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forgotten about them. No food, no water, no nothing. They start to wander
what to do. Suddenly he makes a suggestion: "Let's all convert to
Islam". His friends ask him: "Would it help?" He says:
"Not really, but we could make a soup out of the shreds!" -Sashka
cracked up.
We grinned at his joke and the news.
- Guys, I work here in supplies now, come on over at some stage. Now
I've got to run; somebody beat the shit out one of the grunts in the
hospital.
With our jaws dropped from surprise about Sashka's new appointment, we
picked up our pace to catch up with the rest of our group. We cared not for
the hospital grunt's health. I bet his skull is fine. Nosebleed is nothing,
probably tripped over something in the dark. Could anybody possibly punch
such a wonderful young lad? I don't think so. As for the officers: he
must've dreamt them while splayed out dazed. With his excess weight and high
blood pressure it all could've been much worse. He must go on a strict diet,
dear doctors. Or better yet, give him to us for a week. You won't recognise
the fellow then.
Some officer came out and said that General Rolin is busy at this stage
and will be free to meet with us in about ten to twenty minutes. They are on
the telephone with the Defence Minister. Fine, let them talk. I'm pretty
sure, nothing good will come out of that conversation. Meanwhile our
Com-brig left to radio the brigade's HQ to see how they are hanging.
We saw Sashka returning and called him:
- How is the busted up grunt, Sasha?
- He's telling some bullshit that two officers beat him up. He wet his
pants while unconscious. His description, - he stared at us with suspicion,
- sounds like you two.
- Sashok, you don't seriously think that we could bust up the soldier.
Personally, I only squeeze throats, - I started.
- And I usually shoot nuts off. You know us too well, - supported me
Yurka.
We gazed at him upset, as to demand that all accusations be dropped at
once.
- I sure do. Mad cranks. I've seen a lot of you two. You wouldn't care,
for yourselves or for anybody else. So, did you bust him?
- Sasha, - I again spoke in the smooth voice, half-hugging him, - my
dear man. Please explain to us, as you have put it, "mad cranks",
what for did you run back to the hospital? We never noticed anything
merciful about you. Even when we brought over our casualties, you,
apparently, were so busy, that had totally forgotten to come and greet your
friends.
- Which, by the way, came to your rescue when the ragheads pinned you
down badly at the edge of the airfield, - continued Yurka, - and (somehow I
don't feel comfortable reminding you this) you swore by all saints that you
will never forget about your saviours.
- And now, my dear friend, you are about to sell off your guarding
angels like bad meat at a discount price. - I picked up from Yura. - We, on
the contrary, never even mentioned the fact that your lad was dropping
liqueur at sky-high prices, and, son of a bitch, even tried to threaten us
with a pistol. So, Alexander? I reckon your guy just hit his mug against
something, a?
- What did you do him for?
- He told me bluntly to get stuffed, and didn't apologise. Get that.
- I'll teach the bustard manners.
- Sasha, since we have found common ground, I could now make you an
offer to get us some of that humanitarian aid.
- But you've snapped it already.
- Shameless lies, false allegations and groundless attacks, - Yurka
stated with style, - we never stole anything, we bought it for five bucks.
Or five thousand rubles. It was dark in there, rubles or dollars, all in the
same pocket. Is that true Slava?
- It's the truth. I've paid him off myself. I reckon that your sidekick
is trying to hide some of that illegally made profit from you. By the way,
we only bought one piddling six-pack of itsy-bitsy beer cans, you know, and
a pack of cigarettes, and you, after all this, refuse to gear us up
properly.
- Just imagine, - Yura was unstoppable, - if we were killed in action
(God forbid of course) you would naturally be sad. Because you never gave us
three sticks of good salami, Vodka of the well-known Moscow brand
"Crystal", a few bottles of good cognac, surely some cheese for it
and a few more bits and pieces. And we will visit you in your dreams
reaching our hands out to you and yell, - we started grabbing him like
vampires, - "you, cheap bastard!"
- Yeah, Sasha, - I interrupted, - I might survive without a pair of
beer packs and good cigarettes, but it would be nice of you to throw in some
dry fish for the beer and
- That's enough. Please give me some water, ma'am, cause I'm so hungry
and have no roof for tonight, - Sasha copycatted us. - If you two hadn't
saved my life, you would've been eating free food in the brick by now.
- That's why, during that gunfight I said to Slava: "Hey, look at
that officer dying there for nothing. Let's save him and he, when highly
appointed, will be feeding us for the rest of the war." Slava, confirm
please.
- God, strike me by lightning if it's not true. Hey, that would be
cool, for a week or two, to rest up in the brick. Food three times a day,
clean sheets, steam-room. - I closed my eyes stargazing. - Nirvana! Sasha,
could you send us to that prison of yours and your scumbag will change his
confession in exactly two weeks from now. Let's say he mistook us for
somebody else and they'll let us free. By then the war could too be over.
