The great empire of the USSR quietly disappeared and was erased from the map.
This happened under the tacit consent of the mass of the lower classes and the rapid repainting of the upper classes. Probably, this is how great states have always collapsed, or, as they say now, empires.
And only some organisms of a no longer existing system continued to function, performing there, at the bottom of the hierarchy, the functions that were entrusted to them by the no longer existing government and the state.
The upper echelons were already rebuilding, they had already sworn allegiance, turning their dark deeds under the guise of confusion, while doing everything that would, under plausible pretexts, care about …. to remain at the "feeding trough" of the authorities, or at least at their position. Well, well, that's all, so humanly, if not for one big BUT. Why everything was done through the well-known back hole. Why is it so boorish with people? After all, all of them, the leaders, so often spoke with pride - "We are from the people, from the sakhi"
Such a mechanism, or rather a living organism, was no longer the Soviet Army. The story will go about her!
31.10 91g. became the deputy battalion commander. Tank battalion of the 405th motorized rifle regiment (Akhaltsikhe) 147th Motorized Rifle Regiment (Akhalkalaki). "Driving" together with the battalion's deputy technical officer - Fedorich. I am a young starley both in age and in position - not long ago I was a company commander in the same battalion. Fedoritch is much older than all of us. Respect.
The battalion commander has not yet been appointed and the story is dragging on. I, I can’t or rather don’t want to go to meetings in the regiment, Fedoritch goes there by agreement, informs me, and I already "helm" in the battalion.
The commander of the regiment leaves the Excellent Man, there would be more of them, it seems a former marine, under two meters in height. His surname is interesting, Bozhevolny Vladimir Ilyich, we are in the battalion, we kindly called him "storyteller" because of his habit of leaning the back of his hand-paw to his mouth and telling stories so quietly for the whole regiment, with our "velvet" bass.
Songs, he was with a guitar, when the officers of the regiment were going to sing like Vysotsky, but without strain, and so solidly with dignity. I still remember his "Gentlemen, cadet who you were yesterday …". He was the first to "bless" me to get married and offered to play the wedding in the regiment. - Thank you, but my wife and I answered at home! Not comfortable in front of parents …
At that time, we already began to divide into men and MEN. The man was taller. It seems that he came up with this, if Pashka Ivanov was a platoon commander in 1tr, or if Valerika Khlypalo was a commander of 2 tr.
The soldiers in the regiment began at first quietly, and then "in batches" to flee to their states. Among the officers, a ferment in the minds also began - so to speak, conversations in the lockers. Only in our battalion this did not happen.
The battalion was friendly and Men served there. And of course, we constantly talked with soldiers and sergeants. The argument was simple and powerful in its simplicity. Run away without documents and without a dismissal order in the new state there will still be an army, and everyone who did not serve will be called there … documents.
They stopped paying us a salary, or as it is customary to call a paycheck. They ate, ate made ends meet. I rent an apartment from an Armenian in a house where mostly Georgians live. It seems they do not touch it.
The light is turned on only in the evenings and then less and less. The heating was not turned on, there is an oak tree in the apartment. They all put on wood-burning stoves. Imagine in an apartment building and in apartments pipes sticking out of the windows. He brought a stove, and where to get firewood, the problem is in the mountains, big. I feel sorry for my wife, she is in a position. Cooking at night, a simple feminine feat or the share of officer's wives.
Instead of a paycheck, the commander ordered, at his own peril and risk, to issue NZ. Thanks ! Brought home a lamb carcass and something else. But it was the lamb that I remembered well. Family holiday.
The barracks are relatively warm, the regiment has its own boiler room, but the heat is less and less.
Morning, regimental parade ground. At the formation of the regiment, the commander suddenly stops his speech and, looking over the top of his head, shouts
- What is he doing, whose sentry is there, battalion commander …
We turn and see how the sentry at the post, the weapons and ammunition depots "NZ", approaches the gate near which there is a civilian. Civilian, gets something out of his bosom and shoots - shots, shots, shots.
The commander yells out of impotence
-SVDe to me, but this is not a quick matter.
An armored group flies, from the scouts on the boardwalk - reinforcement of the guard. In a straight line two hundred meters, but in the mountains along the road many times more. While we drove along the serpentine. That's it … Eight bullets, all pierced by the old "Afghan bulletproof vest".
The soldier wanted to light a cigarette !? The cigarette was lying nearby.
Corpse on the parade ground. The commander tells about the charter and what is forbidden to the sentry at the post. The soldiers in the column walk past the killed one by one. A phrase familiar from cadet times “the charter is written in blood” sounds in our brains. Cynically, but there were no more corpses, which means it was effective.
