Remembering the war in Afghanistan, I understand that the officers who were most loyal to the state viewed these events not only from the point of view of their international duty, but also in terms of gaining combat experience. Many officers themselves aspired to go to war, and I was one of those volunteers. After graduating from the Academy with honors, I was offered large and high positions in Moscow. And I refused all this and said: "I want to be a commander." I was appointed as a detachment commander in one of the brigades of the army special forces.
In Afghanistan, I commanded the 6th Special Forces Omsb (separate motorized rifle battalion for special purposes. - Ed.), Which is also the 370th separate special forces detachment, which was stationed in the city of Lashkar Gah. He was introduced to Afghanistan in 1985 by Ivan Mikhailovich Krot. I was just then graduating from the Academy. Shortly before that, he came from Chuchkovo (the place of deployment of one of the brigades of the army special forces. - Ed.) And said: “I am bringing a detachment into Afghanistan, in Lashkargah. Study, Vlad, the transfer of units and formations over long distances. I listened to him, and wrote a huge summary for myself on this topic. And for sure - in May 1987 he was appointed commander of this particular detachment, and these notes were useful to me when withdrawing this detachment from Afghanistan to the Union.
Immediately after arriving at the brigade, I asked the brigade commander - Colonel Alexander Zavyalov - to send me to Afghanistan. At first, the question was not resolved in any way - they say, we need you here too. But then a telegram arrives, and interviews begin: first with the chief of intelligence, then with the chief of staff of the district, with the commander of the district. I listened to all of them attentively, and they all told me the same thing: “Look there! If anything, we will film you! " I sit, nod my head, press my ears: "Yes, yes, yes, certainly, of course." And the three of us - classmates at the Academy from different districts - were sent for an interview already at the General Staff. There we were given training specifically on Afghanistan.
When I got ready to go to Afghanistan, I was already married, and the family had a little son and daughter - five and eight years old. My wife reacted very badly to the news of my dispatch. Worried, cried, persuaded not to go. She said: “Don't do this. You fool, why don't you think about us? You want to become famous, to achieve your personal goals, you want to satisfy your commanding ambitions. By and large, it was so. And all the year and a half I fought without a vacation.
To put it bluntly, it was army special forces that fought in Afghanistan, which was the main "workhorse". All the others signified the power of our army - they guarded the roads, escorted cargo and sometimes carried out major operations. The convoy is being prepared for dispatch - this is already an event! Tanks, cannons, airplanes, helmets, body armor!.. Large-scale operations were carried out relatively rarely, and, of course, army special forces groups were in front of everyone.
The main task of the special forces in Afghanistan itself was the fight against caravans with weapons, ammunition, drugs, as well as the destruction of bandit groups penetrating from Pakistani territory. This task was very difficult - after all, as such, Afghanistan did not have an equipped border with Pakistan.
Geographically, the area of responsibility of my detachment was huge: the right flank - in the interfluve of the Hamun lakes, Farah province, and the left flank - the city of Kandahar. This zone included the provinces of Helmand, Nimruz and part of the province of Kandahar, the sandy Registan desert, the rocky Dashti-Margo desert and the mountains.
When I just took over the detachment, two beempe (BMP, infantry fighting vehicle - Ed.) Were blown up in the company of Captain Sergei Breslavsky. I decided to evacuate the group and ordered Sasha Seminash to go through the second channel at Margie's. And he wants to go through Sistanay, which is no less dangerous! In my youth, I was stubborn, I insisted on my own. So the group was ambushed!.. I immediately rushed to their aid. The distance was forty kilometers, we came to the rescue quickly. On the way to the place of the battle, we were decently fired upon, my armored personnel carrier (armored personnel carrier, armored personnel carrier. - Ed.) Was blown up by a mine.
I immediately realized that it was impossible to do without aviation support: “Contact me!”. They called in turntables, artillery fire. The turntables at extremely low altitude fired off the "asoshki" (ASO, heat traps to protect against missiles with a thermal guidance head. - Ed.) And lit reeds to squeeze the "spirits" out into the open space. Not all of the bandits managed to get away. In the battle, they destroyed the recoilless gun, from which the "spirits" were shooting at our armor. This time everything ended well, except for a few lightly wounded and shell-shocked soldiers and officers.
The most unpleasant thing for me as a commander was that only a week had passed since I accepted the detachment. It turned out to be some kind of "checkerboarding" … At the same time, letting them go along a different route through Sistanay was tantamount to suicide. The enemy village of Sistanay presses the road to the same village of Marji. And if ours were drawn between the villages, they would all be banged there.
