On June 1, 1995, we replenish our ammunition and move to Kirov-Yurt. Ahead is a tank with a mine sweep, then "shilki" (self-propelled anti-aircraft installation. - Ed.) And a battalion column of armored personnel carriers, I - on the head. The task was set to me as follows: the column stops, the battalion turns around, and I storm the 737 skyscraper near the Makhkets.
Just before the skyscraper (about a hundred meters left) we were fired upon by a sniper. Three bullets whizzed past me. On the radio they shout: "It hits you, it hits you!..". But the sniper didn't hit me for another reason: usually the commander sits not in the commander's seat, but above the driver. And this time I deliberately sat down in the commander's place. And although we had an order to remove the stars from the epaulettes, I did not remove my stars. The battalion commander made remarks to me, and I told him: "Fuck off … I'm an officer and I'm not going to shoot stars." (Indeed, in the Great Patriotic War, even on the forefront, officers with stars went.)
We go to Kirov-Yurt. And we see a completely unreal picture, as if from an old fairy tale: the water mill is working … I command - increase the speed! I looked - to the right about fifty meters below there was a ruined house, the second or third from the beginning of the street. Suddenly a boy of ten or eleven years old runs out of it. I give the command to the convoy: "Do not shoot!..". And then the boy throws a grenade at us! The pomegranate hits the poplar. (I remember well that it was double, diverged with a slingshot.) The grenade ricochets off, falls under the boy and tears him apart …
And the "dushars" were cunning! They come to the village, and there they are not given food! Then they fire a volley from this village in the direction of the Group. The group, naturally, is responsible for this village. On this basis, one can determine: if a village is destroyed, it means that it is not “spiritual”, but if it is whole, then theirs. Here Agishty, for example, were almost completely destroyed.
The "turntables" are hovering over the Makhkets. Aviation passes from above. The battalion begins to deploy. Our company is marching forward. We assumed that we would most likely not meet organized resistance and that there could only be ambushes. We went to the high-rise. There were no "ghosts" on it. Stopped to determine where to stand.
From above it was clearly visible that the houses in Makhetes were intact. Moreover, here and there were real palaces with towers and columns. It was evident from everything that they were built recently. On the way, I remembered the following picture: a large rural house of good quality, near it stands a grandmother with a little white flag …
Soviet money was still in use in Makhkets. The locals told us: “Since 1991, our children have not gone to school, there are no kindergartens, and no one receives a pension. We are not against you. Thank you, of course, for ridding us of the militants. But you also have to go home. This is literal.
The locals immediately began to treat us with compotes, but we were wary. The aunt, the head of the administration, says: "Don't be afraid, you see - I drink." Me: "No, let the man drink." As I understand it, there was a triarchy in the village: the mullah, the elders and the head of the administration. Moreover, this aunt was the head of the administration (she graduated from a technical school in St. Petersburg at one time).
On June 2, this "chapter" comes running to me: "Yours are robbing ours!" Before that, of course, we walked through the courtyards: we looked at what kind of people they were, whether there was a weapon. We follow her and see an oil painting: representatives of our largest law enforcement structure take out carpets and all that jazz from the palaces with columns. Moreover, they arrived not in armored personnel carriers, which they usually drove, but in infantry fighting vehicles. Moreover, we changed clothes for the infantry … I so marked their senior - major! And he said: "Appear here again - I will kill!..". They did not even try to resist, they were instantly blown away like a wind … And to the locals I said: “Write on all houses -“Economy of Vietnam”. DKBF ". And the next day these words were written on every fence. The battalion commander even took offense at me about this …
At the same time, near Vedeno, our troops captured a convoy of armored vehicles, about a hundred units - infantry fighting vehicles, tanks and BTR-80. The funniest thing was that the armored personnel carrier with the inscription "Baltic Fleet", which we received from the Group on the first trip, was in this column! under the Vietnamese hieroglyph … On the front on the dashboard it was written: "Freedom for the Chechen people!" and "God and the St. Andrew's flag are with us!"
We dug in thoroughly. And they started on June 2, and already finished on 3 in the morning. We appointed landmarks, sectors of fire, agreed with the mortars. And by the morning of the next day, the company was completely ready for battle. Then we only expanded and strengthened our positions. During our entire stay here, my fighters never sat down. All day we settled down: we dug trenches, connected them with communication trenches, built dugouts. They made a real pyramid for weapons, surrounded everything around with boxes of sand. We continued to dig in until we left these positions. We lived according to the Charter: getting up, exercising, morning divorce, guards. The soldiers regularly cleaned their shoes …
Above me I hung the St. Andrew's flag and a home-made "Vietnamese" flag made from a Soviet pennant for the "Leader of Socialist Competition". We must remember what it was during the time: the collapse of the state, some bandit groups against others … Therefore, I did not see the Russian flag anywhere, but everywhere there was either the St. Andrew's flag or the Soviet one. The infantry generally flew with red flags. And the most valuable thing in this war was - a friend and comrade are nearby, and nothing else.