The killer was taken away in white Zhiguli. These white Lada, the sixth model, did not give us and our neighbors from the 10th division, rest either day or night … But more of their attempts to spoil them were in vain.
All the commander is gone. Goodbye, Comrade Lieutenant Colonel!
The new Lieutenant Colonel Kochug is a Moldovan. Let's see, when he was the chief of staff of the regiment "quarreled" because of the orders. Our battalion, then on guard, then in the outfit. Sleep off the night and again on the "ruzho". There are almost no soldiers in other battalions, which is why almost all of them are in our battalion and in the generals from all over the regiment. We are the same every other day on the belt. Plus, there is a duty in tanks in an armored group and officers, in addition to guards and outfits for the regiment, guard the soldiers' sleep at night. On free nights, there is a daily check of the guards and posts. but it was possible to sleep until 10 in the morning.
I remember it as a dream; night, winter barracks, machine gun, window. I follow the terrain, tomorrow the soldiers are on guard, today they just changed - I protect their sleep. The wife sleeps in the storeroom, on the table. I'm afraid to leave alone at home, and it's cold. Then we took our wives to each other. Sometimes we slept in one room with several families, especially when all the men went into the night.
Then, up to 5, 6 families and someone who did not stand in the outfit of married people flocked to Vovka Krasnov - the SPNSh of our battalion, his house was behind the fence of the regiment, next to the officers' dormitory. Be sure to ask the commander for a weapon, a pistol and a machine gun. The men packed at the entrance and the window, the girls had grenades, but quietly.
The Georgians were constantly fluttering their nerves, they did not let them relax, either to us or to the neighboring division. So small provocations, for the "big" uncles in the headquarters.
The commanding officer's order to the officers to surrender their weapons, we have peace! And, no longer give out.
Indignation in the regiment. Why don't they trust. Maybe you will not give on guard? We have wives. we live around the city, not only in a military town. In the end, it is, after all, the officers' "personal" weapon! Weapon, surrender!
I go from lunch to the regiment, I climb the path between private houses, very slippery. Such a snowy winter, a rarity in these places. … Akhaltsikhe, after service in Akhalkalaki - a little Siberian in Georgia, a fertile place, or just a paradise. Near Borjomi, Abastumani, where Russian princes were still treated. But all this was not for us …
Here is the fence and the "break" behind it, Volodya Krasnov's house and the officers' dormitory, a little further the fence and the regiment's headquarters. Near the first break there are two Georgian jerks, 15-16 years old. O! ebvgdyka, in a grenade, the antennae are unclenched, "throwers", children are still, the movements are not skillful. I squeeze one of my fingers. They scream, beat, skirmish, we fall and roll down to the very road. I jump up, yelling at the guys like - are you tired of living?
Local youth are running down the street, a lot, with sticks and iron bars.
Realization - hit, how many of them!
Hope disappears with the first swing of the runner! Thought hit one until it falls. Then the next, the next. Dodge and next. There was a wild pain in my back, another one, blood splattered, fell. Hit the next one, faces change in a wild rhythm. Face, nose, blood, back pain, lizh-would not fall, face, blow, blood, care, face, blow crackle.
-Nikolaich stop, Nikolaich stop. Wait, I tell you. Someone is holding me. Volodya Krasnov.
Awareness.
The fleeing youth and our officers from the hostel. Thank you in time. Your messenger comes to the commander. I go into the office.
-Comrade Colonel Art. lieutenant…
-What's happened. I am reporting.
- Are you okay.
-Yes!?
-And why is the whole jumpsuit covered in blood?
I look as if the overalls are soaked in blood. There is only one scratch on the face. Apparently, once touched.
- Go home.
-No, I need to join the battalion.
-Go home clean yourself up. Wait, you go in my car.
Cool on the UAZ cap to the entrance. And even with security. I go up home and say that I’m lying to my wife about blood in my winter suit. I begin to undress - a wild pain. The wife helps to undress. Tightens the vest.
- Oh, what's wrong with your back. The back is a solid bloody bruise … Yes, a good, civilian population, so hooligans …
I spent a week at home. Cold, but slept off. And again the outfits, duty, guards, armored groups. In the booze regiment, issue your weapons! No. All the same, they gave the officers who live outside the garrison and one at the entrance, or something. Someone snitched on the cap. Order to surrender weapons. Handed over. I personally reported on the surrender of the officers' personal weapons - for the battalion.
Buzzy, until the night. There is still another gang going … how so? I came home at night. The wife suffers from toxicosis. Coldly. He melted the stove, his wife fed it with what it was. We slept in sweaters, under two blankets, and an overcoat and overalls on top.