Think about it Sasha. I'll buy you a drink for that.
- You're naturally delirious. Spooks don't call you "dogs"
for nothing. You are obviously mad and dangerous.
- We are about to go and see our Commander in Chief now, listen to him
trying to talk us into the Minutka assault. So, I'm thinking to suggest that
he takes his own regiment off the airport guard duty and throw it at the
Square. Meanwhile we would pull security here. Then, after you guys take the
Square, we might move on. How about that, Sash? By the way, have you tasted
all the girls around here?
- No, they are all taken. No chance.
- Don't be stingy and give us one. We'll return her, don't you worry!
- You are mad, mad I tell you!
A deputy assistant emerged from the HQ and called us in.
- Sasha, we'll be there for about forty minutes, so, don't forget that
humanitarian aid, we talked about or we'll come to you in your dreams. Tell
your lad that if he's ever rude to us again, he won't get off this easily.
Wait for us and we'll be back, you'll see, -- I cited a line off a
well-known poem. - And dear, don't forget the beer, the rest is a must.
Yura even blew him a kiss.
- We'll meet again, darling!
Sashka, spewed aside, clearly showing his attitude towards our giddy
behaviour. Passing grunts were watching this whole scene with surprise.
We walked into the airport tailing the rest of the group, hurriedly
finishing off our cigarettes and chucking off the butts. At war we usually
smoke, concealing cigarette in the fist. That way sniper wouldn't see the
flash. This habit worked around the clock, night and day. It makes cense
like this. If your habits are different throughout the day, it is easy to
make that one fatal mistake.
All of us walked into the boardroom where we met the Commander in
Chief, General Rolin and our general Zaharin. In the past his surname was of
Armenian origin, but after the fall of the Union it was suggested to him
that he change it. That's how he turned from Avakian to Zaharin (his wife's
surname).
Sandbags plugged all windows in the meeting room. The poor light didn't
reach the corners where all people looked like shadows: Comms officers,
deputies and the rest of the General's aid as well as a few of those who
couldn't miss the opportunity to kiss his ass.
- Please be seated, gentlemen, - Rolin rose and shook Bahel's hand then
simply nodded to the rest of us.
- I have just spoken to the Defence Minister Grachin. At the high
level, - Rolin emphasised the words "high level", - we came to the
decision to assault the Minutka Square structure. I was appointed head of
the operation and you would be carrying out this complex and demanding task.
At the end of the speech his voice turned exultant. I wonder if he and
Karpov had the same teacher in the academy, although, he's not from Moscow.
Hell knows "who is who" in their HQ.
- Our operative group, together with the General Headquarters, has
devised a plan, which was successfully signed off by the Defence Minister.
General Zaharin has just familiarised himself with it. I'm also asking you
to listen carefully here. Correct completion of this task will allow us to
eliminate the rebel forces, led by Dudaev, in the shortest possible time.
They are all now concentrated in the Government Bank Building and in the
so-called Dudaev's Palace, - he pointed his finger at the map laid out on
the table. (Judging from the expression on Zaharin's face, he was not overly
impressed by this plan), - The rest of the buildings, around the assaulted
area, are not important and of not particular interest to us.
It was amazing that a military officer, planning such a blood bath,
treated structures surrounding the assault area with such neglect.
Obviously, the rebels would defend those houses not mentioning the two
bridges, which are for sure fortified and densely mined.
In the Army, we've got three objectives: immediate, next and major. We
always start at the immediate one, then, come to the next and after that
arrive at the main. If people start with the main target, moreover,
mentioning names such as Dudaev's, that is politics. Politics means death to
soldiers. Because these morons never think of people's lives and
consequences, all they're interested in is the result and the timeframe,
regardless of the cost. Jesuitical axiom.
We all stared hard at the map. It turns out that we had to cross both
bridges in almost parade style. What if we didn't make it over? Or only
parts of the assaulting force would cross. The spooks will for sure blow up
the bridges. What's then? Then, those who did make it across, the quicker
ones, ragheads will slaughter like sheep before our own eyes. No one of us
liked this adventure. We are professional soldiers and learnt to risk our
own lives and lives of our men back in college. But to perish foolishly like
this - please, let me out of here. All faces in the room turned grim.
Everyone understood that if we don't stand up for ourselves now, gloomy end
of the Micop Brigade would soon seem like an innocent walk in the park. This
was not even the Central Train Station. This was their President's Palace,
symbol of their national pride. The only solution seemed a nuclear bomb drop
or a long and laborious air assault.
From inside the shadows, emerged the so-called Chief of Staff of the
allied HQ, Colonel Sedov. No one knew much of him, but wars often promote
great men as well as losers to the top of the military ladder. I,
personally, couldn't hold anything against Sedov, but if it was he, who
devised this plan in the first place, he wasn't a loser then, he was a
criminal in ranks. Sedov began to speak. His conduct was well schooled. He
didn't seem threatened by Rolin at all and it probably wasn't his first time
in a company like this. Judging from his parched face and military posture,
I figured he was a line officer. OK, let's see what he's got to say.
