inside. I didn't even have time to get scared, there was some kind of shock. But the machine gun instinctively grabbed it with my left hand, with the other hand I firmly hold the grenade - the ring had been pulled out! I see the elder sitting on a stone in the corner. He said something - two people came to me with ropes, they were going to tie. One takes up my machine gun - and I raise a grenade without a ring! I was about to quit when the elder began to say something quickly and showed me: quietly, quietly, quietly, do not … The stunned "spirits" recoiled back. The four of us were inside the cave, the rest were outside.
They told me: "Shuravi?" - "Yes, shuravi." They started talking to me, but I don't understand anything in Afghan! They say, they say, I don't understand. And at some point I realized that I was finished, I definitely can't get out of here … I'll have to detonate the grenade with me. This thought led me to such a wild horror!.. I'm only nineteen years old! And really it’s the end of me!.. And I immediately noticed that here my thoughts somehow took a different path.
Time stopped. I thought very clearly and distinctly. Before I died, I found myself in some other space and time. I think it's best to die at nineteen. Sooner or later, I’m going to die anyway. I will be an old man, some sort of sick, and in general, in life, there will certainly be difficulties. Better to die now.
And then I remembered about the cross under the buttonhole. This thought began to warm me very much. There was some kind of hope not for physical salvation, but that I could turn to God. And he turned to God mentally: “Lord, I'm scared! Take away my fear, help me blow up a grenade! It was very scary to be blown up …
After that, thoughts of repentance came. I began to think: “Lord, I'm only nineteen years old. You'd better take me now. Now I have few sins, I am not married, I was not friends with girls. I haven't done anything particularly bad in my life. And for what you did, forgive me! And suddenly I felt God as close as I had never felt in my life. He was literally over the cave. And at that moment, time stopped. The feeling was this: as if I was already on the next world with one foot, and on this one with the other.
And then some things were revealed that I had never thought about in my life. I immediately understood what the meaning of life is. I think: “What is the most important thing in life? Build a house? No. Bury your parents? Also no. Plant a tree? It doesn't matter either. Marry, give birth to children? No. Work? Also no. Money? It's even strange to think about it - of course not. No, no, no … And then I felt that the most important thing, the most precious thing in life is life itself. And I thought: “Lord, I don't need anything in my life! No money, no power, no awards, no army titles, nothing material. How nice it is to just live!"
And suddenly it flashed in my head: if I detonate a grenade, then the demobilizer will think that I ran away to the spooks! They tortured me, although they did not beat me much. - “Lord, everything is possible for You! Make sure that the demobilization does not think so! Lord, and one more request! Have my body found. To be buried at home, in our cemetery. It will be much easier for Mom when she knows that this is my body in a coffin, and not bricks. She will definitely feel it. She will come to the cemetery, cry … I have three more sisters, there will be consolation all the same. And I felt a kind of inexplicable calmness. Such correct thoughts to me, a very young guy, came into my head, it's just amazing.
And at that moment a guy of about sixteen came, "bacha". His "spirits" were summoned from somewhere. It turned out that he lived for a year or two in the Union, in Kuibyshev (now the city of Samara. - Ed.), And spoke Russian. They began to ask through him where I came from, where I serve. The answer is - in Kabul, in the airborne troops. Here we are on the battlefield. They ask where I come from. The answer is that from the city of Saransk. Boy: "Oh, it's not far from Kuibyshev!" Me: "Yes, side by side." They ask: "How did you come here?" - “I went to another platoon for the“chars”. - "Why why?!.". - “We have a holiday for demobels, they should celebrate it. It is customary for us to celebrate with vodka, but there is no vodka. Therefore, they celebrate in this way. " They laughed. Senior ordered - someone went and brought "char". The piece is large, about the size of an orange. Outwardly, it looks like goya paste, dark green in color, to the touch, like plasticine, only harder.
(I myself have never smoked cannabis, neither before nor after. But more than once I saw how, after three puffs, a person goes out and becomes insane for at least an hour. "About the Chukchi!" I begin: "There is a Chukchi in the desert. And suddenly the helicopter flew by. And he will run back to his aul! Shouts: I saw, I saw, I saw! The whole village gathered - well, what did you see? Well Do you know an orange? I know. It’s not like that at all! "And the demobilization laughed at this for half an hour! We were literally lying around, it’s just a circus that was horse-drawn! Then again:" Come on! "And as soon as I start:“The Chukchi went … "They: ha-ha-ha!.. For six months I told the demobels this anecdote.)
