Private of the Airborne Forces Viktor Nikolaevich Emolkin tells:
- Afghanistan for me is the best years of my life. Afghan changed me radically, I became a completely different person. There I could die a hundred times: both when I was surrounded and when I was captured. But with God's help, I still remained alive.
In the area of special attention
Service in the Airborne Forces for me, like many others, began with the fact that in the seventh grade I watched the film "In the Zone of Special Attention". And after him I was so charged with love for the Airborne Forces! I cut out from newspapers and magazines everything that was printed there about the paratroopers, wore tarpaulin boots (my grandmother taught me how to tie footcloths), pulled up on the horizontal bar every day. Physically, I was almost completely prepared for the service, and besides, in the village you constantly either walk or ride a bicycle. Walking twenty-five kilometers from the village to DOSAAF, where I studied to be a driver, was not difficult for me.
The guys laughed at me - after all, everyone wants to serve in the Airborne Forces, but getting there to serve was unrealistic. When I was called up, only eight people were taken from all over Mordovia. I myself understood this, but I was very much on fire. Later I realized that the Lord was leading me, having read such a great desire in my heart.
I finished school in 1983. At first he worked as a tractor driver on a collective farm, then he studied at a technical school as a turner. And I left the collective farm for a technical school because I was involved in theft. Knives and aluminum forks were stolen from the collective farm canteen. Who needed them ?! After all, in the village they do not eat with forks, only in the dining room they lie. And no one eats them there either! But someone stole it.
They announced to me: “You came in, so you stole. Confess! " And they took him to the police. They say - either you pay a twenty-five rubles fine, or you get fifteen days. Me: "Make out fifteen days." How will I confess if I did not steal? I was saved by an investigator who came from the ministry with some kind of check. He sat, listened to me, listened … And I explain everything to him, that in the village they eat with wooden spoons or aluminum ones, no one needs these forks. He told me: go out into the corridor. And I can hear him yelling at the local policeman: “What are you kidding me for fifteen days! Think with your head - who needs them, these forks! What do you eat yourself? " He: "Spoon". The investigator says to me: "Go home."
I was so shocked by this story that I wrote a letter of resignation from the collective farm and left for Saransk to stay with my sister. I walk the streets there, I don't know what to do before the army. In the end, he decided to study as a turner. They gave me a respite from the army, so the first time they took me into the army only in the fall of 1984.
At the regional assembly point, it turned out that I was being sent to serve for three years in the navy. And I didn't want to join the Navy, I was simply killed by such a turn of the matter! Then I was told that there is some kind of captain with whom you can negotiate. I went up to him: "I want to serve in the airborne troops!" He: “Yes, there was already a dispatch to the landing troops. Now only until spring. " Me: "Yes, I do not want to join the Navy!" He: "If you bring a liter of vodka, I will organize it."
A sister stood outside the gate, she went to the store and bought two bottles of vodka. I stuck them in my trousers, dragged them in and gave them to the captain. He gives me a military ID and says: "Get out through the toilet window, there is a path - along it you will go to the station." I came to my military registration and enlistment office and said: "They didn't take it, here's a military ID - they gave it back."
In the village at that time they were escorted to the army very magnificently: with a concert, with an accordion. They went from house to house, seeing off the guy. That is how they saw me off. And then I come back, for some reason they don't take me. Relatives: “It's strange … They take everyone, but you don't. OK….
Shipment again in two weeks. At the assembly point they tell me: to the infantry. First to Fergana, then to Afghanistan. I had a tractor driver's license, so they planned to take me as a tank or BMP driver.
But I didn't want to go to Afghanistan! Five from our village served there: one of them died, one was wounded, one died. Well, I didn't want to go there at all! I go again to the same captain, I prepared vodka in advance. I say: “I don’t want to go to Afghanistan! I want to join the Airborne Forces, I'll be called up in the spring. Organizing? " And I show vodka, my sister brought it to me again. He: “Well done, you think! You will be all right in the army. " I walk across the field to the station again. At the military registration and enlistment office I say - again they do not take!
There was no more agenda in the fall. But at the end of December, you were invited to the military registration and enlistment office - will you go to DOSAAF to study as a driver? I say: "I will go." And on January 10, 1985 he began to study.
I studied at DOSAAF for about six months. A colonel, the head of the assembly point of all Mordovia, came to visit us there. He was a paratrooper! I go up to him, and I myself think: everyone will laugh again if I ask for the Airborne Forces. But still he asked: “Comrade Colonel, I dream of serving in the Airborne Forces. How can I get there? " He: “It's very difficult. The dispatch will be on May 10, I'll try to help you."
There is still no agenda. Therefore, on May 9, I myself went to the district military registration and enlistment office. They say: “Are you stunned - you came yourself? We invite you on subpoenas. " And they forced to first wash the floors, and then paint some room. I realized that nothing could shine for me, and went for broke. I say: "Actually, my relative is your boss." I remembered the colonel's surname, name and patronymic. They: "We will call him now." The colonel picks up the phone, the captain reports to him that he is calling from such and such an area and asks: “Do you have any relatives here? And then our guy says that you are his relative. " Colonel: "There are no relatives." The captain shows me his fist. Me: “Tell me that in such-and-such DOSAAF we communicated with him for the last time, the surname is such and such, I asked in the Airborne Forces! He probably forgot! " And then a miracle happened, the colonel played along with me: "Send him to me to be here urgently!"
