Fate brought us to the fateful “Komsomol” days of the second Chechen war and tied us tightly with a grenade that exploded under our feet.
“They were hitting the tank from the Fly,” gasped Pevtsov, when, bouncing over the seventy-two, we fell to the ground. A minute later, forgetting about the danger, he leaned out from behind the tank and continued to adjust the fire.
According to the unwritten canons of military science, armor in urban combat is covered by infantry. But the company of internal troops lagged behind by a good hundred meters, and the tank that found itself without cover in the center of Komsomolsk, and at the same time Pevtsov and I, were a good target for the militants who got out of the basements after the bombing. The Veveshniki who were in no hurry could understand: two-week street battles greatly thinned their battle formations - some units were already missing every second fighter. Or the Singers were in too much of a hurry …
Not a single whole house and a tree not cut off by splinters, mountains of broken bricks, corpses of militants, heaps of tank casings, shooting never for a minute and clouds of red - from brick chips - smoke after tank shots at houses occupied by militants - this is how Komsomolskoye looked from behind caterpillars "seventy-two" company of Captain Alexander Pevtsov. Surrounded by Shamanov in Komsomolskoye, Gelayev's gang - the last large detachment of militants who survived - fought to the last. The Chechens, who had buried themselves beforehand, had nowhere to retreat, and there was nothing to lose. The fate of the last battle of the campaign was decided by infantry and tanks - aviation and artillery did not reach the bandits in deep concrete basements. The intensity of street fighting in Komsomolskoye reached, probably, the highest intensity in the entire war. The ruins of almost every house became a small fortress, in which another group of martyrs fought their last battle. After the losses suffered, our prisoners did not take and fought, it seemed, too, with some special cruelty.
… It was the tenth day of fighting in Komsomolskoye. One day was like another. In the morning the aviation ironed the village, then the assault detachments of the internal troops went on the attack. Army men blocked the village along the perimeter. The company stronghold, which Pevtsov's thinning company shared with the infantrymen and tankers of other regiments thrown into reinforcement, was located on the southern approaches to Komsomolskoye - between the gorge along which the Gelayevites passed into the village, and the ravine overgrown with bushes. The "spirits" tightly pressed into the village, judging by the radio intercepts, were out of desperation to break through back into the mountains. Gathering for dinner in Pevtsov's tent, the officers thought about how they would act if the Gelayites went to their battle formations. With the onset of darkness, they dispersed in positions - they were expecting a breakthrough precisely at night. All night long, the gorge was illuminated by illuminating shells and shuddered from the crackle of machine gun fires. Continuously firing at the greenery at the bottom of the gorge, they did not spare cartridges - so that not a single militant, running from bush to bush in the pauses between the "lights", escaped into the mountains.
The tenth day Singers could not find a place for themselves. The last words of the platoon commander, whom, together with five soldiers, he lost on March 5, did not leave my memory:
- Singing, do something, get me out of here!
… It seemed to Pevtsov that years were already separating him from the day when a three-month order came to their regiment to send a tank company commander and several infantry platoon commanders to warring Dagestan. Singers volunteered.
His father and grandfather were tankmen. Both fought: grandfather in the legendary "thirty-four", father - in T-62 in Afghanistan. Therefore, Singers knew who he would be as a child - military guests, military conversations … After graduating from the Chelyabinsk tank field in 1996, he fell under Yekaterinburg. A year later, having brought the platoon to the best, received a company. Soon the company became the best, and Pevtsov became a senior lieutenant ahead of schedule.
When it became clear at the division headquarters that it was not about a business trip, but about a transfer to the North Caucasus Military District, Pevtsov hesitated - to change the Urals to the Caucasus, refusing the shining position of the zakombat … But there was a war in Dagestan, and the fact that the army would soon follow the Chechen paths, there was no doubt about it. The board flew to Rostov the next day.
Another unpleasant surprise awaited at the headquarters of the North Caucasus Military District - an appointment to the 503rd motorized rifle regiment, the city of Vladikavkaz. It turned out that all the vacant officer positions in Dagestan were staffed by the district with their own, while the "Varangians" needed to patch up the holes. There was no offense at SKVO, it was a shame that, while completing the order, they deceived their own people, for plausibility they also gave everyone a bulletproof vest and a helmet.
- Where are you from? - the ensign was surprised when Pevtsov came to hand over this dowry to the warehouse.