The "spirits" were well aware of how many people I had. But apart from shelling, they no longer dared to do anything. After all, the “spirits” had a task not to die heroically for their Chechen homeland, but to account for the money received, so they simply did not meddle where they would most likely be killed.
And on the radio comes a message that near Selmenhausen, militants attacked an infantry regiment. Our losses are more than a hundred people. I was with the infantry and saw what kind of organization they had there, unfortunately. After all, every second soldier there was taken prisoner not in battle, but because they got into the habit of stealing chickens from local residents. Although the guys themselves were humanly quite understandable: there was nothing to eat … They were seized by these local residents to stop this theft. And then they called: "Take your own people, but only so that they no longer come to us."
Our team is not to go anywhere. And how not to go anywhere, when we are constantly fired upon, and various "shepherds" from the mountains come. We hear the neighing of horses. We walked around constantly, but I did not report anything to the battalion commander.
Local "walkers" began to come to me. I told them: we go here, but we don’t go there, we do this, but we don’t do this … After all, we were constantly fired upon from one of the palaces by a sniper. We, of course, fired back from everything that we had in that direction. Somehow Isa, a local "authority", comes: "I was asked to say …". I told him: "As long as they shoot at us from there, we will also hammer." (A little later we made a sortie in that direction, and the question of shelling from that direction was closed.)
Already on June 3, in the middle gorge, we find a field mined "spiritual" hospital. It was evident that the hospital had recently been operating - blood was visible all around. The "perfume" equipment and medicines were thrown away. I have never seen such a medical luxury at all … Four gasoline generators, water tanks, connected by pipelines … Shampoos, one-time shaving machines, blankets … And what medicines were there!.. Our doctors were just crying with envy. Blood substitutes - made in France, Holland, Germany. Dressings, surgical threads. And we really didn't have anything except promedol (an anesthetic - Ed.). The conclusion suggests itself - what forces are thrown against us, what finances!.. And what does the Chechen people have to do with it?..
I got there first, so I chose what was most valuable to me: bandages, disposable sheets, blankets, kerosene lamps. Then he called the colonel of the medical service and showed all this wealth. His reaction is the same as mine. He simply fell into a trance: stitching materials for the vessels of the heart, the most modern medicines … After that we were in direct contact with him: he asked me to let you know if I could find anything else. But I had to contact him for a completely different reason.
There was a tap near the Bas river, from where the locals took water, so we drank this water without fear. We drive up to the crane, and then one of the elders stops us: “Commander, help! We are in trouble - a woman gives birth to a sick woman. " The elder spoke with a heavy accent. A young guy was standing next to him as a translator, suddenly something would be incomprehensible. Nearby I see foreigners in jeeps from the Doctors Without Borders mission, like the Dutch in conversation. I go to them - help! They: "Nah … We only help the rebels." I was so taken aback by their answer that I didn't even know how to react. I called the medical colonel over the radio: "Come, we need help with childbirth." He immediately arrived on the "pill" with one of his own. Seeing the woman in labor, he said: "I thought you were joking …".
They put the woman in a "pill". She looked scary: all yellow … She was not giving birth for the first time, but, probably, there were some complications due to hepatitis. The colonel took delivery himself, and gave the child to me and began to put some kind of droppers on the woman. Out of habit, it seemed to me that the child looked very creepy … I wrapped him in a towel and held him in my arms until the colonel was free. This is the story that happened to me. I didn’t think, I didn’t guess that I would participate in the birth of a new citizen of Chechnya.
Since the beginning of June, somewhere at TPU, a cooker worked, but hot food practically did not reach us - we had to eat dry rations and pasture. (I taught the fighters to diversify the ration of dry rations - stew for the first, second and third - at the expense of pasture. Tarragon herb was brewed like tea. You could cook soup from rhubarb. And if you add grasshoppers there, such a rich soup turns out, and protein again And before, when we were in Germenchug, we saw many hares around. You walk with a machine gun behind your back - then a hare jumps out from under your feet! I tried to shoot at least one for two days, but gave up this activity - it's useless … I taught the boys to eat lizards and snakes. Catching them turned out to be much easier than shooting rabbits. The pleasure of such food, of course, is not enough, but what to do - there is something necessary …) The water is also a problem: it was cloudy all around, and we drank it only through bactericidal sticks.