I arrived in Saransk in the evening, so I came to the assembly point only on May 10 in the morning. And the set in the Airborne Forces took place the day before. The colonel says: “That's it, I can't do anything. But ask the major who is recruiting if he can take you. " I went up: “Comrade Major, take me! So I want to serve in the Airborne Forces, I just dreamed! I am a tractor driver, and I have a driver's license, I was engaged in sambo wrestling. You will not regret!". He: “No, move away. I have already recruited eight people. " And I see military cards in his hands.
And at the collection point, several hundred people are standing. Everyone began to shout: "Take me, me!" After all, everyone wants to serve in the Airborne Forces! I was so upset, I got a lump in my throat! He walked away, sat down in the corner on some steps. I think: “Lord, I only want to serve in the Airborne Forces, nowhere else! What am I to do now, Lord? " I literally did not know how to continue to live. And then a miracle happened.
The major lowered all eight to say goodbye to their parents. They went out the gate and gave a good drink there. The major builds them in an hour, and they are drunk as a lord: they can hardly stand, sway … He calls the name of the first one: "Drank?" - "No". Again: "Drank?" - "Yes". Then: "How much?" - "One hundred grams." And the guy is barely standing. Major: "I am seriously asking." - "Three hundred grams." - "And exactly?" - "Half liter…". And so everyone in turn, everyone in the end confesses. And now the turn comes to the last. He brazenly replies that he did not drink - and that's it! And he himself, drunk in an arc, can hardly stand. The major takes out his military ID and gives it - take it! The guy, not yet understanding what the matter is, takes a military ID.
And the major starts to look into the crowd. Then everyone around them realized that he had kicked the guy! The crowd of the major immediately surrounded, a sea of hands: “Me! I, I!.. ". And I stand on the steps and think - what is the noise, what is happening there? Then the major saw me and waves his hand - come here. At first I thought that he was calling someone else, I looked around. He told me: “You, you!.. Fighter, come here! Where is the military card? " And my military ID has already been taken away. - "On the fifth floor". - “A minute of time. With a military card here, quickly! " I realized that I had a chance. I ran for a ticket, but they won't give it back! “What military ID? Get away from here! Now you're going to paint the floors. " I to the colonel: "Comrade Colonel, they decided to take me to the Airborne Forces, but they don't give me a military ID!" Now he". He took the ticket and gave it to me: “Here, serve! To make everything good! " Me: "Thank you, Comrade Colonel!" And bullet down. I myself think: "Lord, if only the major did not change his mind!"
I run up and see a heartbreaking scene: the guy who was rejected by the major is on his knees and crying: “Forgive me, forgive me! I drank! Take me, take me! " The major takes a ticket from me: "Get in line!". I got up, everything inside was trembling - what if he changed his mind? To himself: "Lord, if only he did not change his mind, if only he did not change his mind!..". And then the major says to the drunk guy: “Remember - you are not fit in the Airborne Forces in principle. You can drink, dare, do whatever. But such liars like you are not needed in the Airborne Forces."
Major told me: “Have you said goodbye to your parents? On the bus! We sat down, and the major kept walking outside. And that guy is following him, and around the Major's guys are asking: “Take me, me!..”. And while he was making out something for thirty minutes, I was worried and could not wait - we would rather go!
Finally the major got on the bus and we drove off. The crowd accompanied us, everyone looked with envy, as if we were lucky and were going somewhere to the heavenly groves …
The major asked us how we wanted to go: in a compartment or in a troop train. We are, of course, in a compartment! He: "Then one gold piece from each." It turned out that he had booked three compartments in advance: two for us and a separate one for himself. And we went to Moscow, like white people, in a branded train. He even let us have a little drink. He sat with us. We asked him about everything at midnight, everything was interesting to us. Actually, I drove and pinched myself every five minutes: I don't believe it! This is some kind of miracle! I ended up serving in the Airborne Forces! And when they drove off, my mother stood at the carriage window and cried. I told her: “Mom, why are you crying? I'm going to the Airborne Forces!.. ".
In the morning we arrived in Moscow, the train to Kaunas was only in the evening. The major allowed us to go to VDNKh and have a beer. From Kaunas we arrived by bus to the village of Rukla, the "capital" of the Gayzhunai training division of the Airborne Forces. In the forest there are three regiments, a lot of training centers, a take-off site. It was here that the film "In the Zone of Special Attention" was filmed. And every time I watch this wonderful film for the hundredth time, I remember: here I was on guard, here is the very store that was robbed by the bandits in the film, and we bought Buratino soda there. That is, I got exactly to the place from which my dream of serving in the Airborne Forces began.
Tutorial
I took a cross with me to the army, my grandmother gave it to me. Everybody wore crosses in our village. But before sending it, I did not want to take it, I even rolled it into a ball with a string and put it on the icons. But the grandmother said: “Take it. Please!". Me: "Well, they will take it away anyway!" She: "Take it for me!" I took.
In the training, they first began to assign us who was good for where. You had to run a kilometer, then pull yourself up on the crossbar, make an ascent with a coup. I was eager to reconnaissance. But as a result, he ended up in the 6th company of the special purpose battalion of the 301st paratrooper regiment. As it turned out later, the battalion was being prepared to be sent to Afghanistan …
After checking our physical fitness, we were sent to the bathhouse. You enter the bathhouse in your clothes, the doors close behind you. And you go out already in military uniform. And then they check your demobilization - they are looking for money. I put a cross with a string under my tongue. I had fifteen rubles, I folded these pieces of paper several times and held my hands between my fingers. They checked everything for my demobilization, then: "Open your mouth!" I think they will probably find a cross. I say: "I have money here."And I give them my fifteen rubles. They took the money - free, come in. And when we came to the unit, I sewed a cross under the buttonhole. So until the demobilization, I walked with this sewn-up cross.