- From the Urals.
- What do you have there, in the Urals, in helmets and armored vehicles?
The mood, in general, was not to hell.
Everything changed dramatically at the end of September, when the regiment was transferred to the Chechen border. With the light hand of the regiment commander who invented the radio call sign for him, Singers "Singers" became. Preparations for military operations began - service in the Caucasus began to acquire the desired meaning.
In mid-October, they crossed the border of the rebellious republic. The most difficult were two weeks of standing near Bamut. The expectation of the first battle was depressing, and, to be honest, they were afraid of this legendary place. In the first campaign, our three unsuccessfully stormed Bamut, taking him only in June 96th. This time the symbol of the Chechen resistance fell after a month of hostilities. Pevtsov's tank was the first to enter Bamut. The baptism of fire was successful. Storming the town of missilemen - one of the fortified areas of Bamut, Singing did not lose a single tank, not a single soldier. The war clearly developed further: moving into the depths of Chechnya, Pevtsov confidently commanded a company, and enemy ATGMs and "Flies" flew around his tanks. And it wasn't just luck. The singers quickly learned the main axiom of survival - the winner is not the one who, having discovered the target, quickly opens fire back, but the one who, not yet seeing this target, will be able to feel it and hit it first. Using the capabilities of technology, you can crush the "dukes" without paying for the Chechen hills with soldiers' lives, the Singers realized near Bamut.
- What are the drawers under the bed? He asked one evening in the tent of the commander of a motorized rifle company with whom he shared the defense area.
- Imposed from the division, - he answered, - could not get out. An unnecessary but expensive thing - answer for it now. The SBR is called a short-range reconnaissance station.
- Let's collect it! - the Singers started.
We entered the position. Darkness - even gouge out an eye. We lit up the instructions with a flashlight and collected them. Launched, the contraption immediately squeaked.
- People there! - realized the Singers.
- They will not stick out from there, rather, they made a mistake when assembling.
Five minutes later, the dispute was resolved by signal mines flying into the sky. The SBR was no longer gathering dust under the bed. One of the next nights, hitting her testimony from tanks and machine guns, piled a dozen "spirits".
The singer was really a fan of the technique - he even dried Selikogel. There is such a powder in tank sights - for collecting condensate from the sighting reticle. So that the optics do not fog up. The probability of this, however, is extremely small - therefore, very few people dry it even in a peaceful life. The military literacy of Pevtsov, who for some reason calcined the selikogel in a frying pan, was appreciated by his colleagues near Urus-Martan. When several tanks of another company in the midst of a battle fogged up their sights …
The war not only did not weigh Pevtsov, but even inspired him, every day adding self-confidence. The singer caught himself thinking that in the war he felt even more comfortable than in all other periods of service. When would he still joke with the regiment commander, as under the same Urus-Martan?
Due to the lack of ammunition, the combat mission was disrupted. And then a car drives past Pevtsov, who is bored at the tank.
- Don't need shells, captain? - asks some lieutenant colonel.
- Of course we do!
“Just don’t leave - we’ll bring it in now, we’ll even unload it ourselves - you’ll take it under the signature,” the officer was delighted. - For two days now we don't know where to put them - at least take them back to Vladik …
"Miracles, and nothing more," thought the Song, when an hour later a mountain of shells rose in front of him. I signed it and ran to the headquarters tent. And there the regiment commander warms up the radio - he demands ammunition from the armed forces of the group. Singing sat down next to him and, after a good pause, asks:
- And what, Comrade Colonel, are we not advancing?
- Are you kidding me, Singing? - with a half-turn the regiment did not fit into the timing of the offensive.
- If you're talking about ammunition … there are generally shells …
– ???…
- Kind people passed by, helped.
- It does not happen … - the regiment commander was taken aback.
- It happens, Comrade Colonel. So, maybe let's start the offensive already?..