One morning, local residents came with a local district officer, a senior lieutenant. He even showed us some red crusts. They say: we know that you have nothing to eat. Here cows walk around. You can shoot a cow with painted horns - this is a collective farm. But do not touch unpainted - these are personal. "Good" seemed to be given, but it was somehow difficult for us to step over ourselves. Then, nevertheless, near Bass, one cow was filled up. Kill something killed, but what to do with her?.. And then Dima Gorbatov comes (I put him to cook). He is a village guy and in front of the amazed audience he butchered a cow completely in a few minutes!..
We haven't seen fresh meat for a very long time. And then the kebab! They also hung the clipping in the sun, wrapping it in bandages. And after three days it turned out jerky - no worse than in the store.
What was also worrisome was the constant nighttime shelling. Of course, we did not open return fire right away. Let's notice where the shooting is from, and slowly we go to this area. Here the esbaerka (SBR, short-range reconnaissance radar station - Ed.) Helped us a lot.
One evening, with the scouts (there were seven of us), trying to walk unnoticed, we went towards the sanatorium, from where they had fired at us the day before. We came - we find four "beds", next to a small mined warehouse. We didn't remove anything - we just set up our traps. It worked at night. It turns out that we did not go in vain … But we did not check the results, for us the main thing was that there was no more shooting from this direction.
When we returned safely this time, for the first time in a long time, I felt satisfaction - after all, the work that I can do was beginning. In addition, now I did not have to do everything myself, but something could already be entrusted to someone else. It took only a week and a half, and people were changed. War teaches quickly. But it was then that I realized that if we had not pulled out the dead, but left them, then the next day no one would have gone into battle. This is the most important thing in a war. The guys saw that we were not abandoning anyone.
We had constant sorties. Once we left an armored personnel carrier below and climbed into the mountains. We saw an apiary and began to inspect it: it was converted into a mine class! Right there, in the apiary, we found the lists of the company of the Islamic battalion. I opened them and could not believe my eyes - everything is like ours: the 8th company. In the list of information: name, surname and where from. A very interesting squad composition: four grenade launchers, two snipers and two machine gunners. I ran with these lists for a whole week - where to give? Then I handed it over to the headquarters, but I'm not sure that I got this list where it should be. It was all cared for.
Not far from the apiary, they found a pit with an ammunition depot (one hundred and seventy boxes of sub-caliber and high-explosive tank shells). While we were examining all this, the battle began. A machine gun began to hit us. The fire is very dense. And Misha Mironov, a country boy, when he saw an apiary, became not himself. He lit up the smokes, he takes out the frames with honeycombs, he brushes off the bees with a twig. I told him: "Miron, they are shooting!" And he went into a rage, jumps, and does not throw the frame with honey! We have nothing special to answer - the distance is six hundred meters. We jumped on an APC and walked along the Bas. It became clear that the militants, although from afar, were grazing their mine class and ammunition (but then our sappers still detonated these shells).
We returned to our place and pounced on honey, and even with milk (the locals allowed us to milk one cow from time to time). And after snakes, after grasshoppers, after tadpoles, we experienced simply indescribable pleasure!.. It's a pity, only there was no bread.
After the apiary, I told Gleb, the commander of the reconnaissance platoon: "Go, look at everything further." The next day Gleb reports to me: "I sort of found a cache." Let's go. We see in the mountain a cave with cement formwork, in depth it went about fifty meters. The entrance is masked very carefully. You will only see him if you come close.
The entire cave is filled with boxes of mines and explosives. I opened the drawer - there are brand new antipersonnel mines! Our battalion only had the same old machines as ours. There were so many boxes that it was impossible to count them. I counted thirteen tons of plastic alone. The total weight was easy to determine, since the plastic boxes were marked. There was also explosives for the "Serpent Gorynych" (a machine for demining by an explosion. - Ed.), And squibs for it.
And in my company the plastic was bad, old. To make something out of it, you had to soak it in gasoline. But, it is clear that if the soldiers begin to soak something, then some nonsense will surely happen … And then the fresh plastic is making. Judging by the packaging, 1994 release. Out of greed, I took myself four "sausages", about five meters each. I also collected electric detonators, which we also did not have in sight. The sappers were summoned.
And then our regimental intelligence arrived. I told them that we had found the militants' base the day before. There were about fifty "spirits". Therefore, we did not contact them, we only marked the place on the map.
The scouts on three armored personnel carriers pass by our 213rd checkpoint, enter the gorge and start firing from the KPVT on the slopes! I still thought to myself: "Wow, the reconnaissance has gone … I immediately identified myself." It seemed wild to me then. And my worst premonitions came true: after a few hours they were covered just in the area of the point that I showed them on the map …
The sappers went about their business, preparing to blow up the explosives warehouse. Dima Karakulko, deputy commander of our battalion for armaments, was also here. I gave him a smooth-bore cannon found in the mountains. “Spirits”, apparently, were removed from the damaged infantry fighting vehicle and placed on a makeshift platform with a battery. It looks ugly, but you can shoot from it, aiming at the barrel.