On the second or third day, the battalion commander lined up us. I still remember how he walks in front of the formation and says: "Guys, do you know where you got to ?!" - "To Army…". - "You got into the Airborne Forces !!!". Sergeants: "Hurray-ah-ah!..". Then he told us that we would go to Afghanistan.
The sergeants say: "Now we will check who is who!" And we ran a cross for six kilometers. And I have never run such distances. Legs are normal, but no breathing apparatus! After a kilometer and a half I feel - everything is burning inside me! Barely sawing somewhere behind. Then one guy stopped, runs up: “Listen, have you ever run such a distance?”. - "No". - “What are you doing? You will soon spit out your lungs with blood! Come on, we will put the breathing apparatus. Run in step with me and inhale through your nose for every knock of your foot. " And we ran. It turned out to be a guy from Cheboksary, a candidate for master of sports in track and field athletics.
He gave me a breath very quickly. We ran with him for another kilometer and a half. I felt better, I began to breathe. He: “Well, how? Are your legs okay? " - "Fine". - "Let's catch up with the main crowd." Caught up. - "Listen, let's overtake them!" Outrun. - "Let's catch up with those ten!" Caught up. - "There are those three more!" They caught up again. This was his tactic. Says: “Finish in five hundred meters. We will jerk three hundred meters away, because everyone will jerk. " We took off, and at the finish line I also overtook him, came running first.
It turned out that I have "physics". This guy taught me how to run properly, but as a result, later he himself could never overtake me. But he turned out to be unenviable, he was glad that I was able to do it. As a result, I ran the best in the company. And in general, everything worked out for me. After all, every morning I began to train. Everyone smokes, and at this time I swing, I hold bricks so that my hands do not shake when shooting.
But when the first cross, the two of us came running first, the sergeants came up and one of them would hit me like! And after six kilometers I can hardly breathe. Me: "For what?" He: “For that! Do you understand why? " - "No". He once again to me - melons! I understand!". But in reality it was incomprehensible to me. I ask everyone - why? I came running first! Nobody understands either.
After the second cross (I ran in the top ten) the sergeant punched me again: "The most cunning?" And "kolobashka" - bam on top!.. - "Got it, why?". - "No!". - "What are you, as a hundred Chinese people are stupid, like a Siberian felt boot!" I heard so many new expressions: I am a cloven-hoofed ram, and a kind of utter Mongol. I still do not understand! I say: “Okay, I'm guilty. Stupid, rustic - but I don't understand: why! ". Then the sergeant explained: “You know that you run the best. You must help the one who is the weakest! The Airborne Forces is one for all and all for one! Got it, soldier!?. ".
And as soon as the cross or march is fifteen kilometers, I drag the weakest. And the worst of all was the kid whose mother was the director of a confectionery factory in Minsk. Once every two weeks she came to us and brought a bunch of chocolate with her, the company car was completely filled with it. So this guy was running around in sneakers. Everyone is in boots, and he is in sneakers! But he still runs the worst. I stop - it clings to my belt, and I drag it with me. I go forward - he pulls me back, I forward - he pulls me back again! We come running in about thirty minutes after all. I just fall, my legs don't go at all. How hard it was then and seemed like an unnecessary burden. But then I thanked the Lord - after all, in this way I pumped up my legs! And in Afghanistan it was very useful to me.
The first two months I did not shoot well: from a machine gun, from a machine gun, and from a BMP-2 cannon. And for those who shot at deuces, there was such a procedure: a gas mask on the head, two suitcases in the hands. And seven and a half kilometers from the shooting range - to the regiment at a run! You stop, pour out sweat from the gas mask, and then - tyn-tyn-tyn … But in the end one sergeant taught me how to shoot.
Our sergeants were generally very good, from Belarus. I remember that the company went into the outfit. Sergeant: "Those who wish - two people to Vilnius!" - "I-I-I want!..". And we are standing next to a guy from Crimea, he is also from the village. We decided - let's not rush, what will get, we will go there. - "There are so many people in the regional center, so many people in the cafe - you need to take something to the city."Then: "Two people - a pigsty." Silence … And we are village. - "Let's go!" - "Come on". Then he reads out: “Two people (me and a guy from Crimea) are going to Kaunas. The rest - dig trenches! " It was very funny.
Next time everything is the same: wanting to go there? Silence … The sergeant asks us: “Where do you want to go? There is a cowshed, there is this, there is this … . And for us, village people, it is a pleasure in the cowshed! They cleaned the manure, milked the cow, drank milk - and sleep on the hay. And the place is fenced, the cows will not go beyond the fence anyway.
I was a poor student at school. They even gave me a grade at the final exam and had to be released not with a certificate, but with a certificate. But due to the fact that I stayed to work on the collective farm, the chairman of the collective farm agreed: they gave me a triple all the same and gave me a certificate. And here in the army I became the best soldier, an example for others. I have memorized all the instructions, all the rules of the day, sentry. He ran the best, learned how to shoot perfectly, hand-to-hand combat was obtained, the VDK (airborne complex. - Ed.) Passed the best. And after five and a half months I was recognized as the best soldier in the company.