- General and gentlemen, - started Sedov, - our opponent concentrated
his chief forces in the Minutka Square area.
"Tell me something new" - I thought to myself.
- That's why to finally break his resistance, demoralise him and flush
out of town, you are to carry out plan, signed off by the Defence Minister
and approved by the Commander in Chief, - now it seemed like Sedov was
admiring himself in the mirror. His was irrupting with pride,
self-importance and the fact that this plan was his idea - now all doubts
about the authorship were gone - he did it.
- You are to quickly capture the bridges over the Sunzha River on the
run and dash through the square, then, capture and destroy enemy infantry
inside the Bank building and Dudaev's residence, so-called Palace, - Sedov
continued to sing.
"Hello my baby, how are you today?" - breezed through my
mind.
- To carry out this assault, several airborne elements, marines and the
Leningrad regiment will complement your brigade. You will also have
artillery and air back up.
The most interesting part was that no one indicated unit numbers of the
supporting force and the amount of back up we would supposedly receive.
Would that be one air-wing or an artillery division? Altogether, the plan
seemed raw and superficial. In case of failure, we would obviously take the
full blame. Nice future!
- The time for the assault was designated two days from now. During
these two days you are to promptly take hotel "Kavkaz", then
reassign it (to whom!?) and move out to the Square, - Sedov, it seemed, had
it all figured out nicely and naturally we should've too, thus right now
scooting out of here and capture the Square. Absolute foolishness!
- General, gentlemen, I'm finished. Any questions please? - Judging
from his tone, he must've thought that only degenerates and morons could ask
questions - what can you possibly expect from siberian mahra?
- What are the estimates of the enemy force at the Minutka complex?
Their armament, mine fields around the square and bridges? - Quietly but
sharply asked our Com-brig, emerging from the shadows.
- The amount of the rebel force does not exceed three to four thousand
men (I like the precision. Who cares? One less thousand or one more
thousand). Their armament consists of standard issue small arms plus GP-25s,
RPG-7 grenade launchers and light company mortars. (How about darting around
a flat square under the shower of mortars?)
- What about the bridges?
- We do not have any precise information whether the bridges are mined
or not. All approaches are heavily defended with nests and blocks without
any possibility for proper reconnaissance at this stage. However, we are
constantly working on it. Also our local supporters constantly inform us.
We all smiled at this statement. A chechen would rarely sell another
chechen, but to bust a non-believer is always a delight.
- You are all laughing vainly, - Sedov turned nervous, - recently in
Moscow a question was raised from the local opposition's initiative, whether
this invasion and senselessly violent actions have caused this republic an
irreparable economic damage and set its people against us. Partisan movement
is growing stronger by the day (really?). Because of that, there is a
notion, that we under no circumstance kill the rebels but only disarm them
and let go home. In their majority they are only frightened peasants. The
spring is coming so is their crop season. Otherwise they'll all die of
famine.
- So the hell with them! - I let it out in the mortal silence. Everyone
instantly burst laughing and I attracted attention of both Rolin and Sedov.
Yurka nudged me, but it was too late by then.
- You must've missed the point, comrade - Sedov looked at my shoulder
flashes and seeing no stars continued, - By the way, why aren't you wearing
your proper insignia?
- Scared of snipers, comrade colonel, - I replied modestly, although
was close to making a huge scene.
- It's all horseshit. Do you think that snipers are interested in your
stars? I don't think so. How would you lead your men if you don't have your
insignia?
I was just about to burst into a long and unflattering speech about
shoulder stars and my opinion about his lousy plan. I am no hero, but at
war, you figure out quickly that there is no deeper shit than this, well,
may be only if you're wounded. Other than that - screw them all. You want to
fire me - be my guests!
But Bahel outpaced me; he must've guessed what is going to follow and
thus quickly spoke:
- Comrade general, we'll work out later why captain Mironov is not
wearing his stars. That was me who allowed my officers to take them off. I
am for now more worried about the forthcoming operation. The timeframes you
have set for us would not allow our brigade, which has been engaged in heavy
fighting for weeks, to rapidly, without proper preparation, redeploy and
carry out your assignment (Bahel emphasised the word "your"). I
recommend you immediately give the order to commence sustained air and
artillery strikes at the square network. That must continue on until the
time comes for us to move into the area. Two hours before the assault,
airborne reconnaissance units must capture the bridges and keep all attempts
to blow them up at bay. By the way, could you tell us exactly which airborne
units would act as our aid? In my opinion, frontal assault of the Minutka
Square is a senseless suicide. I will not follow orders, which would
literally mean running my men past a firing squad.