I got ready to go to my 212nd checkpoint. Then I saw that the sappers had brought firecrackers to detonate the electric detonators. These crackers work on the same principle as a piezo lighter: when the button is pressed mechanically, an impulse is generated, which activates the electric detonator. Only the firecracker has one serious drawback - it works for about one hundred and fifty meters, then the impulse dies out. There is a "twist" - it acts on two hundred and fifty meters. I told Igor, the commander of a sapper platoon: "Did you go there yourself?" He: "No." Me: "So go and see …". He returned, I see - he is already unwinding the "vole". They seem to have unwound a full reel (this is more than a thousand meters). But when they blew up the warehouse, they were still covered with earth.
Soon we set the table. We are having a feast again - honey and milk … And then I turned around and could not understand anything: the mountain on the horizon begins to slowly rise up along with the forest, with the trees … And this mountain is six hundred meters wide and about the same height. Then the fire appeared. And then I was thrown several meters away by a blast wave. (And this happens at a distance of five kilometers from the explosion site!) And when I fell, I saw a real mushroom, as in educational films about atomic explosions. And here's what: the sappers blew up the "spiritual" warehouse of explosives, which we discovered earlier. When we sat down at the table in our meadow again, I asked: "Where are the spices, pepper from here?" But it turned out that it was not pepper, but ash and earth, which were falling from the sky.
After some time, the air flashed: "The scouts were ambushed!" Dima Karakulko immediately took the sappers, who had previously been preparing the warehouse for the explosion, and went to pull out the scouts! But they also went to the APC! And also got into the same ambush! And what could the sappers do - they have four shops per person and that's it …
The battalion commander told me: "Seryoga, you are covering the exit, because it is not known where and how ours will come out!" I was standing right between the three gorges. Then the scouts and sappers in groups and one by one came out through me. In general, there was a big problem with the exit: the fog had set, it was necessary to make sure that their own did not shoot their own departing.
Gleb and I raised our 3rd platoon, which was stationed at the 213rd checkpoint, and what was left of the 2nd platoon. The ambush site was two or three kilometers from the checkpoint. But ours went on foot and not along the gorge, but along the mountains! Therefore, when the "spirits" saw that it would be impossible to deal with these just like that, they shot and walked away. Then ours did not have a single loss, either killed or wounded. We probably knew that former experienced Soviet officers were fighting on the side of the militants, because in the previous battle I clearly heard four single shots - this even from Afgan meant a signal to withdraw.
With intelligence it turned out something like this. "Spirits" saw the first group on three APCs. Hit. Then they saw another, also in an APC. They hit again. Our guys, who drove away the "spirits" and were the first to be at the scene of the ambush, said that the sappers and Dima himself fired back to the last from under the armored personnel carriers.
The day before, when Igor Yakunenkov died from a mine explosion, Dima kept asking me to take him on some sortie, because he and Yakunenkov were godfathers. And I think that Dima wanted to take revenge on the "spirits" personally. But then I firmly told him: “Don't go anywhere. Mind your own business". I understood that Dima and the sappers had no chance of getting the scouts out. He himself was not prepared for such tasks, and neither were the sappers! They learned something else … Although, of course, well done, that they rushed to the rescue. And not cowards turned out to be …
Not all of the scouts were killed. All night long, my fighters took out the rest. The last of them came out only on the evening of June 7th. But of the sappers who went with Dima, only two or three people survived.
In the end, we pulled out absolutely everyone: the living, the wounded, and the dead. And this again had a very good effect on the mood of the fighters - once again they made sure that we were not abandoning anyone.
On June 9, information about the assignment of ranks came: Yakunenkov - major (it turned out posthumously), Stobetsky - senior lieutenant ahead of schedule (it also turned out posthumously). And here's what is interesting: the day before we went to the source for drinking water. We return - there is a very ancient old woman with lavash in her hands and Isa next to her. He says to me: “Happy holiday to you, commander! Just don't tell anyone. " And hands over the bag. And in the bag - a bottle of champagne and a bottle of vodka. Then I already knew that those Chechens who drink vodka are entitled to a hundred sticks on their heels, and those who sell - two hundred. And the next day after this congratulation, I was awarded the title, as my fighters joked, "Major of the third rank" ahead of schedule (exactly one week ahead of schedule). This again indirectly proved that the Chechens knew absolutely everything about us.