The desert was extremely hot. Armor and barrels burned his hands. After the battle, they just approached another channel with water, the soldiers seemed to have lost their minds, rushed into the channel - and how let's drink! I shout to the commanders: "At least put up guards!" What is it!.. I shoot in the air, again shout - zero attention! In such a terrible heat, people often completely lose control over themselves and are not afraid of anything, nothing can stop them - such an irrepressible desire to get drunk with water. So I guarded them until everyone was drunk, they began to think at least a little and finally remembered that their life was in danger.
Twenty-eight caravan routes passed through the detachment's area of responsibility, along which supplies of weapons, ammunition, and drugs were transported. In my sector, caravans broke through to the central regions of Afghanistan from the Pakistani side through the Shebiyan pass through the Registan and Dashti-Margo deserts. The bandit groups moved as part of caravans with weapons, ammunition and drugs, mostly at night. Often, bandit groups wedged themselves into peaceful caravans with goods.
In addition to fighting combat caravans and bandit groups, we also carried out other operations. If it became known that a center of resistance to local authorities, the so-called Islamic Committee, or, more simply, "spirits", was identified in a particular village, then we carried out a raid, liquidated such a center and restored government power. They often seized warehouses with weapons, stamps, documents of the IPA, DIRA, NIFA (organizational structures of the Mujahideen. - Ed.), Banners, party funds and so on.
If we talk about caravans, they were either pack or automobile. A pack caravan usually consisted of ten to twenty camels. In a typical military caravan, thirty to forty percent of the cargo was industrial, food products, another thirty to forty percent were weapons and ammunition, and the rest was drugs. Of course, the "spirits" in every way disguised weapons and ammunition as peaceful cargo.
Usually, a peaceful caravan of six or eight camels was launched in front of the battle caravan. And two or three hours later, the main battle caravan was already on its way. The caravan was guarded, as a rule, by a gang of fifteen or twenty people. In addition to them, there were camel drivers, with each of whom there were two or three more people.
Directly in front of the caravan was a group of five or six people - the head patrol. In the core of the caravan, where the cargo was located, there were usually fifteen or sixteen people. All are armed with machine guns and grenade launchers. These were sufficiently trained "spirits", but it cannot be said that they were too good. However, at a distance of one hundred to two hundred meters, they shot quite accurately. Plus, they were familiar with the tactics of small units. If it was necessary to focus the fire of the entire bandit group on one of our soldiers, who fired at them, then they were quite coping with this. They were trained on the territory of Pakistan in training camps, in the so-called Taliban schools. The weapons of the dushmans were mainly of Chinese, Arab and Romanian production. Sometimes we captured "arrows" (portable anti-aircraft missile system "Strela", an effective means of fighting aircraft and helicopters. - Ed.) Polish-made, received from Arab countries.
The spetsnaz detachment itself was large - more than five hundred people in the state and two hundred people to replenish the current shortage. After all, people got sick, died … We were practically in the very south, and it was very difficult to get to us. Every two weeks I drove a convoy of about forty cars to Turugundi, to the border with the Union. It is about one thousand one hundred kilometers. After all, we did not have refrigerators, nor did we have air conditioners. Therefore, all the time we were fed with one stew. Stew, stew, stew!.. No matter how much I tried to achieve something else, I managed to improve nutrition by only a week or two. And then everything returned to normal. This is not Kabul, but the very outskirts of Afghanistan. It was easier for the rear managers - no one knows, no one sees. In general, a flight from Kabul to Lashkar Gakh - this is less than an hour - was considered by the headquarters of the Arbat-Kabul leaders to be almost a military exit: they immediately demanded a reward. For them it was a whole event - supposedly a combat mission! To create a combat situation (so that the commission would quickly leave the detachment's location), I set up combat alarms at night to repel an attack with shooting, noise, and artillery illumination. The effect was irresistible, the commission flew to Kabul on the first plane.
The garrison was assigned the 305th separate helicopter squadron, the 70th airborne assault battalion, which guarded the town, plus an artillery battery of "hyacinths" ("Hyacinth", a large-caliber self-propelled gun. - Ed.), Which covered the town, a platoon of multiple launch rocket launchers " Grad,”a battery of 120mm D-30 assault cannons, a mortar battery and a tank platoon, which we used a couple of times for raids.
"Spirits" sometimes fired at the Eres garrison (RS, rocket projectile. - Ed.). The mortars were not fired, although they tried. Once a terrible tragedy happened. The guys from the special radio communications squad are sitting in the smoking-room, and an eres arrives right in the center of the smoking-room. As a result, three were killed, eight were wounded. We reacted very actively to such attacks - we all went up at once (artillery, aviation, a duty group), found where they were shooting from, and destroyed them as much as possible. So the local population from the nearest villages tried their best to stay away from evil "spirits" - they cost themselves more. The local population was actually quite friendly towards us. The merchants greeted us and were looking forward to buying something from them on the market, they gave us a bakshish (gift) for the purchase. Local residents came to us for treatment. By 1988, the "spiritual" shelling had ceased.