- Do you understand what you are saying, colonel? - Rolin was furious.
- I will make a phone call to Grachin and have you court-martialed! I will
have you arrested on the spot! You'll be on the first plane to Moscow! You
know how many men would want to take up your spot?
- If it would save my men from slaughter I volunteer to write my letter
of resignation immediately! - Now Bahel was enraged. -You are afraid to
blast the shit out of this f...ing square from the air, but at the same time
you are OK to drown in blood a few thousand soldiers! You better think of
that first before you think of your public image
- Shut you mouth, traitor! - Rolin erupted. - You are out of your god
damned mind, colonel. You're a coward. I'll grind you into powder in five
seconds. And you What are you all looking at? Get the hell out of here!
No way, general, we'll tear up anybody for our commander if he only
tells us to.
- We uphold our CO's opinion that this is a sheer suicide to storm the
square without preparatory air and artillery runs, - somebody from our group
summarised the situation.
- Does everyone think like that? - Rolin squinted and looked around
heavily. - Out! Get out! Guards! Get them all out of here! Disarm them!
Convoy the traitors to the brick!
We only huddled closer in response. Silence set about the room. Mortal
Silence The door opened and two privates and an officer entered, ready to
carry out any order their commander gives them. All of us prepared for the
worst possible outcome. General Zaharin suddenly interrupted the silence -
what a brave man.
- Let's all not make any rush decisions. We will let the officers go
breath some fresh air for now and ourselves stay in here and discuss
possible solutions to fix this situation. Let's keep our cool and not make
any sudden moves. We all understand that a frontal assault would be
dangerous, but together we must find the ultimate solution, - and now
addressing us, - go gentlemen, wait outside, nothing is going to happen; I'm
giving you my word.
- Go, - The Com-brig told us dryly.
We left the room. All of us were quivering. The guards were following
us closely. Someone grabbed their chief and whispered:
- If you bitch, even think about arresting our commander, I'll kill
you. Get it?
- What about my orders? - He asked in scare. His grunts kept away by
the walls.
- You want to live?
- Yes!
- If you are given the order to arrest him, we'll ambush you. During
the ambush you'd give him up quietly. Understood? This way we'll let you and
your grunts live. Did you understand everything I just said?
- Yes!
- We'll now move our vehicles up a little closer. Don't panic. When our
CO comes out with your general, we'll get in the cars and leave. We don't
want your blood, but if you stand in the way, we'll kill you. Understand?
You know who we are?
- I do, you are "the dogs". I understood.
- You don't know anything. We're no dogs we are mahra. We'll tear you
up if our commander is in danger. That's all.Now go. And if you or any of
your grunts make a peep, you'll all die. You like that?
- No I don't.
- That's right. We are here to fight chechens, not each other. They
want us to storm Minutka head-on. Basically they want us dead. But we don't
want to die. That's why Rolin is angry. Go and don't make any trouble.
- OK, I've got it. I've heard you guys are real madmen; but to jump at
Rolin like that, is beyond everyone's expectations. You guys are total nuts!
- Chief of the guards has already recovered from his shock and was walking
with us towards the exit. His face expressed both admiration and distrust at
the same time.
All of us came out steaming hot. Everyone lit up and was inhaling
hungrily, digesting the newly received information. Since he was the
youngest one of all, our recon unit leader was sent to move the armour
closer to the airport. Chief of the guards was told to give the order to
allow that.
- Are you nuts, men? I'll go down for this! This is crazy!
- Do we have to tie you up or what?
- Tie me up, kill me, do what you want. I can't give that order. Full
stop.
- OK, chill out. We won't move the cars beyond your posts. Are you
happy with that?
- Fine by me. But if you move in, I'll have to open up.
- OK, fine.
We all knew perfectly well what disobeying an order could lead to.
Especially in a war-zone, it could result in anything up to the firing squad
without court-martial or even an investigation. The Military Law states
clearly: "An order must be carried out undisputedly, entirely and in
time. After the order has been carried out it can then be challenged."
Who can then challenge that order after our entire brigade will be
slaughtered on this fing Square? Whoever lives through, we'll be permanent
mental home clients.
Yep, this looked like an armed rebellion. What else our open refusal to
carry out an order could be called?
- Slava, what do think about leaving, ah? Like the
battleship"Poteomkin". Yurka asked, inhaling hungrily. - How about
Turkey?
- With our APC, via the Black Sea bottom. I'd say not such a bad idea.
Don't be silly. We haven't done anything illegal as yet. There is a statute
in the Military Law that if you consider that a given order violates The
Constitution Laws, you have the right not to follow it*. To lead your men
out there now means death. Take Chekhoslovakia for instance. Maybe just a
bit bigger then Chechnya but back then preparations took six months. Over
here, it was thrown together ad hoc. Because over there it was considered
overseas, here, on the other hand, inside the boarders, the bustards can put
down a million soldiers on both sides, no one would notice. I chucked off my
cigarette and pulled out another one. Unaccustomed to the weaker tobacco I
just couldn't get enough. - Look, Sashka is coming over with help!