On June 10, we went on another sortie, to the high-rise 703. Of course, not directly. First, an APC went to fetch water. The soldiers slowly load water onto the armored personnel carrier: oh, they spilled it, then again it is necessary to smoke, then with the local potrendels … Meanwhile, the guys and I cautiously descended the river. First they found the trash. (He is always removed to the side of the parking lot, so that even if the enemy stumbled upon him, he would not be able to pinpoint the location of the parking lot.) Then we began to notice the recently trampled paths. It is clear that the militants are somewhere nearby.
We walked quietly. We see the "spiritual" security - two people. They sit, rumble about something of their own. It is clear that they must be filmed silently so that they cannot make a single sound. But I have no one to send to remove the sentries - they did not teach the sailors on ships this. And psychologically, especially for the first time, this is a very terrible thing. Therefore, I left two (a sniper and a fighter with a silent shooting machine) to cover me and went on my own …
Security was removed, let's move on. But the "spirits" nevertheless became wary (maybe a branch crunched or some other noise) and ran out of the caches. And it was a dugout, equipped according to all the rules of military science (the entrance was zigzag so that it was impossible to put everyone inside with one grenade). My left flank has almost come close to the hideout, there are five meters left to the "spirits". In such a situation, the one who first pulls the shutter wins. We are in a better position: after all, they were not expecting us, but we were ready, so ours fired first and put everyone on the spot.
I showed Misha Mironov, our main honey beekeeper, and also a grenade launcher, to the window in the cache. And he managed to shoot from a grenade launcher from about eighty meters so that he hit exactly this window! So we overwhelmed the machine gunner, who was hiding in the cache.
The result of this fleeting battle: the "spirits" have seven corpses and I don't know how many wounded, since they left. We have not a single scratch.
And the next day, again, a man came out of the forest from the same direction. I shot from a sniper rifle in that direction, but not specifically at him: what if it’s “peaceful”. He turns and runs back into the forest. I saw through the scope - behind him was a submachine gun … So he was not at all peaceful. But it was not possible to remove it. Gone.
The locals sometimes asked us to sell them weapons. Once the grenade launchers ask: "We will give you vodka …". But I sent them very far. Unfortunately, arms sales weren't that uncommon. I remember, back in May I came to the market and saw how the soldiers of the Samara special forces sold grenade launchers!.. I - to their officer: "What's this going on?" And he: "Calm down …". It turns out that they took out the head of the grenade, and in its place they inserted an imitator with plastic. I even had a recording on my phone camera, how such a “charged” grenade launcher tore off the head of a “spirit”, and the “spirits” themselves were filming.
On June 11, Isa comes to me and says: “We have a mine. Help me to clear mines. " My checkpoint is very close, two hundred meters to the mountains. Let's go to his garden. I looked - nothing dangerous. But he still asked to pick it up. We stand talking. And with Isa were his grandchildren. He says: "Show the boy how the grenade launcher shoots." I fired, and the boy got scared, almost cried.
And at that moment, on a subconscious level, I felt rather than saw the flashes of shots. I was a kid instinctively in an armful grabbed and fell with him. At the same time I feel two stabs in the back, it was two bullets hit me … Isa does not understand what is the matter, rushes to me: "What happened?.." And then the sounds of shots come. And I had a spare titanium plate in my pocket on the back of my bulletproof vest (I still have it). So both bullets pierced the plate through and through, but did not go further. (After this incident, full respect began to us from the peaceful Chechens!..)
On June 16, the battle begins at my 213rd checkpoint! "Spirits" move to the checkpoint from two directions, there are twenty of them. But they do not see us, they look in the opposite direction, where they are attacking. And from this side, the "spiritual" sniper hits ours. And I can see the place where he works from! We go down the Bas and stumble upon the first guard, about five people. They did not shoot, but simply covered the sniper. But we went to their rear, so we instantly shot all five point-blank. And then we notice the sniper himself. Next to him are two more submachine gunners. We flunked them too. I shout to Zhenya Metlikin: “Cover me!..”. It was necessary that he cut off the second part of the "spirits" that we saw on the other side of the sniper. And I myself rush after the sniper. He runs, turns, shoots at me with a rifle, runs again, turns again and shoots …
Dodging a bullet is completely unrealistic. It came in handy that I knew how to run after the shooter so as to create maximum difficulty for him in aiming. As a result, the sniper never hit me, although he was fully armed: apart from the Belgian rifle, there was an AKSU submachine gun on my back, and a twenty-shot nine-millimeter Beretta on my side. This is not a gun, but just a song! Nickel-plated, two-handed!.. He grabbed the Beretta when I almost caught up with him. Here the knife came in handy. I took the sniper …
Take him back. He limped (I stabbed him in the thigh, as expected), but he walked. By this time, the battle had ceased everywhere. And from the front, our "spirits" shuganuli, and from the rear we hit them. "Spirits" in such a situation almost always leave: they are not woodpeckers. I realized this even during the battles in January 1995 in Grozny. If during their attack you do not leave the position, but stand or, even better, go towards, they leave.