The "spirits" say: "We told our own that we had taken a captive." I answer: “I will not surrender to captivity. I have a grenade without a ring, I will explode with you. I know how the captivity will end, I saw our corpses”. They talked, talked among themselves. Then they ask: "What do you suggest?" - "I suggest … Maybe let me go?..". - "But you came to kill us?" - "Yes. But I will not surrender. I haven’t killed anyone yet, I’ve only been here for a month and a half.”
The spooks consulted a little more, then the elder says: “Okay, we'll let you go. But on condition: we give you "chars", and you give me your jacket. " (The dushman liked the jacket because it was an "experimental."
I say: “You can have a jacket. Just step back. I have a submachine gun in one hand, a grenade in the other. I was still afraid that spooks might rush at me while dressing. I put the machine down, carefully pulled one hand out of the sleeve, then the other with a grenade. He acted with caution, but there was a feeling that he was in some kind of prostration. I had no real fear. When I asked: “Lord, take away the fear! I am afraid to blow up a grenade,”the Lord took my fear away from me. And at that moment I realized that ninety-nine and nine-tenths of a percent of a person consists of fear. And we take on this fear ourselves, as if we are smearing ourselves with dirt. I felt that this is what makes us sick. And if there is no fear, then the person is completely different.
I gave my jacket to the elder, he immediately put it on. Everyone praised the jacket, but they told me: "You are a real shuravi, khubasti-khubasti (good. - Ed.)." The elder says: “That's it, we're letting you go. Here's a char, here's some sweets. They even poured tea for me. But he didn't drink tea - what if they poison him?
And they really gave me candy! There are also handkerchiefs measuring thirty by thirty centimeters, on them embroidery in the form of a hand with a finger and something written in Arabic. And also oval stickers, ten centimeters in size. There is also a hand and an inscription.
They say: "We let you go, but leave the machine gun." I answer: “I won't give you a machine gun. I signed for him, for the loss of a submachine gun for four years of "disbat" (disciplinary battalion. - Ed.) ". “Okay, you don't need a machine gun. We don't even have such cartridges, 5, 45. Come on with the rocket launcher! " - "This is please." He pulled out four and gave it away. - “You can go, we will let you go. Dawn is coming."
He put everything they gave me into his pocket, got up and without fear, completely, as if we were sitting at a table with friends, went to the exit. He bent down and left the cave. Ahead there is a platform, probably ten meters in length. "Spirits" wave their hand - you are there, you came from there!..
For the first seconds I didn't think about anything. But as soon as I walked about five meters, as if I woke up!.. There was such fear, just as if some kind of lightning struck me! First thought: what a fool I am, they will shoot in the back now! The thought immediately struck me with a cold sweat, a trickle flowed down my back. I think: they even took off their jacket so as not to perforate! I stopped … I really felt these bullets in me, it seemed to me that they were already shooting! I decided to turn my face so that they would not shoot in the back. He turned: and they were waving to me - there and there!..
He turned back and seemed to grab the thread of God's hope. “Lord, please! You almost saved me! There are only five meters left. Lord, everything is possible for you! Make the bullets fly by! " I'm walking, but the feeling is that they will still shoot! There are three meters left. I could not resist, turned around: the spooks are waving their hands - go-go, there-there!.. - “Lord, you almost saved me! Three meters left … Please, save me! " And how he leapt into the darkness!
I went down and began to climb. At first I wanted to throw out the grenade, but I realized that if I threw the grenade, they would finish off their own from the grenade launchers. So he went on with a grenade. He got up very carefully - as if they did not start shooting. And in Afghanistan, after all, it's like: dark-dark-dark … And as soon as the sun comes out, bam - and immediately light! Literally five to ten minutes - and a day!
I hear: "Stop, password!" I gave the password, there were some numbers. - "Is that you, or what?!.". I get up, so joyful. Dembelya ran up and in my nine hands - bam-bam-bam!.. Me: “Quiet, I have a grenade in my hand! It will explode now! " They are - to the side! (It turned out that they really decided that I had escaped to the dushmans! Everyone was questioned a hundred times - I am nowhere to be found. And they got scared - they realized that they could get hit in the neck for this case. And then I returned. - “Oh, you came back !.. We were so worried about you!.. "And indeed - instead of celebrating a hundred days before the order, they did not sleep all night! nothing.) I say: "Beware, my fingers are numb!". Some are holding the grenade, the other fingers bend back. Finally the grenade was pulled out and thrown somewhere. The grenade exploded - the platoon leader woke up. Came out: “What are you doing here? Who threw the grenade? " - “We thought that the“spirits”were crawling! We decided to bang. " It seems to be believed.