We conducted reconnaissance and combat operations mainly in vehicles, on armor or on foot with the support of aviation and artillery. On turntables, they controlled caravan routes in the desert, led groups into ambushes. They often used captured equipment - Toyota cars and motorcycles. Each company had three to five of these "Toyota", "Nissan", "Dodge".
I had in my detachment two wonderful senior lieutenants Sergei Zverev and Sergei Dymov, group commanders. These unique commandos often captured several vehicles with weapons, and in April 1987 they managed to capture a caravan of twelve such vehicles in battle!
The morning began at four o'clock. I instructed and dispatched an inspection group on two helicopters, twelve people each, on the caravan routes. With them two "turntables" of cover - MI-24 - went up. At five in the morning we were already leaving for aerial reconnaissance of the area. We took off so early because by nine in the morning the temperature was so high that it was difficult for the turntables to fly. The caravans were going at about the same time. From ten to eleven o'clock they got up for the day (a day stop to rest during the march. - Ed.), Because during the day it is impossible for anyone to move in the desert in this heat - neither people, nor even camels.
We fly over our zone and look around. We see - a caravan. We unfold. The caravan also stops. Everyone raises their hands and waving their hands - we are, they say, peaceful, fly on! We decide - we will inspect all the same. The MI-8 with the inspection team is going down. MI-24 are circling in outposts. We got hooked, we jump out. And very often it happened like this: we begin to approach the caravan, and that “peaceful driver” who just waved his hands to us, pulls out a barrel - and let's get us wet! The fight begins.
Once in such a situation, I experienced very unpleasant moments. Then he jumped out of the helicopter first, although the deputy was supposed to go first to assess the situation. The second is usually the cover machine gunner, then the radio operator and the main group. But I moved first. I thought that the caravan was peaceful, and we decided to watch it just like that, for prevention.
We just jumped out and ran - the "spirit" takes out a machine gun and starts shooting at us. And right behind him, several more people opened fire on us. The distance was only seventy meters, and we were still running on the sand - it was difficult, we were constantly falling. Well, I think the end has come! But our machine gunner rescued - straight from the belt from the PKM (modernized Kalashnikov machine gun. - Ed.) He gave a burst, and immediately laid down the first, most nimble, "spirit". The rest who ran, let's raise their hands. But if they start shooting at the group, there is no longer forgiveness to anyone. We looked at it. They had everything - weapons, ammunition, drugs. We loaded the "result" into a helicopter and flew away.
In addition to searching from helicopters, we also carried out ambushes. After all, the famous Sarbanadir trail to the green zone of Helmand passed through our zone in the Registan desert. This is a bare desert, loose sands, a lunar landscape. The heat is terrible … Therefore, we flew along the path in advance on a turntable and looked where it was better to plant the group, so that there was a well or at least some vegetation. We disembark the group, the commander organizes observation in a circle on the likely directions of movement of the caravans. Often they sat for three to five days - no one was there. After all, intelligence works for dushmans too. Therefore, I usually landed three to five groups at the same time in order to block several routes at once in a strip of thirty to forty kilometers.
Of course, it was possible to penetrate through this strip. But we were lucky, and our share accounted for the largest number of intercepted caravans. I think the point was that in this direction the conditions of movement for the "darlings" were very difficult, and one way or another they still fell into our nets, but at the same time they often offered fierce resistance.
My chief of staff was Sasha Teleichuk, a very competent officer. And then somehow he comes and says: intelligence has been received that a small caravan of two cars will follow in the direction of Margie at seventeen o'clock. I told him: "Well, come on, to the turntables - and forward!" He puts the group on helicopters - and flew. We thought that there were only two cars, we would quickly seize them - and the business was over. And in the caravan, besides two cars, there were also motorcycles and tractors. Our people wanted to take them, like rabbits, but the "spirits" unexpectedly showed serious resistance. After that we started hitting them with turntables - the "spirits" jumped onto the motorcycles again and began to leave.
We fought, we fought with them, and in the end we drove them into the reeds near the canal. They did not scatter, but gathered together and struck again. In the reeds, they are not visible: they beat from the shelter, and ours lie on the open sand. Plus, there is a treaty zone nearby (the territory, the control over which, after the "cleansing" of the dushmans, was transferred to the hands of local elders. - Ed.) - the kishlak, from where they brought up reinforcements. The village also supported them with machine-gun fire. The battle went on for about two hours. At the base we were all very nervous about everything we did. In the end, the turntables destroyed the machine gun. They also burned the reeds and destroyed the "spirits" leaving the village.