But parachute jumps remained … Almost everyone before the army had jumps, and I never jumped. And then one day at three in the morning they raise - a combat alarm! Breakfast at four in the morning. Then we drove out in cars in the direction of the village of Gayzhunai, from there - a march through the forest. And by ten o'clock in the morning we came to the airfield. Our parachutes have already been brought there by cars.
It so happened that the day of the first jump coincided with my birthday. All the cadets were given leave on their birthday, and you do nothing, go to a cafe, just walk. The officer stops you: "Stop, where are you going?" - "I have a birthday today". Without talking - free, go for a walk on. And then at three in the morning we got up, march and the first jump! But the next day, such an event is not postponed …
We got into the "maize" aircraft An-2. There were ten of us. And all of them are experienced, one has three hundred jumps! He: “Well, guys! Coward?!. ". All kinds are not served, I also try to hold on. After all, by that time I was among the best!
I jumped in height and fourth in weight. Everyone is smiling, joking, and I couldn't even get a smile out of myself. Heart - tyn-tyn, tyn-tyn … I say to myself: “Lord! I must jump, I must jump! I'm among the best. What if I don't jump? Shame for life. I was so eager to join the Airborne Forces! I will jump, I will jump!.. Nobody breaks … I will force myself! So he talked to himself until the very siren. And when she played, I saw that everyone was cowardly …
Before, twice in a dream I saw hell. Such a dream - you fall into the abyss with incredible fear!.. This fear in my brain and settled down. (It was later I learned that you see such dreams when you grow up.) And this very fear attacked me on the plane! We got up, checked that everything was fastened. According to the instructions, I grabbed the ring with my right hand, and the spare wheel with my left. The instructor commands: "The first went, the second went, the third went …"! I walked with my eyes closed, but at the very doors I had to open them: according to the instructions, I had to put my foot in a certain way and then dive along the way. And I see that there is a cloud at the bottom - and there is nothing further!.. But thanks to the instructor - he practically helped me: "The fourth went!..". And I went …
But as soon as it flew out of the door, the brain immediately started working. He pulled his legs under him so that they would not braid the emerging lines during somersaults. “Five hundred twenty one, five hundred twenty two… five hundred twenty five. Ring! Then - a ring in the bosom! . It was I who gave myself such orders. I noticed that the heart, which was beating incredibly on the plane, after the jump, after a second, stopped beating like that.
Strong jerk, even my legs hurt! The parachute opened. And in my head the instruction is spinning: cross your arms, see if there is someone nearby. And then such bliss came!.. The guys are flying around. - “Vityo-e-e-ek, hello-e-e-e-e-e! Co-o-o-o-olya, hello! Someone sings songs.
But as soon as I looked down, I immediately grabbed the slings convulsively - the ground was already close! Landed fine. But due to the fact that I was nervous, I still had a "bear disease" in the air! I think: "It would be faster to fall to the ground, but closer to some bushes!" He extinguished the parachute strictly according to the instructions: he pulled on the lines, then abruptly let go. And then he quickly threw off everything and ran into the bushes! I'm sitting there … Bam! Nearby a boot fell. Only then it dawned on me why the paratroopers were tying the laces on the tops of their boots. I collected my parachute. I walk across the field. Nearby - boom! This ring with a cable fell, someone threw it away, not pushed it in the bosom! And I've already taken off my helmet. Immediately he pulled it over his head again, and put the parachute on top.
Here, in the forest, we were given badges, chocolates. And they handed over three rubles, which were due to the soldier for each jump. The officers were paid ten rubles. It immediately became clear why everyone was so eager to jump. After the first jump for half a month, my mood improved, as if additional strength appeared. (In total, I had six or eight jumps. In Afghanistan, of course, there were no jumps. At first, the command planned to organize. We even prepared, collected parachutes. But on the appointed day, the jumps were canceled - they were afraid that spooks might ambush.)
One of the seven guys with whom we were drafted together from Mordovia ended up serving with me in the same department. We even had beds next to each other. I thought: "What a blessing that there is a fellow countryman nearby!" After all, it is much more difficult for village guys than for city guys to leave home. At first it was very hard, just unbearably hard. He turned out to be a good guy, and we kept in touch with him. His own sister worked as a nurse in a hospital in Kabul. And she wrote him such terrible letters! The censorship was sure to read letters to the citizen and did not miss a lot of things. And these were letters between military units, so they probably got through. In general, the soldiers from the training were allowed to correspond with the soldiers who had already fought in Afghanistan.
We read my sister's letters together. My sister wrote that almost eighty percent of the children suffer from hepatitis, twenty-five percent are wounded, ten percent are crippled, and a lot of people are killed. She wrote to him: "I don't want you to serve here!" And after three and a half months her brother broke down … I went to the regiment commander, showed the letters and said that he did not want to go to Afghanistan. Commander: "Do you want to be a permanent member?" - "Want!". And two weeks later he was transferred to the remrotu. I was worried - we became very close friends.
And after some time he began to persuade me: "Come on stay, let's stay …". I think that, having evaded Afgan, he was looking for an excuse for himself that he would not be the only one like that.
We, the cadets, walked very clean and tidy: we washed, we washed our uniforms … And he came from the remrota all in fuel oil, black, sleepy - they drove him out there like a Sidorov goat. And in our training company there was only one demobilization. The sergeants, of course, chased us, but there was no such hazing as in the remrot.