Dembelya: “That's it, you’re just a lid! We won't give you life! And I'm still happy that I stayed alive!
Then the order comes: to go down to the other side of the mountain, to the armor. And I am in a vest, a tunic and a hat, nothing else is on me. It's cold … The platoon leader asks: "Where is the jacket?" “I don’t know. I put it somewhere, and she got lost. " - “Where did you get lost? The site is one - everything is at a glance! Do you think I'm a fool? " - "No". - "Well, where is she?" - "There is not…". I won't tell him that I gave the jacket to the muck. Moreover, here we had a political officer for the platoon commander, the commander was being treated for hepatitis at that time. He: “We’ll come to the base, I’ll show you!”. And I'm still glad that I returned alive from the spooks! Well, he will beat, well, it's okay … After all, for the cause. And in general, if the spooks told me: “Choose: either we will kill you, or they will beat you for a month to demobilize,” I would still choose demobels.
We went down, sat on the armor, went to the fourth stage. Like an unreliable machine gun, they took it away from me. The main demobilization says to me: “Well, that's it, you’re covered! We were so worried about you! We will never hire you for military service, you will be a rookie until the end of the service. " - "So you yourself sent me for the hash!" - “So we sent you for the cannabis, and not somewhere! Where were you?". - "I'll tell you now." And he told everything in detail - the commander did not hear, he was driving in another car. - “Here are the handkerchiefs, here are the stickers, here are the sweets, here is the marijuana …”. I unfold and show. He: "So this is dushmanskaya!" - "Of course! I tell you that I was with the "spirits"! I gave them the pea jacket, took the cannabis”. He said to me: "Shaitan!..". I answer: "I am not a shaitan!" (I knew what this word meant. As a child, my grandmother even forbade us to pronounce the name "black". and you rock it. ")
Dembel was shocked! Says: "You will be in my three!". Me: "As you say." He was a very strong guy. His name was Umar. This is his nickname by the name of Umarov. And his name is Delhi. Outwardly - just a double of Bruce Lee! He became a real patron for me. Of course, he chased me like a sidorov goat, but he never beat me and protected me from everyone! (Umar strictly forbade me to tell anyone about the story of the captivity, but then he blabbed himself. Dembelya, after all, when they get stoned, they boast about how smart they are. Umar listened, listened and said: “Here I have a young man - in general ! On the battlefield I say to him: "char" is needed! He went to the dushmans, he took the "char" from them and brought it to me! This is a magician! "And soon the whole regiment learned about this story.)
In the end, ours decided not to take the "green", but launched all the artillery ammunition there. We returned to Kandahar itself, from there again by plane - to our place in Kabul.
Guard
Just returned from Kandahar - immediately on guard. I was assigned to guard the car park. Behind the park there is a barbed wire, then the field and after four or five hundred meters houses begin, this is already the outskirts of Kabul.
The sentry has to walk along the wire like a target (and the "spirits" fired here from time to time). It was late December, and it was cold at night. He put on a pea jacket, a bulletproof vest, a machine gun on top. I walk like a huge makiwara (in karate a simulator for practicing strikes. - Ed.), It is simply impossible not to get into such a person. I walked and walked - I think: “It is dangerous … We must move away from the wire. Even though I'm not a demobilizer, I don't really want to loom back and forth. " I already walk between the cars. I'm going … Suddenly - boom, something hit me! I open my eyes and lie on the ground. That is, I fell asleep while walking and fell. He stood up: "How is this ?!" Well, okay, I would lie and fall asleep. But I was walking! I go-go-go again. It's getting so good, warm-warm-warm … Bam - I'm lying on the ground again. Jumped up, already ran. Warm-warm-warm, as if plunged into warm water … Boom - again on the ground! Realized that I had already fallen asleep on the run. I threw out my pea jacket, bulletproof vest. But already in one tunic I fell asleep on the run! I got up - I hit myself on the back with a machine gun! And he began to run with all his might in a circle. I feel here - like I woke up.