In that battle, thank God, none of ours was killed, but one sergeant was wounded and Major Anatoly Voronin was seriously wounded. His legs were broken, and he was hit in the stomach. He is from Leningrad, the son of the head of the department of the Academy of Logistics and Transport.
We quickly sent Tolya Voronin to Kandahar, from there to Kabul, from Kabul to Tashkent. By that time, I was convinced in practice that a seriously wounded man must be dragged to Kandahar. Although there was also a problem with the Kandahar hospital - they needed good statistics. After all, it is important for the detachment commander to deliver the wounded to the hospital alive, and it is important for the hospital, in turn, that the wounded do not die after receiving. Sometimes I had to fight well with the admission department and with the head of the hospital.
To our great regret, during the time of my command of the detachment, six people still died. Among them were four soldiers and two officers - Kostya Kolpashchikov and Yan Albitsky. Our losses were less than those of others. Especially considering the nature of the tasks being performed. I think this happened due to the fact that we mostly fought out of the blue, in the desert. In the mountains, of course, it was more difficult, there the enemy has more opportunities for unexpected maneuvers. Moreover, they took care of people. I remember all my guys, and I carry my commander's cross throughout my life.
Junior lieutenant Kostya Kolpashchikov - senior translator of the detachment - was supposed to go on vacation in January 1988. I tell him - go, and he told me: "It's cold in the Soviet Union, so I'll go to the last operation near Musakalu, then I'll fly." Then the chief of staff of the detachment asked: “This is my first assistant. Let him go. " In the course of this operation, it was necessary to break the resistance of the "spirits" in the base area of Musakala, Sangin, and Kajakov. Mulla Nasim and his gang did not allow local authorities to organize the operation of the power plant in Kajaki. It was necessary to carry out a clean-up of this area and weaken the local leaders, who organized resistance to the authorities. For this purpose, a large military operation was carried out.
One of the special forces groups in this operation was commanded by Lieutenant Ildar Akhmedshin. On the way, the group had to parade near the village of Shaban. Here they were ambushed - the fire of the bandit group from the village immediately burned down two of our armored personnel carriers. Four people died in this battle. Kostya Kolpashchikov was slightly burned in the battle. He could have stayed in the ranks, but the doctor insisted on evacuation. Usually, the wounded and the dead are evacuated on different helicopters, and this time these rules were violated. Unfortunately, the helicopter with the wounded and killed on board crashed during takeoff at night … The dead died twice … Kostya Kolpashchikov, Valera Polskikh, the commander of the Kandahar helicopter regiment, the right pilot and several other people were killed. Survived by the "flight engineer" (flight engineer. - Ed.) And the driver of the armored vehicle Lenya Bulyga.
Ildar Akhmedshin received a severe concussion in that battle. At night, when the dead and wounded were brought to the detachment, during the identification I saw - among the corpses lies Akhmedshin - not Akhmedshin, alive - not alive, it is incomprehensible. I ask: "Is this Ildar?" The answer is: "Yes, he is alive, but he is very badly shell-shocked." Ildar was treated in the hospital for six months and overtook the detachment, in my opinion, already in Shindand, before the withdrawal. I tell him: "Yes, you lie in the hospital, get medical treatment!" And he: "No, I will go out with the detachment." Then he commanded this detachment already in Chuchkovo, fought in Chechnya in the First and Second Campaigns. And he died by accident - he was returning from the railway station, and his car was hit. And what is strange - after the withdrawal from Afghanistan, many officers died in the same everyday situations under ridiculous circumstances. I have no explanation for this - after all, during real hostilities in Afghanistan, only two officers died, all the rest survived …
Private Andrianov was wounded in the battle near Sangin. When sent to Kandahar, he asks: "Vladislav Vasilievich, what's wrong with my leg?" I looked - the leg is white, there is nothing special. And the wound seems to be not very serious - the bullet passed longitudinally along the leg. I told him: “Don't worry, now we will reach you to Kandahar. Everything will be fine". Time passes - they tell me that they chopped off his leg. I arrive at the hospital, start to figure it out. It turns out that he spent longer than the allotted time in the admission department, he was not examined on time. And in the same place the heat … Gangrene began. In my opinion, the leg could have been saved. I felt so offended and ashamed - after all, I promised him that everything would be fine!..
About three years before me, in the airborne assault detachment that provided us, an emergency happened - a soldier by the name of Balabanov fled. Why - history is silent. And it was like this: driving, driving, driving, then suddenly stopped the car and ran towards the mountains. So he stayed with the Afghans, converted to Islam. Later, letters from his mother were sent to him, but at first he did not answer, and then he began to avoid contact altogether. Before the withdrawal of troops, we still tried to take him, but he refused and stayed with the locals. We thought he was a gunsmith for them. But then it turned out that this was not entirely true - he worked as a simple mechanic. In general, we did not abandon our people. Now they say that so many were thrown, that they shot their own people, etc., etc. This is bullshit. All who remained in captivity in Afghanistan, for one reason or another, themselves refused to return to the Union.