My friend went to the regiment commander: “I have a compatriot, Victor. He is a turner and generally serves well. Maybe leave him too? " The regiment commander invited me: "Do you want to serve in Afghanistan?" - "Yes, I don't really want to, to be honest." - "Do you want to stay?" - "Well, you can stay …". - "Okay, let's make an order on you."
Not long before that, my mother came to visit me. I called her myself. Although in principle, like everyone else, I was against the arrival of my parents. I'm not a mama's son! But I was on my way to Afghanistan, where I might be killed. I wanted to take a picture with her, to say goodbye. She did not know that we were being prepared for Afghan, and I was not going to tell her about it. (By the way, almost until the very end of my service, she did not know that I was serving in Afghanistan.)
Mom came with my sister's husband. They ask: "Where will you serve later?" - "Send to some part."But the next day, when my mother came to me, at the checkpoint she saw a woman crying: they were taking her son to Afghanistan!.. Mom also burst into tears. Says: "But my son is not going to Afghanistan." - "And in what company does he serve?" - "I do not know". - "What letter is it?" - "E". - "And mine also has" E "…". - "And mine said that the whole company is going to Afghanistan!"
I come - my mother is crying. “And you, it turns out, are going to Afghanistan, hiding from me!”. - "Mom, I'm not going to Afghanistan." And she tells me the conversation with that woman. I ask: "What is her son's name?" - "So and so." - "Yes, he goes, and they send me to another place." I think to myself: "Well, a goat …".
My mother and I walked all day. In the evening I come to the regiment commander: "Give me some piece of paper that I am not going to Afghanistan, my mother will not survive this." The commander summoned a clerk, who wrote that I was sent on a business trip to Bratislava in Czechoslovakia for a year and a half. The commander signed, put the seal. I brought the paper to my mother: “Here you are! This is an order that I am going to serve in Czechoslovakia, calm down. " Mom was so happy!
I returned the paper to the regiment commander. He: "Well, have you calmed down?" - "Calmed down." He tore it up, and to me: "Okay, go." Then I went to the guy who started it all. - “Are you stunned? Tell your mom that I'm definitely not going to Afghan!"
Then the regiment commander issued an order that I remain in a permanent composition in the remrot. But when the order took place, I felt: something was wrong here … My soul was too dreary. Many did not want to go to Afghanistan, but there is nowhere to go. And I have always been an example, I walked in a straight line. And then somehow he dodged, dodged.
Two weeks before the dispatch, we were given grades, and I saw that I was among the best soldiers in the regiment. Everyone congratulated me. And immediately the order was brought to the company that I remain in a permanent composition. All: “Vityok, we are so glad that you are staying! I didn’t take time off, I worked like Papa Carlo. Come on, Vityok! We will correspond. If someone is killed, we will write to you …”.
I packed my backpack, began to say goodbye, and suddenly tears began to flow from me: "My God, these guys are closer to me than my family!" Some also had tears in their eyes. I leave the company, this is the fourth floor. I began to go down the stairs, I feel that my legs are not going. My conscience began to choke me, I did not have enough air. It got so bad … I think: “It is me, the best soldier of the company, dodging Afghanistan? I can't do that! " There was a clear feeling that they were all going to paradise, and I was leaving paradise.
I threw my backpack right on the landing and ran to the regiment commander. - “Comrade Colonel, it's my fault! Forgive me, save me! " And there were some officers sitting there. He: “Soldier, I remember you. What's happened?". - "Save!" - "What do you need?" - "Send to Afghanistan!" - "Why?". “I can't, my conscience is choking me. I want with the guys!"
He: "Wait." I went and got my folder from the archive. I dug, dug (and there were already fifteen sheets written on me), pulled out a statement that I wanted to stay in the unit. - "On, tear!". I tore. - “Write a statement to Afghanistan. I, such and such, want to go to Afghanistan of my own free will. Sign, put the date. " I put a statement in my folder: “Take it, give it to the Afghan group. You will go to Afghanistan. " Me: "Thank you!..". - "Wait!".
The colonel went outside with me and uttered the words that I have memorized for my whole life. I have never heard such in my address. At school I was only scolded, called names in every way. And the colonel said: “You know, I talked to you and understood that you have very strong moral qualities. You can withstand any load, any test. Never be afraid. If it is very difficult for another and he cannot do something, know: you are stronger than him. It will help you. " He hugged me: "Serve well, don't let our regiment down!" - "Thank you, Comrade Commander!" And he ran to his room.
On the stairs I grab my backpack and run into the company. - "Vityok, what happened?" - "Guys, I'm going with you to Afghan!..". And then we hugged again to tears … Then he went to his fellow countryman in remrotu: "Forgive me, Oleg, but I'm going to Afghanistan." “It's a pity, of course, that I am alone here. It would be more fun together. " "Yes, but I can't."
I thought then that I had run away from the first providence of God - I refused the difficulties of three years of service in the navy. But then the Lord increased the difficulties even more - you will go to Afghanistan! But I myself wanted to join the landing troops, I wanted to test myself. And the Lord gave me such an opportunity. But he also gave direction - Afghanistan. And I decided to avoid it! And, interestingly, the Lord gave me a choice (I could have avoided these difficulties). But at the same time He gave me a conscience and thereby saved me. If I dodged Afgan, I would definitely die, I would become a completely different person, I would break down, like many of my fellow countrymen, I would not be able to live normally if I ceased to respect myself.