BOOM, BOOM, BOOM … One big bang. The windows flew out. I flew out of bed, I'm standing by the window. I see explosions in the distant region of the regiment. Pi-c, gang. There is a fight. I can clearly hear the battle, there is shooting. Here are the machine guns, here are the bursts of machine guns. What to do, Already dressed. Tank guns are banging. The wife pressed herself against the wall.
-Oleg, what is it?
- Teachings, Svetik, I forgot to warn you. I'm lying what came to mind. What to do with no weapons, how to break through. And, and s-ki, even the "pukalku" was taken away. I grab the grenades. According to the law of the genre, they will come for me now. The entrance is quiet!
- Svetochka, I have to go, I'll be back.
- And I ? What to do, my wife is pregnant, she cannot run. Shooting. The regiment is fighting. The fight is real. I, Io battalion commander. Which of the officers broke through? probably they put many in the town. The soldiers are shooting back. Well done. Thoughts are like lightning.
-Svetochka, here's a grenade for you, if you stand here, throw it into the corridor to the door. The main thing is not to stick out from behind the wall.
-And what then. Then I'll come, I will! Kiss. Thought, I betrayed her! Not saved!
-Goodbye.
I fly to the entrance. Output. There are a bunch of bijoriks on the street. He unclenched the antennae on the grenades. One in the hand, the other in the other. He clenched the ring between his teeth. I fly out, screaming something wildly and obscenities through my teeth. Local to the sides. I run, I broke through. I'm running.
A messenger flies out to meet you.
- Stop. How did you end up in the regiment?
- I don’t know, I’m behind you, you have the best. Uzbek soldier.
Let's run. The locals are staring at the side of the regiment. They behave somehow strangely. Not arrogantly, no one is pursuing us, they are not stopping us, they are not shooting. They have fear and surprise before their eyes, but not a threat. Yes, what's going on.
Regiment, headquarters. Fedoritch reports to me.
- Our people in the park are preparing equipment, starting up tanks.
Awareness.
There is no battle in the regiment. And I am one of the first. The regimental warehouses were blown up, which continue to explode. The shells fly, there are no casualties.
Thank God this is not a battle. After surviving the explosion of warehouses - baby talk, joke, so toys …
I receive a task from the regiment commander. I fly to the battalion, next to me something falls, flops, whistles. The battalion, the soldier that is not in the park, I arm, some I send to reinforce the headquarters of the regiment, the rest according to the combat crew. I notice confidence in the eyes of the soldiers. I order him to concentrate on the other side of the battalion, safe from the flight of blanks. I run out, together with the soldiers, towards the headquarters. We run in dashes. Night, bang, splash, boom. They reached it. Everything is fine. Handed over by the soldier.
- Shh, where are my officers.
-Where are the officers?
-They are in the park, Comrade Senior Lieutenant.
-How ?
-Yes exactly ! There Ivanov, Khlypalo, Shevchenko, Fedin.
-Fine.
The commander sets the task not to withdraw the tanks, only to strengthen the group's armor. Busy defenses around the regiment. She's already taken. Well, for the sake of order, I suppose. Warehouses exploded, but that's not the worst. There is no fight, which is good.
The battalion officers gathered. Everything; platoon, company, battalion management. Only the political officer is absent. They sent for the wives. Valerka Khlypalo followed Sveta with two armed soldiers. At night, all the wives and children were gathered from Volodya. Closely. But it's warm and safe.
We ran all night, were on duty, drove out the tanks, put the unused ones in place. It's getting light! The entire territory of the regiment was strewn with fragments of shells, grenades, something else of iron and a very large and terrible certificate. There were also solid shells from 125 ml of tank guns. These were the NZ shells of our battalion …
Morning has come!
Here we found out who was worth what and who was worth what. I’ll just say that our political officer, for example, did not come, he appeared in the morning to divorce. He was not alone. But there were very few of them in our regiment.
The feat was accomplished by those who fled from the “town of 11 houses”. They ran past warehouses, which, by the way, exploded until morning. And everyone made a decision for himself. And everyone thought about like me. The regiment is fighting! And those who came running later, but came running, did not feel dexterity
And those who did not come, shamelessly looked into our eyes and told us what fools we are …
And, the locals were even more frightened of our undetected. They are poor fellows, they thought that the Turks entered the city. And, Georgians have a fear of Turks in their genes. And they prayed then, only for us and for us, until they knew what was what.
By the way, two of our Georgian warrant officers appeared only a few days later.