And suddenly I heard: “Vitiok! It's me, "Falcon"! I have “detsl” and biscuits. Let's grab! ". The whole company is dressed up, my friend ended up in the dining room. And "detsl" is a can of condensed milk, one hundred and forty grams. In principle, in Afghanistan, we were given condensed milk every morning, it was poured into coffee. But those who were in attire in the dining room, of the forty-two cans that were put on the regiment, scribbled half for themselves. Everyone knew about it, but no one even grumbled. Everyone understood that the outfit for the dining room was the most difficult, you didn't sleep for a day.
We climbed into the cab of the KAMAZ. We managed to dip the biscuits into the condensed milk one time, and then they folded like a house head to head - both passed out …
The guard came - I’m not! Everyone was very scared when they saw that I was missing. After all, the "spirits" could enter the park and drag me away. This is "flying"! We searched for forty minutes, but they were afraid to report.. After all, if I have to figure it out, it will become clear why I fell asleep. I defended my two hours. Then demobilization comes: "Now you stand for me for two hours!" Two hours later, my main demobilization, Umar, came already: "So, you stand for me for two hours!" I defended myself for six hours - my shift has already come, I stand for myself for two hours. That is, I stood all night and therefore passed out completely in the morning.
Woke up from the blows. Asleep, I can't understand what is happening: they beat me with my hands, feet, but not in the face, but how they knock out the mattress. Here the most ferocious demobilization wanted to beat me for real. But Umar said: “What are you, stunned, do not touch! He stood for eight hours."
Special department
After a while, I was summoned to a special department - to deal with my trip to the dushmans near Kandahar. They threatened to initiate a criminal case against me. Before that, the regiment commander invited me: “Look, they can break it! Don't be injected - they want to recognize our regiment as the best airborne regiment. If anything, I will pull you out of there for combat."
And it turned out that on the fighting I was resting. They returned, cleaned their weapons, went to the bathhouse, watched a movie - the next day I went to a special department. Special officers frightened with a guardhouse, a prison: “Come on, inject, how did you visit the dushmans!”. - "What dushmans have?"- “Soldier, tell me how many dushmans there were, how many“chars”he brought! Who sent you? " And I had to say that there was nothing. Before that, the demobilization was threatened: "Look, don't split!" Indeed, if I told everything as it really was, then the demobels would have very big problems. But I would definitely have a lid.
Six months passed, the first special officer left for the Soviet Union, the case was transferred to another. And the second major turned out to be my fellow countryman from Saransk. He invited me: "Listen," zyoma "! Everyone is talking about it. Well, tell me, it’s interesting!”. Me: “Comrade Major, do you want to buy for a penny? Even if you arrest me, you can even shoot me - nothing happened. It's funny how it could be? Let us surrender you in a paratrooper vest and see what is left of you! Maybe an ear or something else … ". He was so angry! There were rumors that he was hypnotic, so I didn't look him in the eye. He: "Look me in the eye!" Me: “Why should I look in them? Are they beautiful, or what?.. ". Of course, I risked talking to him like that. What was there to do ?! Then I found myself between three fires: on the one hand, the demobilization, which they sent me for the marijuana, on the other hand, the regiment commander says - do not inject! And the special officer demands: inject! So I was saved from this situation by a miracle.
And the regiment commander saved me, as promised. They call the special officer: this is our sniper, he is very much needed for combat. But as soon as I return from the mountains - all over again. (By the way, our regiment commander is now the deputy commander of the Airborne Forces, General Borisov. I would very much like to meet with him and thank him.)
I think that the special officers first of all wanted to punish the soldiers who sent me for the cannabis. The major spoke to me very harshly. And then he somehow says: "Okay," zyoma. " We'll close the case. Can you tell us how it was? " Me: “Comrade Major, let's do it! We will return home to Saransk, we will supply vodka, we will have a drink, we will sit, and we will eat a barbecue. Then I'll tell you. It was interesting, just awful! But here, forgive me, I will say: there was nothing”.
This major turned out to be a decent man. When he left for the Union, he asks me: "Maybe something to pass on to my relatives?" I asked to give them an "Afghan woman" (a special form of clothing. - Ed.), I myself would hardly have been able to smuggle her across the border. But we were alerted, and I asked my comrade to take my "Afghan woman" to a special officer. He took it, but another, size fifty-six! My sister later said that a major came to her in Saransk and gave her an Afghan woman. But when I took it in my hands at home, it turned out to be a huge robe of some kind! I think, sly crest! Kutsenko is his last name. But I don't hold a grudge against him. May God forgive him.