In a word, Pevtsov's war was going on. As he dreamed, as taught: "seventy-two" crushed the "spirits" without entering the zone of destruction of their weapons. This was until March 5th. Until his tank company and several other units of the 503rd regiment found themselves in the path of Gelayev's two-thousand-strong gang. Having collected the remains and mutilated bodies of his fighters, the Songwriter then learned the most important lesson of war - whether you are even seven inches in your forehead, in war you walk under God every day. On that day, Sankin's short youth ended …
At the end of January, a tank company of Captain Pevtsov, reinforced by an infantry armored group, was digging on the southern approaches to Komsomolskoye with the task of preventing the bandit groups from descending onto the plain in the controlled area. The month passed calmly. But the tension grew every day, intelligence and electronic warfare warned of a possible breakthrough. The predictions came true on the night of February 29. Noticing movement at the bottom of the gorge, they opened fire. The acting regiment commander, Lieutenant Colonel Shadrin, drove down with the armored group and followed the bloody trail, overtaking in one of the houses five bandits who were hastily disguised. The result of the battle - 5 killed and 10 wounded, captured militants. Having driven through the village that day, Pevtsov counted a dozen open gates and saw many women in black scarves. So, not all were taken, - understood the Song, - someone, having escaped the chase, nevertheless brought the news of the dead to the village.
To more reliably block the gorge at the end of which the village began, the regiment commander lowered a grenade launcher platoon. They will go out again - it will be easier to find the bandits, and the heels of the AGS will smash the "spirits" to shreds. At the same time, operators of the group's headquarters stopped by to inspect the gorge. "Shall we withdraw here?" - with the edge of an ear I heard their conversation Singers. Only then will he understand that it was not a question of a special forces group …
The morning of March 5 was no different from any other pre-dawn hours: cold, foggy and damn sleepy.
At 4 in the morning from the mountains, where the company of Lieutenant Vershinin was holding the defense, gunfire was heard. "Mutual, - the Singers understood from the crackle of automatic rounds, - ours are not shooting into the darkness - the battle is underway!" Sleep vanished like a hand. Snatching the earpiece from the radio operator, Pevtsov heard Vershinin's report to the regiment commander:
- I am fighting, "spirits" are immeasurable, some go to me, others go through a gorge.
Leading the company "to battle" - Pevtsov's stronghold was less than a kilometer from the "spirits", Singer again clung to the radio. But there was no longer any connection with Vershinin. Instead, one of his fighters went on the air:
- The company commander died. The platoon commander died, many were killed, the contractors ran away …
Explaining to the soldier how to act, Shadrin tried in vain to retain control of the company at least through him. The end of their conversation Pevtsov no longer heard - a grenade launcher platoon sitting in the gorge under its trenches entered the battle.
Still not seeing the "spirits", Pevtsov gave the command to open fire on brilliant green. The gorge shook from the explosions of tank shells, AGS volleys and the incessant crackle of machine gun fires. But despite the density of the fire, from the bushes, where, it seemed, there would be nothing alive, "spirits" poured down. The tension of the battle and the intensity of enemy fire grew with each passing minute. There were really a lot of militants. “I am fighting, but they are moving on,” the commander of the grenade launcher platoon reported to the regiment commander. "Hold on, I'm sending out an armored group," Shadrin replied. Having driven from the opposite bank of the gorge through the village in two armored personnel carriers, two dozen scouts led by the commander of the reconnaissance company, senior lieutenant Deyev, took up defensive positions on the outskirts of the village and entered the battle. But it didn't get any easier, the “spirits”, on the contrary, became more and more. The density of the fire from the gorge along the Pevtsov trenches was already crazy. The sergeant major of the attached infantry, Ensign Evstratov, will remember for life how three bullets pierced the fur collar of his jacket, and the fourth got stuck in the rifle barrel … Those below were even harder. The situation became critical - everyone was blocked: the remnants of Vershinin's company in the mountains, a grenade launcher platoon in the gorge. Sniper fire from a nearby mountain did not allow Pevtsov to reload the tanks - bullets immediately clattered on the opening hatches. The scouts at the edge of the village sent the APCs back so that the militants, who had come very close, would not set them on fire from grenade launchers.
The turntables loitering in the sky, firing militants who did not have time to approach our battle formations, did not help either. Komsomolskoye could not be held, the Singers understood. The stream of bandits, who had crushed the grenade launchers, poured into the village.
In the midst of the battle, the commander of the divisional reconnaissance battalion, Major Izmailov, ran up to Pevtsov, said that he was sent with an armored group to the mountains to collect the remnants of Vershinin's company. I asked for a tank. Having contacted the commander of the regiment, Pevchiy received an order to go with Izmailov, but convinced Shadrin that he could not leave the battle, and his platoon commander would also cope with covering the scouts. If I could turn back time …
Seeing off the platoon lieutenant Alexander Lutsenko, Singers several times ordered him not to go in front of the column under any circumstances: "You are firepower, not an armor shield."