Indeed, even if after the battle the body of the deceased soldier remained with the enemy, we tried, often at the cost of even greater losses, to pull it out or redeem it. Thank God, no one was captured by me. We fought quite skillfully and did not give the "spirits" any opportunity to capture any of ours. Fortunately, there were no volunteers to experience the Afghan captivity.
But fighting is a terrible thing. It's easy to just talk about it. And there - faster, faster, faster!.. We are already flying away. Calculated - no fighter! We start looking - who is the senior in the top three, where was the fighter last seen? Come on back! And he sits, poor, at the point of evacuation: "I didn't manage to get there!" Most often, such cases occurred due to the sluggishness of the soldiers or commanders. After all, communication with each fighter was one-way - only at the reception. Only the older triplets had a connection for the transfer of the station. It was only by 2004 that every soldier had two-way communication. And we, the workers of the war, did not have such a two-way connection, unfortunately.
I believe that there is no price for our soldier. They all fought with dignity, back to back, never let the enemies come from the rear. Of course, at that time the ideology of collectivism and mutual assistance played an important role. After all, as we were taught - man is man's friend, comrade and brother. Perish yourself, help your comrade out. Plus a male team. Everyone wants to prove themselves, the spirit of competition is present. They say to some fighter: "You are so and so, you didn't wash well, you shave badly." And in battle he proves that he is better than they say about him.
And in battle we are all of the same blood, and red, not blue. Of course, then, when the battle is over, the hierarchy comes into play - we begin to figure out who fought how, who brought water, who drank, who did not drink, who fired where, who hit and who did not. Although, of course, the relationship between the elders and the younger ones was harsh. After all, less experienced people do not know, for example, that all the water, being in the desert, cannot be drunk at once. Therefore, the elders brought them up very specifically, so that understanding came quickly.
And there was a problem with water. During exits on military equipment, it happened that they drank water from the radiators. After all, usually everyone took with him two flasks of water, each one and a half liters. And we had to fight on this water for a week, or even more … Let's say we land a group on turntables for three days. And then the helicopter was overwhelmed, then something else - and after three days the fighters could not be removed. By communication we ask: "Guys, will you hold out for a couple of days?" - "Let's hold out." Five days pass, they report: "Commander, it's hard for us." And helicopters still don't fly. Everyone is dealing with a downed helicopter. Seven, eight, ten days pass … You fly in to pick up the guys - they already begin to dehydrate. What is dehydration? From people only skin and bones remain, and even with this, diarrhea begins. We throw them into the helicopter, we take them to the detachment. There they need to start drinking a little. Yes, a little bit of it - they whip water like that, you can't stop it! We put them in the pool so that they get wet, and they are accepted to drink directly from this pool! After that, jaundice begins to peck … War is war - a terrible and unpleasant thing. I don’t exaggerate. And so it really was.
I would like to say a few words about the Afghans. We had to fight with some of them, and coexist with others. Afghans are people very far from European culture. In communication they are normal, but their understanding of what is good and what is bad is different. I call this understanding Muslim-medieval. Our Uzbeks and Tajiks, who served in the detachment, confessed to me: “It's so good that we ended up in the Soviet Union! We don't want to live like Afghans!"
Somehow a characteristic story happened to me. I had one local Afghan who gave me information on caravans. He was forty years old, although he looked at all sixty. Once I treated him to condensed milk: "Well done, you gave me a good caravan!" After a while, he comes to the checkpoint (checkpoint - Ed.) With a girl in a burqa and says: “Give me a box of what you gave me, and I'll give you my fourth wife. She is thirteen years old, very good! " I call the deputy in the rear, give the command to bring him a box of condensed milk, a box of stewed meat and say: "Take the condensed milk together with the stew, live with your fourth wife, but just hand over the caravans to me!"
Their world is completely different, they have a different worldview. Here's another example - a group is returned from a task. An old man with a boy ran across the road in front of them, and the boy fell under the battery - he was crushed. The noise-gam-tararam begins. The crowd surrounded - they are about to smash ours. I managed to study local customs. I arrived and immediately called the mullah and the interpreter. I say: “It turned out badly, I apologize. But let's remember the Koran and Sharia: Allah gave, Allah took. " Agrees, but says: "The Koran says that you have to pay for your life." I say, “Okay, we're ready to pay. How many do you need?" The interpreter consulted with the mullah and said: “Give me two barrels of solarium, six sacks of flour. A barrel of solarium - to me, a barrel - to a mullah. A sack of flour - for me, the rest - for the family, so that she can live well. Do you agree?" - "Agree". - "Deal?" - "Deal". I am sending the beteer to the detachment. Here is what I promised. And that's all!.. The question is settled! I continued to help them - then I would throw flour, then I would throw in buckwheat. And whenever we pass through this village, there never were any problems - no revenge on their part.