Everyone was in high spirits: the "spirits" were driven away, the sniper was taken, everyone was safe. And Zhenya Metlikin asks me: "Comrade commander, who did you dream about the war most of all?" I answer: "Daughter". He: “But think about it: this bastard could leave your daughter without a father! Can I cut off his head? " Me: "Zhenya, fuck off … We need him alive." And the sniper limps next to us, and listens to this conversation … I well understood that the "spirits" swagger only when they feel safe. And this one, as soon as we took it, became a mouse, no arrogance. And he has about thirty serifs on the rifle. I didn't even count them, there was no desire, because behind every serif - someone's life …
While we were leading the sniper, Zhenya all these forty minutes and with other proposals turned to me, for example: “If you can't have his head, then let's at least cut off his hands. Or I’ll put a grenade in his pants…”. Of course, we were not going to do anything like that. But the sniper was already psychologically ready for interrogation by the regimental special officer …
According to the plan, we were supposed to fight until September 1995. But then Basayev took hostages in Budyonnovsk and, among other conditions, demanded to withdraw paratroopers and marines from Chechnya. Or, as a last resort, withdraw at least the Marines. It became clear that we would be taken out.
By mid-June, only the body of the deceased Tolik Romanov remained in the mountains. True, for some time there was a ghostly hope that he was alive and went to the infantry. But then it turned out that the infantrymen had his namesake. It was necessary to go to the mountains, where the battle took place, and take Tolik.
Before that, for two weeks, I asked the battalion commander: “Come on, I'll go and get him. I don't need platoons. I'll take two, because it's a thousand times easier to walk through the forest than in a column. But until mid-June, I did not receive a “go-ahead” from the battalion commander.
But now they were taking us out, and I finally got permission to go after Romanov. I build a checkpoint and say: "I need five volunteers, I am the sixth." And … not a single sailor takes a step forward. I came to my dugout and thought: "How so?" And only an hour and a half later it dawned on me. I take the connection and say to everyone: “You probably think that I'm not afraid? But I have something to lose, I have a little daughter. And I am afraid a thousand times more, because I am also afraid for all of you. " Five minutes pass and the first sailor approaches: "Comrade commander, I will go with you." Then the second, the third … Only a few years later the fighters told me that up to this moment they perceived me as some kind of combat robot, a superman who does not sleep, is not afraid of anything and acts like an automatic machine.
And on the eve of my left hand, a "bough udder" (hydradenitis, purulent inflammation of the sweat glands - Ed.) Popped out, a reaction to injury. It hurts unbearably, suffered all night. Then I felt on myself that for any gunshot wound, it is imperative to go to the hospital to cleanse the blood. And since I suffered a wound in my back on my feet, I started to get some kind of internal infection. Tomorrow in battle, and I have huge abscesses in my armpit, and boils in my nose. I recovered from this infection with burdock leaves. But for more than a week he suffered from this infection.
We were given MTLB, and at five twenty in the morning we went to the mountains. On the way we came across two patrols of militants. There were ten people in each. But the "spirits" did not enter the battle and left without even firing back. It was here that they threw the UAZ with that damned cornflower, from which so many people suffered in our country. "Cornflower" at that time was already broken.
When we arrived at the scene of the battle, we immediately realized that we had found the body of Romanov. We did not know if Tolik's body was mined. Therefore, two sappers first pulled him out of place with a "cat". We had doctors with us who collected what was left of him. We packed our things - a few photographs, a notebook, pens and an Orthodox cross. It was very hard to see all this, but what to do … It was our last duty.
I tried to reconstruct the course of those two battles. Here's what happened: when the first battle began and Ognev was wounded, our guys from the 4th platoon scattered in different directions and began to shoot back. They fired back for about five minutes, and then the platoon commander gave the command to retreat.
Gleb Sokolov, the company's medical officer, was bandaging Ognev's hand at this time. Our crowd with machine guns ran down, on the way they blew up a "cliff" (heavy machine gun NSV 12, 7 mm. - Ed.) And AGS (automatic heavy grenade launcher. - Ed.). But due to the fact that the commander of the 4th platoon, the commander of the 2nd platoon and his "deputy" fled in the forefront (they ran away so far that later they went out not even to ours, but to the infantry), Tolik Romanov had to cover the retreat of all and shoot back for about fifteen minutes …. I think that the moment he stood up, the sniper hit him in the head.
Tolik fell off a fifteen-meter cliff. There was a fallen tree below. He hung on it. When we went downstairs, his things were pierced through and through by bullets. We walked on the spent cartridges as if on a carpet. It seems that the "spirits" of his already dead riddled with anger.