Having sent the tank, Singers returned to battle. With the arrival of snipers from "Alpha" it became much easier. For an hour, our pros clicked the Chechen snipers working from the neighboring mountain, and the fire on Pevtsov's battle formations was coming only from below. Tanks could be reloaded without rolling out of the caponiers. Only now the shells were melting before our eyes, and the militants, having covered the dry river with corpses, all went and went to Komsomolskoye. Only a month later, Pevtsov and those who survived learn that the plan of the commander of the group, General Vladimir Shamanov, was precisely to drive the militants from the mountains into one of the foothill villages, surround them there and destroy them with aviation and artillery. Without the inevitable losses during a long mountain war.
“There was no doubt that the militants, trapped in the mountains, would try to break into one of the foothill villages so that they could disguise themselves on the plain and dissolve among the population,” Shamanov recalled two months later.
Then I directly asked the general why the grenade launchers, who were in the way of the Gelayevites, did not receive the command to retreat? It was hard to believe that for the sake of the success of the operation, Shamanov, like a chess piece, sacrificed a platoon. “The divisional and regimental echelon commanders didn’t work,” Shamanov replied. Only how could they know about the plans of the army commander, which, I think, were then a secret even for most of the officers of his inner circle.
- Shamanov was waiting for the Gelayevites to leave not to Komsomolskoye, but to neighboring Alkhazurovo, the way to which was generally free, - one of the officers will say later. - Gelaev, suspecting something was wrong, went to Komsomolskoye, not being afraid to substitute his native village.
One way or another, having surrounded a two-thousand-strong gang of Gelayevites in Komsomolskoye and not allowing the militants to crawl across the plain, Shamanov actually decided the fate of the second Chechen campaign. There were no more large gangs and clashes that the militants would have gone to themselves in Chechnya. But another thing is also obvious: if the units of the 503rd motorized rifle regiment of the Gelayevites had not been detained then, Shamanov might not have had time to encircle Komsomolskoye.
… By seven in the morning, the battle began to gradually subside. The remnants of Vershinin's company scattered through the forest, fourteen of the eighteen grenade launchers were killed, four were captured. Until recently, the scouts who stayed on the edge of the village did not share their fate only thanks to the cars “borrowed” from the local population. The last to return to the camp in broken-down red Zhiguli was Senior Lieutenant Deyev with five soldiers. When he was no longer expected there. Artillery and helicopters with might and main worked in the southern part of Komsomolskoye, and the flow of militants walking along the gorge did not stop.
The noise of the working engines of the returning convoy pulled Pevtsov out of the battle. There was no tank in the convoy …
- Where is the tank ?! - Shouted Singers Izmailov.
At the same second, a radio operator ran up to him: Lutsenko was in touch:
- Singing, I'm hit, they walk over me …
From what Pevtsov heard, he was sweating. Lutsenko, contrary to his order, nevertheless went ahead of the column. After a kilometer of travel, the armored group was ambushed. The destroyed tank lost its speed and, in the heat of battle, was thrown by the scouts saving their wounded. There was no time to find out the relationship with Izmailov. It was necessary to save the crew. Hearing the categorical "no" of the regiment commander - a new raid into the mountains inevitably threatened with new losses, Pevtsov decided to act on his own. He could not do otherwise. I went to the reconnaissance platoon, who was coming to his senses after the battle - Senior Lieutenant Rustam Khanakov, whom he had known from the college entrants. He grimaced, but did not refuse. Having planted a dozen scouts on the tank, we set off along the same road. The tank is below, the scouts with Pevtsov are in the mountains, covering him from above. "Cool places for an ambush", - Singers barely had time to think, immediately seeing "spirits" sitting a hundred meters ahead of them on the ridge of the mountain. 50-60 people.
- Box, retreat! - Shouted the Songwriter into the radio, but it was too late. The mountains were shaken by a deafening explosion - letting the seventy-two, hung with active armor, pass forward, the "spirits" hit it from a grenade launcher. Several grenades fit exactly into the transmission. Ammunition detonated. The turret was blown off the tank.