We fly to Afghanistan
A couple of weeks later we were put into two-story airborne IL-76, and we flew for a long, long time to Kirovobad. It was cold in Gayzhunai, but we leave the plane - twenty-seven degrees Celsius! They gave us dry rations, we ate something and flew on to Fergana. We got out of the plane - darkness, nothing is visible. We stood at the airfield, stood … Here they say: we will spend the night in the Fergana airborne training regiment. We went there on foot. We go, we go through the desert, we go, we go … So we walked either fifteen, or seventeen kilometers.
We lived in the regiment for three days, slept in some terrible conditions. After all, we came from the cultural Baltic! And here the conditions are the same as in Afghanistan: water flows only from some holes in the pipes, the toilet is outside.
We were told that the delay in departure was due to the hurricane, and the plane could not land. And then it turned out that the day before they had shot down a plane with demobels. We were, of course, not told anything.
Three days later we came to the airfield again on foot. They put us not on a military plane, but on a civilian Tu-154. The plane flew at maximum altitude, because then there were already "stingers" (portable anti-aircraft missile system made in the United States. - Ed.). The mountains looked so small from above. Indescribable beauty! But when they flew to Kabul, something unimaginable began. The aircraft began to approach in a steep spiral with a dive. It felt like we were just falling! We sat down, we look through the windows - around the Middle Ages, the hills are covered with mud huts. There was a feeling that we had failed in a time machine three hundred years ago.
We met demobels right at the gangway, who were supposed to fly away on this plane. The seasoned ones are: black from sunburn, in a parade, with medals, with aiguillettes! And everyone has the same diplomats (small flat suitcases) in their hands. - "Where? Is there someone from Perm, from Irkutsk?.. ". We go down, they shout: “Hang yourself, sons! This is the end of you!"
The transit point was about two hundred meters away. An officer came to pick us up: "Follow me!" The artillery unit began immediately. She was at the very end of the runway (artillery regiment of the 103rd Vitebsk airborne division. - Ed.). Through the "artillery troop" we came to the "fifty-kopeck piece" (350th regiment of the 103rd airborne division. - Ed.). They took us to the club, we sat in the hall. The "buyers" came: - "So, first to the reconnaissance company of the division." I shout: "I, I want!". - “Okay, come here. Where did you study?". - "In the sixth company in Gaijunai." - "No you can not. We only take scouts. " - "Ka-a-ak?!.". But still, one guy got from my platoon, Volodya Molotkov from Cherepovets (he, thank God, survived). They didn't get the scouts, and he was the closest.
And I'm still torn and torn! One “buyer” says to me: “Why are you always rushing somewhere?!.”. - "I want to fight in a battle company!" - "Then you will come to me in the 1st company." So I ended up in the 1st squad of the 1st platoon of the 1st company of the 1st battalion of the 350th regiment. And the 1st company is always the first to land, the very first to climb the mountains and the very first to capture the hills. And if the 1st company rose above everyone else, then the 1st platoon in it went farthest and rose above everyone else and from there reported to the regiment what was happening around.
Together with us came "Ferghana residents", soldiers from a training regiment in Fergana. Outwardly, we were very different from each other. We are all mordovorov, blood and milk. After all, in training we were fed like slaughter: chocolate butter, eggs, cookies. And "Ferghanaians" are skinny - they were fed with cabbage alone.
Finally we, twenty-two people, came to the company. There was no one from the 6th training company from Gayzhunai with me in the 1st company. True, several guys from our training platoon ended up in the 3rd company. They lived from us across the corridor.
Satisfied demobilization was already awaiting us in the company, they looked like tigers: “They came!.. How we were waiting for you!..”.
I was appointed the gunner-operator of the BMP-2. And I so wanted to go to the mountains! We leave on armor, while others are thrown somewhere by helicopter. They come back in ten days - well, just like panthers, so angry … As if they saw something real in life, but we did not.
The first half a month we lived in the unit, in tents. In October, the air temperature in Afghanistan is about plus forty. We were taught how to drink water properly. We carried a flask with us all the time. You need to drink only one sip, not swallow immediately. You can rinse your throat before swallowing. And all the time I had to carry my hat so as not to get a sunstroke. But the most dangerous was heatstroke. Then a person may simply die, especially if it happened on the battlefield. If you are in the unit, then the patient can be taken to the hospital, but in the mountains where to take?
For these two weeks we ran cross every day to Paimunar, to the shooting range. This is seven to eight kilometers. It looked like this: they gather all the young (these are several hundred people), build and - run the march!.. We run, dusting with a column … It's like running on concrete, which is sprinkled with cement. First, the people run in three rows, then in ten, then even more. Then, stretching across the entire field, a huge herd runs, raising incredible dust! Those who are in the tail have nothing to breathe from this dust. I quickly realized this, took the machine gun in my hand and forward - tyn, tyn, tyn!.. I think: I will not give up! So I checked myself again and came running first. And he calmed down: since they did not overtake me, then everything is fine, everything will be fine. At the shooting range, we fired all day long, crawled, climbed the mountain. It was very hard … But I realized that if it's hard for me, then it's hard for everyone.
Kandahar
In the fall of 1985, hostilities began in Kandahar, which is five hundred kilometers from Kabul. According to intelligence, the spooks planned to seize the city itself.