When we took Tolik and left the mountains, the battalion commander told me: "Seryoga, you are the last to leave the mountains." And I pulled out all the remnants of the battalion. And when there was no one left in the mountains, I sat down, and I felt so sick … Everything seems to be over, and therefore the first psychological return, some kind of relaxation, or something, went. I sat for about half an hour and went out - my tongue was on my shoulder, and my shoulders were below the knees … The battalion commander shouted: “Are you all right?”. It turns out that in that half hour, when the last fighter came out, and I was gone, they almost turned gray. Chukalkin: "Well, Seryoga, you give …". And I didn’t think that they could worry about me like that.
I wrote awards for the Hero of Russia for Oleg Yakovlev and Anatoly Romanov. After all, Oleg until the last moment tried to pull out his friend Shpilko, although they were beaten with grenade launchers, and Tolik, at the cost of his life, covered the retreat of his comrades. But the battalion commander said: "The hero's fighters are not supposed to." Me: “How is it not supposed to be? Who said that? They both died saving their comrades!.. ". The battalion commander cut off: "The order is not allowed, the order is from the Group."
When Tolik's body was brought to the location of the company, the three of us in an APC drove after the UAZ, on which was that damned cornflower. For me it was a matter of principle: because of him, so many of our people died!
We found the "UAZ" without much difficulty, it contained about twenty cumulative anti-tank grenades. Here we see that the UAZ cannot go on its own. Something jammed him, so the "spirits" threw him away. While we were checking whether it was mined, while the cable was hooked, it was evident that they made some noise, and the militants began to gather in response to this noise. But we somehow slipped through, although the last section was driving like this: I was driving a UAZ car, and an APC was pushing me from behind.
When we left the danger zone, I could not spit out or swallow saliva - my whole mouth was tied up with worries. Now I understand that the UAZ was not worth the lives of the two boys who were with me. But, thank God, nothing happened …
When we got down to ours, in addition to the UAZ, the armored personnel carrier broke down completely. Doesn't go at all. Here we see the St. Petersburg RUBOP. We told them: "Help with the APC." They: “And what is this“UAZ”you have? We have explained. They are on the radio to someone: "UAZ" and "cornflower" from the marines! ".
It turns out that two detachments of RUBOP have been hunting for the "cornflower" for a long time - after all, he was shooting not only at us. We began to negotiate how they would cover the clearing in St. Petersburg on this matter. They ask: "How many of you were there?" We answer: "Three …". They: "How are three?..". And they had two officers' groups of twenty-seven people in each engaged in this search …
Next to RUBOP we see the correspondents of the second TV channel, they arrived at the battalion's TPU. They ask: "What can we do for you?" I say, "Call my parents at home and tell them you saw me at sea." My parents later said to me: “They called us from TV! They said they saw you on a submarine! " And my second request was to call Kronstadt and tell the family that I am alive.
After these races through the mountains in an APC, the five of us went to the Bas for a dip after the UAZ. I have four magazines with me, the fifth in the submachine gun and one grenade in the grenade. In general, the fighters have only one store. We swim … And then the armored personnel carriers of our battalion commander are undermining!
The "Spirits" went along the Bas, mined the road and rushed in front of the armored personnel carrier. Then the scouts said that it was revenge for the nine shot at TPU. (We had one alcoholic logistician at TPU. Somehow they arrived peacefully, got out of the car-nine. And he's cool … He took it and shot the car from a machine gun for no reason).
A terrible confusion ensues: our guys and me are mistaken for "spirits" and start shooting. My fighters in shorts jump, barely dodge bullets.
I to Oleg Ermolaev, who was next to me, give the command to retreat - he does not leave. Again I shout: "Get away!" He steps back and stands. (The fighters only later told me that they had appointed Oleg my "bodyguard" and told me not to leave me a single step.)
I see the departing "spirits"!.. It turned out that we were in their rear. That was the task: to somehow hide from our own fire, and not to let go of the "spirits". But, unexpectedly for us, they began to go not into the mountains, but through the village.
In a war, the one who fights better wins. But the personal fate of a particular person is a mystery. No wonder they say that "the bullet is a fool." This time, a total of sixty people fired at us from four sides, of whom about thirty were their own, who mistook us for "spirits." On top of that, a mortar was hitting us. Bullets flew around like bumblebees! And nobody was even hooked!..
I reported to Major Sergei Sheiko, who remained in charge of the battalion commander, about the UAZ. At first they didn’t believe me at TPU, but then they examined me and confirmed: this is the one with the cornflower.