One rush of adrenaline was immediately replaced by another - the militants moved towards Pevtsov's group. Ours are to get away with our feet. There was no chance to defeat such a bunch of bandits. They ran away quickly - where did the strength come from. Branches whipped across faces, but did not feel pain. Stopping at advantageous lines, they shot back. Saved, that did not hurt anyone, with the "three hundredth" would not have left.
After running about five hundred meters, they finally broke away from the pursuit. But they stopped only when they met Izmailov's group, once again sent to collect the remnants of Vershinin's company in the mountains. They were hitting dead. The heart, it seemed to Pevtsov, was about to jump out of his chest. “They did it, for the first time in the whole war the“spirits”made me,” the singer closed his eyes with his hand. From impotence I wanted to cry.
Having come to his senses, Pevtsov went to Lutsenko.
- I am still alive, Singing, the "spirits" are trying to open the hatches.
- I walked, I could not, - Singers answered in a dead voice.
- Where is the fifth bumblebee? - Asked Lutsenko about the tank going to his rescue.
- "Bumblebee of the fifth" is no more, - answered Singers.
And the deathly - more eloquent than any words - silence on the air.
- I heard everything.
Gathering his strength, Singing went out to the regiment commander:
- I'm in the mountains. I lost a tank …
In response - checkmate.
Going out to one of his superiors, Izmailov requested reinforcements and an armored group. No one, except for Pevtsov, who no longer felt fear and in general, seemed to feel nothing, had no desire to go to the wrecked tank with the available forces.
"Drive off the militants with mines!" - it dawned on Pevtsov. The chief of the regimental artillery, who had a fatherly attitude towards him, would not refuse.
- Now, Sanya, now, - the lieutenant colonel put the approximate coordinates on the map. - Let Lutsenko correct the mines according to the sun.
- Singing, the mines are close. "Spirits" piled off the tank, gone! - There was hope in Lutsenko's voice.
So they lasted about an hour. Until the mines ran out. The enraged militants "blinded" the tank, breaking the triplexes, and began to shoot the "seventy-two" hung with boxes of active armor from grenade launchers.
- Singing, they beat me with "flies". Singing, do something, please, get me out of here. That's it, Singing, goodbye … - Lutsenko repeated, killing with every phrase.
It seemed to Pevtsov that it was he, and not Lutsenko, who died in that tank. And the armored group with help still did not go and did not go. And then fate gave them another chance with Lutsenko. The regiment commander finally managed to beg for aviation:
- Singing, the turntables cannot detect the tank, tell us the coordinates more precisely!
If only he knew them! But there seems to be a way out!
- The turntables do not see you, designate yourself as a "cloud", - Singing almost shouted into the air.
Exposing camouflage smoke, "seventy-two" was finally distinguishable from the air. Having entered it several times, the helicopters processed the forest around the tank with unguided shells. And they flew away. After five minutes, the connection with Lutsenko was cut off …
Finally an armored group approached. 80 people on five infantry fighting vehicles - with such forces it was already possible to move into the mountains. Went. Not having met the militants, we got to the goal. A terrible, incomprehensible sight. It seemed to the singer that all this was not happening to him. The 815th tank destroyed by the explosion with the turret torn off and the 816th … The "seventy-two" shot by "flies" with broken triplexes, cut off the antenna and blown up by grenades hatches. There are two bodies on the armor - gunner sergeant Oleg Ishchenko with a head shot at point-blank range and lieutenant Alexander Lutsenko without a single scratch. And without a head … Mechanic - Private Denis Nadtoko was not there. There, on the armor, apparently for the edification of the Russians, was the murder weapon - a bloody Chechen dagger.
- This is mine, - the Singing stopped the officer who was about to pick him up …
Having immersed the bodies on the armor and removed the machine gun from the tank, we moved to the second mass grave. From the crew of the 815th "seventy-two" - junior sergeant Sergei Korkin and privates Roman Petrov and Eldus Sharipov, only fragments of bodies remained. Having stopped the infantry soldiers who had moved to help him, Singing himself carefully collected their remains in the OZK. What was happening at that moment in the soul of the twenty-four-year-old captain cannot be described in a thousand words. Bitter commander's share …
On the way back, they again fought with the militants. "How many more are there in these forests?" - thought Singers, removing from the armor in ten places the body of Lutsenko, shot along the way.