Charikar, Pagman, Lagar
Just a few days after returning from Kandahar, just before the New Year, we were told that we had to go to the points again. It seems like the "spirits" are going to shell Kabul for the New Year. We drove to the Charikar Valley, from there to Pagman. Then they drove us into the mountains. We took a large tent, and as a young man I was given to carry it. Me: “Why me? Is there no one else? " Dembelya: "If you want to go to war with us, take it and carry it. If not, you will remain on the armor." If I refused to carry the tent, this would be my last exit.
They put my tent on top of my backpack. I walk up the hill and feel that I am already barely alive. And he walked only about three hundred meters. It was also hard mentally: I didn’t know about my capabilities, how much I could endure at all. (Before that, I saw a guy from my platoon, to whom the strap of his backpack pulled something over his shoulder, and his arm became numb. He spent two or three months in the hospital. There his hand completely dried up, he became disabled.
Dembel Umar stopped: “Well, stop! You're going to die now! You breathe wrong. " We sat with him for about five minutes, he gave me two pieces of refined sugar. He says: “Now come on with me - evenly, without haste. Went. Let them run. They won't run far anyway, don't worry."
We moved on. But I am still afraid that I will not stand it. And to withstand was the most important thing for me! And then I remembered the words of the commander of the training regiment: “If it’s hard for you, it’s even harder for others. You are morally stronger. Such words oblige … If he really thought so, then I must definitely endure! And I set myself a goal: even if it is unbearably difficult, I will bite my hand, but I will hold on.
Walked, walked, walked … And suddenly huge forces appeared, a second wind. I heard a lot about this, but in fact it turned out that it opens much faster when you are carrying heavy weights. Literally five hundred meters later, the breathing apparatus started working like a clock. And my legs are normal! And I went, went, went!.. One overtook, the second, the third. As a result, he climbed the mountain first.
We climbed to a height of one thousand six hundred meters. As soon as we spread the tent, sat down to eat … Then the command: to climb higher! But it was no longer for me to carry the tent. We walked about ten hours and climbed three thousand two hundred meters.
After this incident, I often took additional load. The commander asks: "Who will carry the additional mines?" Nobody wants. I say: "Come on me." Of course, I took risks. But I wanted to prove that I can. And the demobilization immediately drew attention to this and began to treat me better: they did not beat me, practically did not touch me at all. Although it was for what! In the mountains, after all, anything can happen: I looked in the wrong place or, worse, fell asleep. And this is the only way a young soldier falls asleep! You stand there, you don't want to sleep at all. I looked back and forth. Suddenly - boom!.. A blow from demobilization came. It turns out that you are already asleep. There is no boundary at all between sleep and wakefulness.
When we were still driving along the Chirikar valley and drove into the foothills, snow began to fall in flakes. Around the clay is slimy, all dirty! When I see a video from Chechnya, I always remember this picture.
We stretched out a tent for spending the night. In the tent "Polaris" (a stove made of a tank sleeve. - Ed.) Is standing, warm … The guys throw a bulletproof vest on the ground, a winter sleeping bag on top - they sleep like that. While I was doing something, I come, but there is no room in the tent! Dembelya: "Well, get out of here!" - "Where should I sleep?" - “Your personal problems. Go sleep in armor. " - "There is iron all around, beater!" - "Your problems". What to do is unclear …
I went and opened the BMP. And our car, half a meter off the floor, was packed with sacks of onions, we somehow took it from the "spirits". Red-blue onions are delicious and sweet. We fried it with buckwheat (I still do this at home).
The hatch closed, put the bulletproof vest on the bags, climbed into his sleeping bag and went to bed. Suddenly I wake up from a roar - melons-melons-melons-melons! - "Open it !!!" I get out of the BMP, I ask: "What happened?" I looked - they were demobilized, everyone was wet! It turned out that they dug a hole under the tent, and lay in rows in it. And at night it started to rain, and the water into this pit leveled so badly that it flooded twenty centimeters from the bottom. We slept soundly, so when we woke up, everyone was already wet. Umar to me: “You are the most cunning! Give me your clothes! " - "So you yourself drove me here!" I gave Umar my dry clothes, but did not completely put them on when wet.