I cannot say that Afghans are evil people. They are just different. Outwardly, they are very similar to our Uzbeks and Tajiks. It helped me that I was born and raised in Uzbekistan. I understood the basics of the behavior of the eastern peoples, had some knowledge of Sharia and Islam and could clearly explain to my subordinates what was allowed and what was not. The detachment was multinational. We had a lot of Belarusians in our detachment. It is interesting that for some reason many Ukrainians gathered in the Kandahar detachment. I had thirty percent Uzbeks, Tajiks, Kazakhs, but in the support units they were all ninety percent!
I remember that after the 17th party conference, political instructors came to us, headed by Colonel-General S. Kizyun. Everyone is so important! And our guys have just come out of the battle - emaciated, ragged, salted, they are dragging a machine gun by the barrel. And then it began: “What kind of commander are you !? Look at how they walk with you: rags, in sneakers, submachine guns and machine guns are dragging by the trunks! How do you allow! " And the fighters looked like that because we tried to go to combat (combat exit. - Ed.) In KZS (protective mesh kit. - Ed.) And in sneakers. It was a very comfortable outfit. The outfit is all in a mesh, it is well blown in the heat, but it is intended only for one-time use in case of chemical and radioactive contamination of the area. And the Komsomol members of the Komsomol Central Committee gave us sneakers - four hundred pairs of our "adidas". The whole detachment went to combat in sneakers, very comfortable shoes. Unfortunately, the uniform quickly turned into rags in the course of hostilities, and new uniforms were supplied according to the established peaceful norms of wearing and could not withstand extreme exploitation.
I stand and cannot understand - what is so unusual about that? After all, people have returned from the war. It really hurt me then: “What do you want, that after fifteen days of war without water, they marched with a marching step, with a song and were fit for all that? There is no such thing. From combat soldiers all returned in rags, tattered. Live, real life was very different from cinema and television.
And the fact that we were always taught to overcome difficulties in the army helped to remain human in such inhuman conditions. And I taught my fighters that we must defeat ourselves, that we must become better and stronger than nature and circumstances. I told them that they are the best, that they can perform the most difficult task, but they must definitely stay alive. “Before getting into any scam, think about how you will get out of it. If you know how to get out - then come on! If you don’t know how to get out, don’t go there, dear!”. We felt involved in a great cause, in a great state, in the mission that we were carrying out. We were deeply convinced that we were bringing progress and prosperity to this God-forsaken country.
We are career officers, and we were prepared for war. For an officer, for a commander, it has always been considered worthy of respect to show his skills and abilities in battle. We felt ourselves to be the sons of veterans of the Great Patriotic War. And the fact that at one time they were able to defend the country and defeat the Nazis was for us an example of serving the Fatherland. And this was the basis of the attitude of almost all officers - ninety-nine and nine-tenths of a percent. And they led the soldiers.
In addition, we felt ourselves involved in a huge, powerful state! And they sincerely wanted to help the Afghan people get out of the Middle Ages and create their own state, create normal economic and social conditions for life. We saw clearly how the same Uzbeks and Tajiks live here, and how they live in Afghanistan! This is heaven and earth. Those who served earlier in the southern republics of the Soviet Union, and then ended up in Afghanistan, were clearly convinced that we were carrying out a noble mission there. And if we help the Afghans at least reach the level of our Central Asian republics, then we will need to erect a monument during their lifetime.
The islands of modern civilization were only in Kabul. And the main territory of Afghanistan is a dense medieval kingdom. And the majority of the local population began to gravitate towards changes - after all, they talked with our Uzbeks and Tajiks. However, one must also take into account the fact that this is an Islamic state, which presupposes the presence of authoritarian leaders. And even if ordinary people do not even agree with such leaders, they obey them according to age-old traditions. Although they lived and continue to live very hard - after all, these are mountains and an almost continuous desert. Sand, for example, for people from the Baloch tribe is a means of personal hygiene: they wash themselves with it.