If it were not for the expectation of a new battle, Pevtsov, probably, would have gone crazy from what he experienced that day, being surrounded - both in the village and in the forest there were "spirits", ours took up a perimeter defense. In a few days, Pevtsov and other lower-level commanders who were here will understand that it was not their Chechens, but the troops that surrounded the Gelayevites in Komsomolskoye, and their stronghold was only one of the links of this battle formation. In the meantime, they were surrounded. A total of 80 people gathered on the hill, four tanks, five infantry fighting vehicles. In principle, strength. Yes, only for each "seventy-two" there were five shells left, and the cartridges, when the remainder was divided, went out to the store for my brother. If the "spirits" had gone to their battle formations these days, it would have come to hand-to-hand combat. So for more than a day - without ammunition and even without water (we drank all the puddles on the hill) and sat surrounded. Only in the evening of the next day came help. The Chief of Staff of the 160th Tank Regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Fedorov, with his tankmen.
And soon Lieutenant Colonel Shadrin, the acting commander of the 503rd regiment, moved to their hill. He did not hold any grudge against Pevtsov, who disobeyed him. In war as in war: according to the unwritten laws of the fighting brotherhood of the Singers, risking other people, he did everything he could to save his crew. But some officers from the headquarters of the 58th Army had a different opinion.
- Hands to tear off this captain who ruined people, - one of them will say.
Pevtsov, who could not find a place for himself, was then supported by Yuri Budanov, who arrived later. Who in the group has not heard of the commander of the only tank regiment who, with artillery strikes, congratulated the "spirits" on Christmas during the Christmas truce and walked hand-to-hand with the Mujahideen.
- So you are the Songwriter? - Patted Budanov on the shoulder Pevtsov.
- Singing stuck in, lost two tanks, - answered Singers.
- Do not grieve, Singing, - the colonel hugged the captain in a fatherly way, - this is our job.
Having fought for three months without losses and having lost in one battle, when his tankers in infantry confronted a five-fold superior enemy in the mountains, at once eleven people, Budanov, probably like no one else, understood Pevtsov then.
The "Komsomol" operation was going on for the tenth day. The tenth day Singers lived with the thought of revenge. But in the village the Veveshniki fought with the Gelayevites, while the Armymen still only blocked Komsomolskoye. Having turned the ruins of every house into a fortress, the militants died, but did not surrender. Without loss, it was possible to crush them in these ruins only with the help of army tanks called in to help, some of which the bandits inevitably set on fire with "Flies". Two days after Lieutenant Colonel Artur Arzumanyan, who had gone to Komsomolskoye from our hill, was knocked out, it finally fell to Pevtsov's company to send a tank to the village. Needless to say who drove it? Watching Pevtsov's seventy-two, hiding between houses, go into this hellish meat grinder, in which our tanks burned and our soldiers died, I mentally said goodbye to my friend Pevtsov, who had become my friend during this time.
An hour later, the Singer came back. He said that the next day we would go to Komsomolskoye together. Hanging a walkie-talkie behind his back, Pevtsov drove to adjust the fire of his tankers - in a city battle from a tank it is difficult to determine where the danger comes from.
- Wait, they forgot the kladenets sword, - the Singers stopped the tank when we were already on the armor.
The soldier carried out of the tent a blade with an elbow length - the same one that killed Lutsenko. The dagger was thrown into the tank, and Pevtsov drove his "seventy-two" into the village. Leaning out from behind the tank, Pevtsov clearly adjusted the fire, one after the other suppressing the existing and potential firing points of the militants. And I caught myself thinking that I had never seen Sanka so happy in the two and a half weeks spent with him near Komsomolskoye.
Only then do I learn that the day before, leaving for Komsomolskoye for the first time, Pevtsov saw Lieutenant Lutsenko's watch on one of the dead "spirits" …
P. S. Alas, the harsh truth of life - none of the heroes of the essay received even a medal for Komsomolskoye. The fate of those with whom the author had a chance to meet in the war developed in different ways. The singers, without making a special career, still serve in the North Caucasus Military District. Rassokha moved to the Far East - closer to home. He sent me a letter in which he said that Makhmutov, like him, deprived of awards, having abandoned the army, moved to another power structure. Shamanov, not getting along with the command of the North Caucasus Military District, went to the governor's office and, they say, is very nostalgic for the army past. Budanov is in prison. But they all have one thing in common - in spite of everything, for some reason, they consider the war to be the happiest time in their lives. Why? I also cannot answer myself this question.