Here the team - all for combat. Umar to me - you stay here! Why me?". - “I am the senior of the group. He said - stay! ". Well, okay, he's demobilized. I stay, then I stay. They went to the mountains, and I was so upset …
But I was lucky again. They went upstairs, and there is snow! And then frost hit, twenty degrees. They were kept in the mountains for two days. Snow flooded them, I had to dig holes in the snow and sleep in them. Someone even froze. But he got frostbitten not because he went in wet clothes, the clothes on them quickly dried out. Muscles, when they work, give such warmth! (The demobilization taught me to strain all the muscles for twenty seconds. Then you release the muscles - and steam comes down from you! It's hot, as if I was steaming in a bath.)
When they returned, they were terribly angry: "Who needed it!" There was no war with the dushmans. But on the way back, they saw on the neighboring ridge some ragamuffins who were walking without backpacks. We began to fight with them, and it turned out to be our own infantry! While they figured out, they managed to kill two infantrymen and injure two.
The demobilization says to me: "Listen, you are so cunning!" - “Yes, I wanted to go! You didn't take me yourself. " He: “Take off your clothes! Take yours, wet … ".
Chmoshniki
After the fighting we stopped at Bagram, spent the night, and from there we returned to Kabul. In Bagram, I met a friend from my studies. I looked - near the "bulldozer" (in Afghanistan this was the name of the regimental cafe, in Gayzhunai it was usually called "buldyr") a kid who looked like a homeless person was sitting and eating a loaf of bread from the end. He pulls out the pulp, breaks it and slowly eats it. I went to a cafe, took something. I went out, I pass by - like a familiar face. He came up - he jumped up: "Hello, Vityok!". Me: "Is that you?.. And why are you sitting here like a" chmoshnik "?" - "Yes, so I wanted to eat." - “Why are you eating here? Sit down even on the step, otherwise you hid in the corner. " He: "It's okay!" It was the same guy from Minsk whose mother was the director of a confectionery factory.
And only then the guys from our training, who ended up in the 345th regiment in Bagram, said that he was really a "chmoshnik" (in army jargon - untidy, not taking care of himself, unable to stand up for himself. Abbreviation for "a person morally backward.”- Ed.). I didn't think that I would get to Afghan, but I did. And he was so killed there! I even felt sorry for him. Although in training I did not like him: after all, I had to carry the personal one on crosses and marches all the time literally on myself, he tortured me completely.
And the story with this guy ended in failure. The deputy commander of their regiment, my fellow countryman, told me about this later. In the 345th regiment there was a "flight": a PKT machine gun (Kalashnikov tank machine gun - Ed.) Was stolen from the BMP-2. It looks like it was sold to dushmans. But who needs it? This is no ordinary machine gun with a stock. Of course, you can shoot manually from the PKT. But this is a tank machine gun, it normally shoots through an electric trigger.
They searched and found out inside the regiment so that the matter would not go further - they would give it in the neck! But they never found it. Then, on the armor, we drove to the village and announced over the loudspeaker: “The machine gun is missing. Whoever returns will be greatly rewarded. " A boy came and said: “I was sent to say that there is a machine gun. We bought it. " - "How much money do you want?" - "So much." - "When will you bring it?" - "Tomorrow. Money up front". - “No, now - only half. The rest is tomorrow. If you leave with the money and don’t return the machine gun, we will level the village to the ground”.
The next day, the boy returned the machine gun. Ours: "We'll give more money, just show me who sold it." Two hours later, everyone who was in the park was lined up. The Afghan boy showed - this one, blond. It turned out that the machine gun was sold by the son of the director of the confectionery factory. He got it for five years.
At that time, there was only about a month left to serve him … He had no money, everything was taken away from him. And he wanted to return home with a normal demobilization. After all, "chmoshniks" were sent to demobilization as "chmoshniks": they were given a dirty beret, the same vest. They got into "chmoshniki" for various reasons. In our platoon, for example, there was a cross-fire guy. Our people got surrounded. We were shooting back. The wounded appeared. And then a helicopter came to them, but only for the wounded. The wounded were loaded. And then the guy ran to the side, wrapped his leg with something and shot. And I saw this demobilization!
The crossbow was from our call, but we did not even communicate with him. After all, paratroopers are paratroopers, no one likes injustice. If I plow and do everything right, and the other takes time off, does not want to do anything, then slowly that one becomes a "chmoshnik". Usually these were sent to some bakery or to carry coal. They did not even appear in the company. In our company we had one such from Yaroslavl, the other from Moscow. The first was a bread slicer, he cut bread for the whole regiment, and the other was stoked by the boiler room. They did not even come to spend the night in the company - they were afraid that the dismissal would be beaten. Both lived like this: one in a stoker, the other in a bread slicer.