Our armor went under its own power. And they took me off the armor, because someone could not stand it in combat. And instead of one of them they took me - you will go with a "pencil", that is, a submachine gunner! I was so happy! It was about the same transition to another life as getting into the landing troops. Of course, not everyone was eager like me. But I thought: since I have come to fight, then we must fight!
We flew to Kandahar on an An-12 military transport aircraft. He flew at the maximum altitude, about ten thousand meters. This plane has a small pressurized cabin, where the pilots are, where the pressure is normal, and the temperature, and the air. But we were loaded into the back of the transport compartment, and there was nothing to breathe in at this height! It is good that my "breathing apparatus" was well set, I did not lose consciousness, but fifty percent of ours passed out. Then the pilot came out and gave us masks. It turns out that there were still oxygen masks: one for three or four people. They began to breathe in turn. And there was also an incredible beater on the plane, an unthinkable coldness! Later I found out that at this altitude the air temperature overboard is about minus fifty degrees, and the transport compartment is not airtight … When we arrived, some of them simply had to be carried out of the plane by hand. Due to the lack of oxygen, I developed terrible headaches, a spasm in my head.
We were told that we cannot go straight to the mountains. We need to prepare. For two days we lived right on the ground, lying in rows near the airfield. More or less came to their senses, prepared for combat. Just then our guys on armor came. They had several explosions along the way. But, thank God, everyone survived.
On the third day we were put on helicopters. I even remember how many there were. Fourty. In each - thirteen to fifteen people fully equipped, each with fifty to sixty kilograms on his shoulders. There are no doors in the helicopter, only the cable is pulled. There are no ramps in the tail either, there are no windows on the windows: there is a machine gun, there is a machine gun, there are machine guns in the windows. So, bristling with trunks, they flew into the mountains. There was a plateau in the mountains where the training center was located. According to intelligence, it was here that the Americans were preparing the dushmans for the capture of Kandahar. There should have been a lot of "spirits", like not less than a thousand.
As soon as we flew up to the mountains, the spooks shot us point-blank from the DShK!.. The shots themselves were almost inaudible: puff-puff-puff … We, the 1st platoon of the 1st company, flew the very first, so we were the first to be shot down … In the center of the helicopter, there is a huge tank with fuel. The Lord saved us, because there were big holes in the floor on the sides of the tank, and the bullets themselves went further up to the engines! Bullets also hit the cockpit, where someone was wounded. The helicopter caught fire, went down, a terrible smoke fell down! And the engines started working with an effort, badly: tu-tu-tu, tu-tu-tu … We began to fall into the gorge. Shooting is heard from behind, the explosions started. But we had no time for that …
Dembelya grabbed his head: just about to go home, and here now we will all perish! But in reality, it was not so scary. The crew was very experienced. They had large smoke bombs under their wings, steel cables stretched from them, which went through rollers into the cockpit. At the ends, two parachute handles were attached to the cables. And as soon as bullets hit the helicopter, the pilots pulled the cables and knocked out one of the two engines. The spooks thought that this helicopter was shot down, and took care of the rest.
We fell into the gorge for a long time, the depth was, perhaps, about a kilometer. We fall, we fall, the engine is working hard … But then the pilots turned on the second engine, the helicopter became stable. And we went along the gorge.
When we began to fall, I immediately counted how long I served in Afghanistan. It turned out thirty-five days. I didn't seem to panic much, because I was preparing for this. I remember the thought came: since it is destined to die, it is better to die with dignity. But the Lord protected us, we flew away from the place of the battle.
But the next two helicopters with the 2nd and 3rd platoons of our company were shot down for real: they crashed into stones. It’s a miracle that no one was killed, although the two helicopters eventually caught fire. The rest turned around and flew back to Kandahar.
Some of the guys in both helicopters lost consciousness from the impact. But those who could think and do something, began to shoot back - after all, the "spirits" immediately ran to the place of the fall. "Spirits" drove away, pulled out of the burning helicopters. Then they took ammunition, a machine gun, spare machine guns. Thank God, they had time before both helicopters exploded.
The helicopters fell not far, five hundred meters from each other. Our radios worked. And they decided to take the slide with the "spirits" on it. The "spirits" could not stand the attack - they left the hill and ran to the other side. Thirty people have already gathered on our hill. They surrounded with stones and took up a perimeter defense.
We flew out of the gorge. We fly over the plain.
Jet planes suddenly appeared. Obviously not ours. It turned out that the gorge went to Pakistan! The planes flew in one direction, then the other. The pilot of one of the planes, who has joined in parallel for a few seconds, shows - get in touch! Then one of our foolishly yells: "Let's shoot him down with a machine gun!" But, of course, we did not shoot down the plane. Our pilots dived down, turned around and went back along the gorge. But in order not to fly up to the place of battle, they began to climb to the top of a high mountain. The helicopter barely pulls, we almost physically feel it! - "Well, dear, come on, come on!..". Someone poked his head towards the pilots: "Commander, maybe throw something off?" - "Let's throw you off!" - "No-e-e, I do not need!..". We barely flew over, literally over the very stones above the top of the ridge, and returned to Kandahar.
We ran up to the signalmen, their radio was on. We take turns listening to the guy who is on the mountain in touch, shouting: “Guys, don't leave us, don't leave us !!! There is a sea of dushmans here, they are marching like a rampart! It's a nightmare to hear something like that! We ourselves have just barely survived, but here our comrades are dying!..