Next to the walking, with important look on his face, Sashka, was
dragging his feet under a weight of two heavy boxes, our old acquaintance -
corporal from the hospital with a patch across his nose and two black eyes.
- We told you to watch your manners, sonny! - Yurka and I were smiling.
- You brought it on yourself.
- Don't be so ill mannered, young men, or you'll die before your
discharge. - I added. - If had punched you a little higher, could've crushed
your skull. You are a lucky lad, my friend, we could've held on until you
make your move with a pistol and cut you open right there without a hint of
anaesthetics.
Sashka came just in time. For once, his appearance distracted us from
our bitter thoughts. I had no desire to become a criminal while I am a
patriot in my heart. Nor did I want to lose all my men at the square and
then shoot myself. I don't think, as an officer, I could live on with such a
heavy weight on my shoulders. What I did want was to get totally shitfaced.
Those two boxes contained liqueur that would, at least for a short while,
let me avoid making this horrible choice. However, we can't do it here and
right now. Or they for sure would accuse us of drinking on the job. All
present knew it well.
- Did you guys just declare a rebellion? - Sashka was alarmed. - You
stirred up some havoc. People are talking about your capture.
- No, we just said that you have expressed desire to lead your company
ahead of us at machineguns on the square, but he turned stubborn. Just
wouldn't let you go full stop. He says that he would never allow his beloved
captain to die like this. But you bastards, says he to us, I don't give a
shit about. Go, perish, the whole brigade of yours with Colonel and General.
I'll throw a medal in every one of your coffins, - I was again filling up
with rage. I knew that neither Sashka nor the grunt had anything to do with
it. I just needed to take it on somebody.
- Or Sasha, you could donate this scumbag to us. We'd write up the
request for transfer and he'd sign it at the gunpoint of his own pistol. In
fact I think he'd sign anything. Nobody would notice the gunshot. As for the
body, we'll stash it somewhere far in the debris. What do you scum think
about that?
I was waiting for anyone of them to reply, at least with a gesture of
some kind. But they were both speechless. My mood was gloomy and ferocious.
All my feelings and thoughts were now motionless, bound into a tightened
spring, ready to pop open with a gigantic charge of energy. But they were
still speechless.
- Sasha, did you load up everything we talked about? - I was gradually
getting the grip on myself. But the spring was tightening stiffer and
stiffer, sharpening all my senses already sharp as it is. - Let's go load it
up.
We wondered off to our APC. I walked ahead, then corporal and Sashka at
the tail of the procession. Thick mud was everywhere and the sun already
started to set. I opened the infantry hatch and the grunt began to load
Sashka's gifts inside the compartment. Sashka finally came over. I booted
the grunt's ass, he disappeared inside the vehicle's belly and I slammed the
hatch behind him. Then I grabbed Sashka by his vest, pressed him against
APC's wall and drew my pistol. He face turned white and eyes widened. He
looked at me then at the gun.
- Now tell me who gave the order to encircle us. Hurry up, you know
we'll either die now or later anyway.Hurry up, bitch, tell me all.
Yurka came up behind me.
- The ring is getting tighter. It'd be pretty difficult now to make our
way into the building. They've dragged in there about a company of men, no
fewer than that.RPG gunners are in there too. The range is damned close. -
Yurka was absolutely deadpan and ready for action.
He said to Sashka:
- Come on, man, tell us who said what and what's the order?
- Sedov came out after you left and ordered not to let out of the
airport area. The passwords are already changed. The building has also been
secured. If you make an attempt to fight your way out or inside the
building, we are to open fire without warning. He said you're planning to
change sides. I was given the order of distracting you, get you drunk or
something. That's all. Let go me. Still, you're madmen. What are you going
to do with the grunt? - Sashka was rubbing his neck.
- Take him. He must've shitted his pants by now. What's the password?
- I don't know. They only told me to get you drunk and get out quick.
What do I tell Sedov?
- The truth. The grunt will confirm. So, they'll start the onslaught
soon since you've been told to promptly get out. OK Sasha, go. Good bye.
- Slava, Yura, everything's going to be fine. They'll come to an
agreement, you'll see. I'll approach Sedov and Rolin and ask them to leave
you alone. Let's come with me and when it's all over I'll let you out. Come
on guys.
He said "whet it's all over". It could only be over after the
firing squad is done shooting. Because I knew now, that I would not return
fire. They are like us, how could I shoot back? In their eyes, however, we
are traitors.
- Thank you Sasha, but no. Just tell them we're not traitors, OK? Even
if we die here today, we're still not. Good bye.
I opened the hatch and the grunt hopped back.
- It's OK. Get out. You've heard everything?
- Yes.