Tragedy struck the one who heated the boiler room. Once he went to the grain-grower, who gave him bread. And this was seen by the warrant officer, who was the senior in the dining room. The ensign was very boring, he gave almost no bread to anyone. The ensign took the bread from the stoker, put it on the table and gave it to the guy in the "melon"! He fled to his stoker. After some time he felt bad, he went to the doctor. The doctor saw another soldier, he says - sit down. The guy felt really bad … Suddenly he lost his sight. The doctor took him to his place and began to ask: "So what happened, tell me?" He managed to tell that his warrant officer hit him in the dining room … And - he died … He had a cerebral hemorrhage.
The ensign was immediately pecked: “Who are you yourself? You don’t go to the military”. Although he was not imprisoned, he was transferred somewhere. It was a specific "flight". How to hide such a case? And they awarded the deceased guy the Order of the Red Star posthumously. Of course, the guy himself was sorry. His mother, the director of the school, then wrote us letters: “Guys, write what a feat my son has accomplished! They want to name the school after him. " We think to ourselves like a soldier: wow! Such a "chmoshnik", and the school is named after him! This is how it happened: many of us could have been killed in combat a hundred times, but we survived. And he avoided difficulties, and so everything ended tragically for him.
There was also one "chmoshnik". His name was Andrey. He wrote poetry. Once after Afgan, my friends and I met on the day of the Airborne Forces at VDNKh. I stand, waiting for my people. I see - some guy is standing, paratroopers who have not served in Afghanistan are crowded around. And he says so pompously: we are there this, that, that!.. I listened, listened - well, I don’t like the way he talks. And then I recognized him! "Andrey! It's you?!.". He saw me - and ran away with a bullet. They ask me: "Who is he?" - "No matter".
He was morally weak, he could not stand the battle. Therefore, they left him in the company, they did not take him anywhere. And on top of that, he didn’t take care of himself: every day he had to be hemmed - he wasn’t hemmed. And he didn't wash at all, he walked dirty.
We ourselves constantly kept ourselves in order, we washed our clothes. On the street, under the regimental washbasin (these are pipes twenty-five meters long with holes), there is a concrete hollow through which water flows down. You put your clothes there, smeared it with a brush - shirk-shirk, shirk-shirk. Turned over - the same thing. Then I washed the brush and use it to remove the soap from the clothes. I washed it, called someone, twisted it together, ironed it with my hands - and put it on myself. In the summer, in the sun, everything dries up in ten minutes.
And Andrey did not wash these clothes at all. Forced - it's useless. But he wrote good poetry. They come from the military, demobilize him: “My girlfriend's birthday is coming soon. Come on, think of something Afghan: war, helicopter planes, mountains, love-carrots, wait for me, I'll be back soon …”. Andrey: "I can't do that!" - "Why can not you?". - "I need a special condition …". - “Ah, imagination! Now I will give you imagination! ". And takes the boot. Andrey: "Everything, everything, everything … Now it will be!" And then he composes the necessary verses.
He was a creepy lazy person, he fell asleep everywhere. Already being a demobilizer, I was in the attire of the company, he is with me. It is clear that demobilization is not worth the orderly in the company, there are young people for this. I come - he is not on the bedside table. And this nightstand is the first in the battalion. The battalion commander arrives: "Where is the orderly?!." I run out sleepy: "I!". - "Who is on duty?" - "I AM". - "And who is the orderly then?" - "I ran away to the toilet." - "Why didn’t they put anyone in?" - "Because I'm an idiot, I guess …". I had to say something. - "Get up yourself!" Here everything began to boil for me: there is a huge difference between those who go to the fighting in the mountains, and those who do not. It seems that all this is the Airborne Forces, but it is different, like the infantry and pilots. Some in the mountains are constantly at risk, but on the armor, the risk is much less. And I have to stand on the bedside table!..
I found him: "Are you sleeping?!.". He: "No, I'm resting …". And zero emotions, sleeping for myself … (Probably, I slept in the same way when I fell asleep on the run at the post after Kandahar.) I punched him with some kind of boot: "Well, quickly on the nightstand!..". And literally kicked him into the corridor.