At first, the helicopter pilots did not want to fly. Probably, they understood that this was for certain death. And if they gave free rein to the soldiers, they would definitely shoot these pilots. They swore, swore, but in the end they flew …
But first, the planes flew, bombed the dushman positions. Then the "crocodiles" (attack helicopter MI-24. - Ed.) Rocket and cannon processed the area. And only then "pencils", that is, paratroopers, flew to MI-8. Our platoon was again in the forefront. But this time, no one was shot down on the way to the landing site.
On the ground, ours have won a bridgehead from the "spirits". We landed with the whole battalion and immediately dispersed to different points on the ridge, capturing the hills so that they would not be killed at once during the shelling.
The gorge on the opposite side was surrounded by a very large and high ridge, behind which Pakistan began. On a plateau in the middle of the gorge, we saw a dushman training center: houses, trenches, dugouts. The spooks were not at all afraid of us. And in vain: heavy bombers flew in from the Union, which dropped on the plateau, I don't even know how many heavy bombs. After the bombing, the "grad" installations began to work, then the artillery and tanks worked.
The battalion's command was set up on a nearby hill. The young soldiers and I were left with them on the very mountain where we landed. And the "pheasants" (soldiers who served a year. - Ed.) And demobilization with the platoon commander went to take the next hill three kilometers away. There were four "spirits" there. They just ran away.
Our demobels left, there were demobels left from the battalion management. Everyone had very little water, I had about a liter. And when there is not enough water, you want to drink even more. Usually for combat we took with us two one and a half liter nylon flasks per person. And it was simply impossible to take more. If you put everything together, it turns out something like this: a bulletproof vest eight kilograms, a machine gun or a rifle another three and a half - four kilograms. Four double magazines of forty-five rounds each - another two kilograms. A mortar crew went with us, so everyone was given three or four mines, which is almost fifteen kilograms. Plus belts with cartridges for a machine gun, three kilograms each. Three liters of water. Three dry rations - about five kilograms. Valenki, a sleeping bag, clothes, grenades, bullets in bulk … All together we get fifty to sixty kilograms. And you get so used to this weight that even extra two kilograms immediately begin to put pressure on you.
At night we are on duty in turns, for two hours. And then they stole the water … A demobilization approaches me: "Have you been standing since that time?" - "I AM". - “Where is the water? Did you drink?". - “What kind of water? I have a little! ". “I have no water, other young people have no water. Do you have. So you drank someone else's water. " - "Yes, I did not drink!" Dembel took my water and said: "We will come to the regiment - I will give you a neck in the neck!" After all, stealing water on the battlefield is generally the last thing.
But then a demobilization from another company came up: "Give me water!" The first demobilization: "Why?" - "It's not him. I stood with him, someone else took it. " They sorted it out, sorted it out, but could not figure out who drank the water.
When everything has settled down, I come to the second demobilization and say: “Why did you say that I didn’t take it? We didn't stand together, did we? " - "And I saw who took it." - "Truth? And who?". - “I drank a muzzle from your platoon. Look: if he drank water, then this is a rotten person, he will hand over you for three kopecks. Never stay alone with him on the battlefield … ".
There was silence, the shooting stopped. The end of November, at night it is already cold, but in the afternoon the sun came out, there was no wind, it was warm … The officers were on the next hill. With us there are only three foreign demobels, the rest are all young. And I decided: there are no demobels of my own, and this I do not obey. I climbed onto a large stone, spread out my raincoat, stripped down to my underpants and lay down - I am sunbathing!.. The stone is warm, good … Now there is shooting, now, somewhere, something explodes. And I lie and look from above at a huge plateau below me - eight or ten kilometers long.
It got hot, rolled over on my stomach and I see - our demobilization is back! I, as I saw him, was frightened - after all, he would definitely beat me for these sunbathing! And they will never take me to the mountains again! I jumped off the stone and just wanted to pull off the tent - three bullets are hitting it!.. Explosive bullets, they made huge oblong holes in the tent. I understood where they were shooting at me - the "spirits" were a kilometer away from us.
It turns out that the demobilization returned for night vision binoculars. Thank God that the Angel saved me with this demobilization! Dembel to me: “Now there is no time. But if I come back alive, you will get yours from me! Then I realized that in combat you can relax very quickly. It wasn’t a habit to constantly be on the alert at that time; it came by itself later.
Then I had another unexpected problem. Kuvalda (my friend Sergey Ryazantsev) wanted to teach me how to eat dry rations correctly. He warmed it up in dry alcohol, and poured a pile of sugar on top. He says: "Everyone here eats like that, it's very healthy." I decided to do this too, although I intuitively felt that something was wrong, I did not like this recipe. But he persuaded me, through force I ate this nutrient mixture … And two hours later I started to have such an upset stomach! And it lasted for several days … For this regular puncture, the main demobilization almost killed me.
For a very long time we watched the war from above. The Afghan army had our "Katyushas" from the Patriotic War. They stand in two rows in the distance. Shells fly out, fly, fly, explode!.. Nearby are our self-propelled guns, "grads". And all day we watched this shooting from above, like in a movie.
It seemed to us that no one should be left alive after such a shelling on the plateau, but there were still shots from there. True, in the end, most of the dushmans were killed by bombing and shelling: some died, and the rest fled to Pakistan through the gorge. Small groups that did not leave with the bulk, we finished off one by one. No prisoners were taken, somehow it was not accepted. So we fought for about a month.
…