- When asked, tell the truth, - when they wondered off, I couldn't help
myself and yelled out: - Don't be rude to strangers!
The grunt cramped like from a punch.
- So, Slava, let us go?
All the way back we walked in silence. There was emptiness in my mind
and talking seemed pointless. Absolutely nothing was up to us anymore. We
knew what to do. All that was left was to await the slaughter, like sheep.
All our officers herded together and talked about something. The grunts
were all atop of APCs. Engines were all started and many guns were wheeled
towards the airport building. We came closer to the crowd of officers. It
seemed that every one of them was talking at the same time, but no one was
listening to anybody:
- They're really going to shoot?
- What would you do?
- We fought together before, how could they? Sons of bitches, freaks,
mothers
- Sold mother Russia and now trying to screw us!
- Hey, who'd go to Moscow now?
- My father was right, your worst enemy is in Moscow. He wants you dead
first. Then comes your Air Force and only then the Germans!
- Yura, Slava, what did you decide? - The discussion halted and
everyone was staring at us now.
- I, personally, - I emphasised "personally", - will not
shoot at my own people. Supplies captain said Sedov ordered not to let us
out of the area and inside the building. The password has been changed.
There is about a company-sized element inside the building. Now maybe even
more. I'd say, we're in deep shit.
- So, you say we just stand there and let them shoot us like ducks?
Nice attitude, man!
- If I wanted to leave, I would've left by now. It's only a hundred
meters to the gates. Sedov told them we want to change sides and thus refuse
to assault Minutka.
Everyone went nuts. It would be impossible to describe the monologues
since I could only leave dots and comas. If you, my reader, can replicate
the mood like that, you can yourself make up a speech or two. I can only say
that politicians from the past as well as the ones presently in charge, ours
as well as foreign, were all mentioned, so were their parents and other
close and distant relatives.
Officers of the security regiment were all standing on the airport's
porch, also herded together. So to say: our "likely opponents",
who were, not so long ago, our comrades in arms. Our lives now depended on
them. If they believe Sedov's lies, we're doomed. Whatever they decide to
do, I will not fire back at you guys. I felt sad; if they could only shoot
me dead instantly. Or maybe I'll just shoot myself now? No, not yet, not all
has been done; that I can do any time - it's never too late to put a bullet
in my head.
Meanwhile, behind those closed doors our fates were being decided. Much
depends on the final decision. The fates of Russia and Chechnya are now in
the hands of four men, who are now trying madly to prove each other wrong.
Or maybe our CO is already under arrest with the general. It would be pretty
foolish to just waist a military commander and a general without a
court-martial. We, on the contrary, can easily be all hosed from a pair of
machineguns now. Investigations can be done later. Yep, if you want to go
home at some stage, you shoot first and ask questions later. I keep along
that route myself when meet with the ragheads and now feel quite
uncomfortable acting as target. Occupied by these thoughts I didn't even
notice that I only had left one cigarette. The taste in my mouth was bitter
from tabacco and the stupid situation we were in. I pulled the last smoke
from the packet and a thought stung through my mind: is this my last
cigarette? I started puffing it slowly, striving to enjoy every bit of smoke
I breathed in. Allright, boys, I'm ready for anything now. With every breath
came calm and confidence. I'm no sheep, waiting to be throttled; I am a man,
having consciously made up his mind. I watched a small group of officers who
probably felt just as uneasy. Perhaps, they were trying to make some sort of
decision, to fire on us or not to fire at all: to kill or not to kill.
---------------------------------------------------------------
© Copyright 2001 translation by Alex Dokin (adokin@today.com.au)
---------------------------------------------------------------
Anybody needs help? - Doctor, captain of the medical squad, Zhenya
Ivanov, came up to the grunts. A very bright fellow, smart, intelligent,
toll and skinny, with his head shaved, bushy moustache and glasses he
reminded me of a very popular bard Rosenboum. The grunts flipped away from
him.
- No, nobody needs nothing! - Pliers tried to get away, but the doc,
like any other corpseman, quickly grabbed him and pulled over:
- Stand still, patient, and don't make any sudden movements or I'll
break you something by mistake. OK, your bones are fine and the rest seems
in place. You'll live for now. After your untimely death an autopsy will
reveal the reason why such a young and pretty creature passed away.
- Let's go, shell we? - Asked Zubastik surrounding him officers.
- Yep.
I gave the order and pointed my finger at Pliers, Badalov and the
diggers:
- You go ahead, we'll cover your rear. And make it snappy, will ya.
Don't worry if you see lots of mines, we only need one go at it, move in and
quickly back out. Is our medical team ready?
- Yes chief! - Doc Zhenya answered for all.
We set off one by one, glinting around and covering each other's backs,
ready to scatter off and take security around perimeter at any moment. From
where we left our carriers we could hear nothing besides their running
engines.