I myself flew for combat two or three times a week, and once every two or three months I took out a detachment to intercept caravans for ten to fifteen days. Sometimes our groups changed into local clothes, joined the caravans, got on trophy cars and motorcycles and collected information in the area: where is what is going, where is is moving …
Once, after completing a combat mission, we return to the PPD (point of permanent deployment. - Ed.). And suddenly, in the Dishu area, from the side of the greenery (the soldier's name for green zones around villages and towns. - Ed.), They began to fire at us tightly from recoilless vehicles (recoilless gun. - Ed.)! I took the detachment into the desert, deployed the cannons - this time we went out on armor, and even with D-30 cannons. The gunners needed to find a target. For this, we with an artillery gunner on the armor began to move in a conspicuous place. And the "spirits" could not stand it, they started shooting at us! The artillery gunner spotted the target and transmitted the coordinates. As a result, the kishlak from which they were shooting was hit hard. It seems cruel, but why did they shoot? We didn't touch them, we walked past …
I have already said that the bulk of the caravans that came from Pakistan were taken by our groups on the Sarbanadir trail. But it also happened in a different way. Once we fought very hard with the "spirits" in the mountains, in the area of the Shebiyan pass. The pilots were not delighted with the flight to Shebiyan - it was far away, it was difficult to fly in the mountains, it was hot, and there was not enough fuel. And we came up with this - in the area of rocky lakes, about the middle of the way, we made a jump platform. There is a flat, flat place for ten to fifteen kilometers around with a surface of hard clay. We drove out the armor there, set up security. Then the detachment itself approached there on the armor, helicopters flew in. They refueled here, loaded the group and flew along the mountains up to Rabati-Jali, where they could not reach one flight with the group on board.
Once we received data on the caravan and took off. With us was the brigade commander - Lieutenant Colonel Yuri Alexandrovich Sapalov - and another Khadovets (an employee of the Afghan special services. - Ed.). We fly, we fly - it seems like there is no one. Suddenly, with a peripheral vision, I notice that a caravan is standing, unloading. I didn't want to get involved in a battle with a brigade commander on board. I pretended not to see the caravan. We fly further. And the chief of intelligence, Lyosha Panin, such an infection, shouts and waves his arms: “Caravan, commander, caravan! Can't you see, or what? " I told him: "Yes, I see, Lyosha, I see!" Spun, sit down, and swotting begins.
The pilots, in my opinion, did not feel well. I asked them to drop us off closer to the mountains, and they threw us about a hundred meters from this place. We climb on these mountains, and the "darlings" shoot at us. We deployed the AGS (automatic easel grenade launcher. - Ed.), Processed the mountains. I see - the "smell" is running. I shout: "Lyosha, look!" He is melons-melons-melons. The "spirit" is ready! And their trenches were not dug, but the masonry was made of stones - almost a fortress. We quickly climbed one hill, and another - and went to the gorge. We look - such a caravan is worth it! Tents, eres are unloaded, a fire is burning, weapons are scattered - and no one is there. We set up a cover upstairs, and went downstairs to see what was there. Tryn-tryn-tryn - we go down. Everything is quiet. "Look what we got here!" All around there were weapons, ammunition, Toyota cars.
Lyokha first of all began to twist a tape recorder from the car (at that time there was such a shortage!). I told him: "Let's collect the trunks!" And he: "Wait, we'll have time for the turntables to arrive." And then - such a volley of concentrated fire from submachine guns from a hill opposite us from two hundred meters! We threw all these tape recorders - and blew up the hill! I have never run so fast, even a hundred square meters! And Lyokha is an experienced officer, he is trying his best to cover our retreat, a real hero! I told him: "You run away from me, it will be more difficult to hit us!" And he still tries to cover me. Our happiness was not hit: we ran very quickly. I looped and also pushed Lyokha away, but he still covered me. In short, we have confused the "spirits". We run, and our tongue is on our shoulder, there are red circles in our eyes - after all, there was a terrible heat! A little alive, but intact, ran up to the masonry …
Aviation was called. For my detachment in Kandahar there was always a pair of rooks on duty (SU-25 attack aircraft - Ed.). I knew their regiment commander well, so we were happy to work with them. But this time the "blinks" arrived. Pilot to me: "Eight hundredth, can you see me?" - "I see." - "Identify yourself." We light the smoke. They identified themselves. "Are you watching?" - "I am watching." I give him azimuth, range, target - a caravan with weapons on overload. And they are loitering somewhere at seven thousand meters. I to the commander: "You go down at least to three." He: "No, they forbade us to work below seven." They were told that at such a height, the "stingers" allegedly would not reach ("Stinger", a portable anti-aircraft missile system made in the USA. - Ed.).
They started bombing. And Lyokha and I have the impression that they are throwing bombs right at us. In fact, they did not even go along the caravan, but somewhere behind the ridge they bombed. I told them: “Okay, okay, that's enough. Tell the commander that "Mirage" (this was my call sign) was in a difficult situation, let him send a couple of "rooks". We ourselves fight the "spirits", shoot, try to scare them with a grenade launcher. And the caravan is worth it. In about forty minutes the "rooks" come.