And on June 22, a lieutenant colonel came to me with Sheiko and said: “This UAZ is“peaceful”. They came from the Makhkets for him, he must be returned. " But the day before I felt how the matter could end, and ordered my guys to mine the UAZ. I to the lieutenant colonel: "We will definitely give it back!..". And I look at Seryoga Sheiko and say: "You yourself understood what you are asking me about?" He: "I have such an order." Then I give my soldiers the go-ahead, and the UAZ takes off in front of the astonished audience!..
Sheiko says: “I will punish you! I am dismissing the command of the checkpoint! " Me: "And the checkpoint is gone …". He: "Then you will be the operational duty officer at TPU today!" But, as they say, there would be no happiness, but misfortune helped, and in fact that day I just slept for the first time - I slept from eleven in the evening to six in the morning. After all, all the days in the war before that there was not a single night when I would go to bed before six in the morning. Yes, and I usually slept only from six to eight in the morning - and that's it …
We begin to prepare for the march to Khankala. And we were one hundred and fifty kilometers from Grozny. Before the very beginning of the movement, we receive an order: surrender weapons and ammunition, leave one magazine and one underbarrel grenade at the officer, and the fighters should have nothing at all. Seryoga Sheiko gives me the order orally. I immediately take up a drill posture and report: “Comrade Guards Major! The 8th company handed over the ammunition”. He understood…". And then he himself reports upstairs: "Comrade Colonel, we have passed everything." Colonel: "Did you get it right?" Seryoga: "Exactly, passed!" But everyone understood everything. A kind of psychological study … Well, who would think, after what we did in the mountains with the militants, to march in a column of one hundred and fifty kilometers across Chechnya without weapons!.. We arrived without incident. But I am sure: only because we did not hand over our weapons and ammunition. After all, the Chechens knew everything about us.
On June 27, 1995, loading began in Khankala. The paratroopers came to hunt us - they were looking for weapons, ammunition … But we prudently got rid of all that was superfluous. I only felt sorry for the trophy Beretta, I had to leave …
When it became clear that the war was over for us, a fight for awards began in the rear. Already in Mozdok, I see a rear operator - he writes an award list for himself. I told him: "What are you doing?..". He: "If you perform here, I will not give you a certificate!" Me: “Yes, it was you who came here for help. And I pulled out all the boys: the living, the wounded, and the dead!.. ". I got so turned on that after this our "conversation" the personnel officer ended up in the hospital. But here's what is interesting: everything that he received from me, he formalized as a concussion and acquired additional benefits for it …
In Mozdok, we experienced more stress than at the beginning of the war! We go and are amazed - people walk ordinary, not military. Women, children … We have lost the habit of all this. Then I was taken to the market. There I bought a real barbecue. We also made kebabs in the mountains, but there was no proper salt or spices. And then meat with ketchup … A fairy tale!.. And in the evening the street lights came on! Wonderful, and only …
We come to a quarry filled with water. The water in it is blue, transparent!.. And on the other side the kids are running! And what we were in, we flopped into the water. Then we undressed and, like decent ones, in shorts, swam across to the other side, where people were swimming. On the edge of the family: Ossetian dad, child-girl and mother - Russian. And then the wife starts screaming loudly at her husband for not taking the child water to drink. But after Chechnya it seemed to us complete savagery: how does a woman command a man? Nonsense!.. And I involuntarily say: “Woman, why are you shouting? Look how much water is around. " She says to me: "Are you shell-shocked?" The answer is: "Yes." A pause … And then she sees a badge on my neck, and finally it comes to her, and she says: "Oh, I'm sorry …". It already dawns on me that I am drinking the water from this quarry and am glad that it is clean, but not them. They will not drink it, let alone water the child - for sure. I say: "You will excuse me." And we left …
I am grateful to fate that it brought me together with those with whom I found myself in the war. I am especially sorry for Sergei Stobetsky. Although I was already a captain and he was only a young lieutenant, I learned a lot from him. Plus, he behaved like a real officer. And sometimes I caught myself thinking: "Was I the same at his age?" I remember when the paratroopers came to us after the explosion of mines, their lieutenant came up to me and asked: "Where is Stobetsky?" It turns out that they were in the same platoon at the school. I showed him the body, and he said: "Of our platoon of twenty-four people, only three are still alive today." It was the release of the Ryazan Airborne School in 1994 …
It was very difficult later to meet with the relatives of the victims. It was then that I realized how important it is for my family to get at least some thing as a keepsake. In Baltiysk, I came to the house of the wife and son of the deceased Igor Yakunenkov. And there the rear officials sit and talk so emotionally and vividly, as if they had seen everything with their own eyes. I broke down and said: “You know, don't believe what they say. They weren't there. Take it as a keepsake. And I give Igor's flashlight. You should have seen how they carefully picked up this scratched, broken, cheap flashlight! And then his son began to cry …