- Zhenya, - I caught up with the doc, - Yurka asked for some tablets
against booze.
- There is one very radical thing against booze. You know which one?
- Not to drink?
- Bingo! You knew, didn't you?
- No, just a lucky guess.
- Amazing. Usually people buy it. You couldn't have guessed, could you?
- You see, Zhenya, being just as cynical as you are, I am trying not to
take things the hard way. Because if I did I'd go nuts. The rest is all up
to the Man.
- It's a mystery how you can still maintain your sense of humour.
- It's simple, really. Turks have this wonderful expression "kysmet"
which means "destiny", that's what I use to stay afloat. If your fate were
to live this long and die from a grenade burst at such particular moment,
you would, trust me. Regardless of how cool you are and how many bodyguards
you have, your guts will be dangling off a tree eventually. Same goes for
the rest in life.
- You seriously believe in all this?
- Yes Zhenya, I do. For example. In your medical practise, have you
ever had cases when your patient, according to all signs, must've been
already dead by now, but he's still hanging there, against all odds? You can
reject all laws, but he's still here, according to the law of fate. Have
you? Don't try telling me that his immune system turned out much stronger
than you previously thought. You have to agree that there is something
mysterious in many medical cases.
- I agree, especially there are lots of cases like that here, in
extreme circumstances, so to say.
- That's right. What about when men drop all around but one soldier is
like spellbound, like bullets bounce off the guy.
- Yeah, I've seen something like that. Remember platoon from the first
battalion got lost and walked straight into an ambush?
- I sure remember that one. They were all wasted from close range.
- Three of them did survive though. Two wounded and one without a
scratch on him. Everyone thought the guy was hiding behind the others' backs
and nearly killed him in the rush. But the wounded confirmed that they only
lived because of him. He pulled the burning track from under fire and only
having made sure that all others were dead picked up the casualties and
drove off. Thus, I think you might be right. What about you? Aren't you
afraid of death?
- Of coarse I am, Zhenya. But maybe, I'm just prepared for this, you
know. But more than the death herself I'm scared of becoming crippled.
Promise me Zhenya, that if I ever get onto your operating table without a
limb or some other crippling wound, you would serve me the chance to leave
this world peacefully. I understand you can't do it yourself, but please
give me that chance.
- OK, slow down. First, I think you are heading straight for a nervous
breakdown and all this is just shock talking. I've heard, you know, what
happened at the "North". I also know that you guys were first to refuse to
return fire. It was your buddy the airport chief, who straightened it all
out with our ex-allies and practically forced them come to the same
decision. Therefore, take my advice, have a drink, or come to me and I'll
give you some tablets. By the way, that's what we are here for. Only do not
take too many of them. As for the death, everyone is free to do with his
life whatever he wants. There are no "no choice" situations. There is always
a choice and a way. Maybe, it's not the choice we would prefer, but it is
still a choice. People create problems and people solve them.
- You just don't get it, do you? - I wearily waved my hand, - I'm not a
schoolgirl, hysterical over her boyfriend, and it's no breakdown. It's much
worse for those guys at the frontline. I am just scared of being crippled,
that's all. I have a huge respect for people like that Meresjev guy,
clutching for every little thing in life, even when disabled, despite all
the obstacles and shit they are faced with, but I don't think I've the
character. I'd rather use the "toy" and let my guts fly free than live like
that. OK, let's just drop it, shell we? Or we might bring the bad luck.
- Look Slava, the sappers are signalling, they must've finished over
there. Let's go, shell we. We'll continue our little talk some other time,
accompanied by a bottle of good cognac and cards.
- Fine, let's move. However, you, bastard, still haven't promised me
anything. For now just think about it, would you?
- OK. I'll think about it if you buzz off. I can consider it, but I
don't have to do it. Understood?
- Understood. Let's go.
- Found anything? - I asked the sappers, coming over.
- Not much, comrade Captain. A booby-trapped grenade at the entrance
and that's about it, - they reported merrily, happy at the fact that there
wasn't much to do for them out there.
- OK, go check around the territory. When done, come back and help us
load up.
As the grunts heard about the loading up business, they were gone
before I could finish my speech. Now, try to find an idiot to carry heavy
boxes, even for a good reason like this one.
I looked around. Republican medical warehouses were made up of several
big hangars and two administrative single-storey buildings. I turned to our
surgeons:
- Well, gentlemen, where do you think we should start from? It's a lot
of buildings out there. I suggest we split up in small groups and search the
docks. If you find anything of use, we carry it outside and then load onto
trucks. Any questions, doubts or proposals I shell accept in written form in
no less than three printed copies.
Some sneers came back instead and we all walked off.
- Zhenya, - I asked Ivanov, - do you even know what you're looking for?
- I sure do, - he pulled out a piece of paper with a decent list on it.
I took a glance but couldn't work out any of it since it was all written in
Latin, - Don't bother, you couldn't read any of it.