“Eight hundredth, watching you. Azimuth, range …”They came too high - at seven thousand. But then, from a combat turn with pitching up (pitching is a turn of a flying aircraft around the transverse axis, at which the nose of the aircraft rises. - Ed.), We went down! First, one threw two bombs, two hundred and fifty kilograms each, then another … In the place of the caravan and next to it - smoke, fire, explosions! They threw from a height of about a thousand meters, like our turntables fly approximately when landing. Therefore, they definitely hit the caravan. They bombed everything. After that, we calmly descend with the group. We are walking normally, no one is firing at us. Lyokha nevertheless twisted the tape recorder from the car that was trying to escape, so they did not hit it. There are a lot of Ereses lying around, everything is scattered …
While Lyokha walked to the side of the car, I went straight with the inspection group. Suddenly, with a peripheral vision, I see a "spirit" who comes out on crutches and shows that he is giving up. And suddenly I hear - ta-da-da! And this is a fighter for a stone falls and beats in the fall of this "spirit". We examine the killed. According to the documents: the commander of the bandit group. I began to educate the fighter: "Why did you shoot, he surrendered, he had to be taken prisoner." And he answered: "Commander, what if he had time to shoot me first?" It all happened in a split second. In this battle, we managed without losses, even there were no wounded. This is surprising, because we destroyed a large caravan.
I think that the spirits just went crazy when they saw us - we were too far from our communications, two hundred fifty or three hundred kilometers from Lashkar Gakh. They most likely hoped that we would not get involved in the battle and inspect the caravan. But the fact that Lyokha and I were not hit at first is a great success. It could have ended very badly. But we were so sure that the "spirits" would abandon the caravan and run away that we went so openly. It turned out that we began to descend only to a small part of the caravan. There the fire was burning out, the weapons had already been unloaded. But then it turned out that there were still a bunch of stacks around the bend.
There is, of course, little pleasure in this whole story. You don't feel in a fever, you don't notice anything. And then, when you return, you begin to see that your knees are knocked down, your elbows are torn, your fingers are broken. And most importantly, there is a return in a purely psychological sense.
The first to leave Afghanistan were army special forces detachments, which were stationed in Jalalabad and Shahjoy. And in August 1988, I also led my detachment to the Soviet Union in Chuchkovo. Detachment 177 was the last to leave. On TV, they often show General Boris Gromov crossing the bridge on February 15, 1989, the bridge over the Amu Darya River, and the guys on the armored vehicle with a banner. So this beteer was just the 177th detachment.
At the withdrawal, the detachment went as part of the brigade. The first rest was in Shindand. They went through customs, confiscated everything that was superfluous so as not to get into the Union. A meeting and a parade of withdrawn units took place in Shindand. Correspondents from our and foreign newspapers, as well as the writer Alexander Prokhanov, rode all the way from Lashkar Gakh to Kushka. Shortly before the withdrawal, he arrived in Lashkar Gakh, lived in the detachment and got acquainted with our combat activities. In Herat, my armored vehicle with writers on board was fired upon from the crowd. The radicals wanted to provoke a return fire, but the brigade commander, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Timofeevich Gordeev, showed enviable restraint - and the provocation failed.
The detachment as part of the brigade made a 1200-kilometer march from Lashkar Gakh to Iolotani. The first thing that I saw on our side, having crossed the bridge, was a shed with huge letters "BUFFET". In Iolotani, we put ourselves in order for several days, awaiting loading onto the train to Chuchkovo. In Iolotani, General A. Kolesnikov from Headquarters "popularly" explained to us that the Afghan war in the Union was unpopular. We were not ready for this. While in Afghanistan, we could not imagine that the collapse of the Union was being prepared. The train went to Chuchkovo for a week. On the way, my deputy, Sasha Belik, almost fell behind the train, but that's another story.
And in Chuchkovo, in the end, everything turned out very interesting. We are bringing the echelon to the place of permanent deployment of the detachment in Chuchkovo. I stand and discuss with the commanders the procedure for unloading. And suddenly we see - a woman is running along the rails far from us. The brigade commander, Lieutenant Colonel Anatoly Nedelko, who was standing next to me, said: "Listen, this is your wife, probably running." I answer: "It cannot be, I did not invite her, she does not even know where we should arrive for unloading." I don't have time, I'm unloading a train, what kind of wife is there? It turned out to be really a wife. Nobody knew when we would come here. How did she know the time and place? Until now, this remains a mystery. But she came from Estonia to the Ryazan region on August 31, and on September 1, the son without mom and dad went to the first Estonian class. It was an amazing event. I am still very grateful to her for that.