- What about you, can you understand this? It's not really your
writing.
- I'll work it out. We have to look for tranquillisers, anti-shock
stuff, anti-burns, breath relief, cardio medications, things like that.
We came to the gates of the nearest hangar. They were locked up so I
nodded to the private:
- Go for it! Just watch for the ricochet, allright?
Everyone moved behind the soldier and he smashed both locks with a
short burst. We walked into the semi-dark dock. Long shelves with packages
were stretching for as far as we could see.
- Hey doc, watch for the expiry dates. You might have to feed this
stuff to us.
- It is as darks as in a nigger's ass in there, put some light on it,
will ya.
- It's good to know you've been places, doc, - I noted sarcastically
and everybody cackled.
- Zhenya, is it really that gloomy in there? - A voice came from the
dark and again everyone gaggled.
- As soon as I catch one I'll shove you bastards one by one up his ass
and you'll see it for yourselves, - The doctor came back swiftly.
- What if we catch a female one? Could we do an extensive checkup on
her?
- Mulatto girls are much prettier.
- They say Korean women are nice too.
- Even a girl from Rjasan' would do it for me these days.
- Fellows, women of Europe are all horrible. No one is better than our
Siberians.
Gabbing this way about this and that, we moved along the endless rows
of shelves.
- Help me up, will ya, - Zhenya climbed up a shelf. Up there he opened
up a package and helping himself with a torch, started digging into a bunch
of little boxes. - OK, take them down. Watch it, they ampoules.
- Found something useful?
- Yes, cerebrolisin.
- What kind of disease is that?
- It's not a disease, you moron, it's a medication, helps against
concussion.
- Which means it's only any good for the young soldiers. We, officers,
don't need that because we have no brains no more. What we have is one big
strong bone instead. - I was in the mood for lyrics. After the shakedown at
the "North" and preceding it briefing I just wished I could relax a little.
- Sometime during my third year in college, - I continued, - we had one
funny little incident. Those days we already lived in the student hostel and
rules were not as tough as they used to be during the first years. So it was
in April, we get up in the morning, going to the toilet but sergeants are
kicking us out for the morning jog. It's bloody cold outside though. We
rarely did any jogging as it is, but now, God knows why, they started
kicking us out in the cold. May be an inspection of some sort arrived or
something else happened, I can't remember. Anyway, one of the students,
named Popov, decided to bugger it. He said stuff it, I won't go and that's
that. Our unit leader was not all too happy with such attitude, so he grabs
Popov and starts yelling at the guy. Popov, though, tells the unit leader to
go screw himself. As the one who gave an order, the unit commander, as the
law states, must see that the order is carried out and otherwise enforce it
by any practical means so he punches Popov in the face. Popov, by the way,
was returning from a trip to the bathroom and had a big carafe with water in
his hand. Remember those huge, thick glass carafes in the army back then?
Anyway, Popov turns around and hits his unit leader with that carafe right
on the head. The carafe breaks into thousand little pieces, blood mixed with
water is running down the leader's face. He tumbles like a sack of shit, we
think that's it, the guy's dead. Popov, scared shitless, drops carafe's
neck, which he was still clutching, and splits off via the corridor. All of
us kneel near the leader, assuming the worst, but he pushes everyone off,
jumps up and, like cougar, sprints after Popov. Then he catches up with him
and starts kicking the living shit out of the fellow. We barely managed to
tear him off the guy. We thought the leader was in shock or something and
that's why he couldn't feel the pain. The blood was still streaming out from
his most probably broken skull. Finally we called for a nurse. She gave the
guy a checkup and a x-ray. After all this his skull was absolutely intact,
without a single crack. She couldn't even find any signs of concussion. And
now tell me if you think he had brains. A civilian would've been most likely
dead, a first year student seriously hurt, but a military college graduate
what to do. Suddenly he makes a suggestion: "Let's all convert to
Islam". His friends ask him: "Would it help?" He says:
"Not really, but we could make a soup out of the shreds!" -Sashka
cracked up.
We grinned at his joke and the news.
- Guys, I work here in supplies now, come on over at some stage. Now
I've got to run; somebody beat the shit out one of the grunts in the
hospital.
With our jaws dropped from surprise about Sashka's new appointment, we
picked up our pace to catch up with the rest of our group. We cared not for
the hospital grunt's health. I bet his skull is fine. Nosebleed is nothing,
probably tripped over something in the dark. Could anybody possibly punch
such a wonderful young lad? I don't think so. As for the officers: he
must've dreamt them while splayed out dazed. With his excess weight and high
blood pressure it all could've been much worse. He must go on a strict diet,
dear doctors. Or better yet, give him to us for a week. You won't recognise
the fellow then.
Some officer came out and said that General Rolin is busy at this stage
and will be free to meet with us in about ten to twenty minutes. They are on
the telephone with the Defence Minister. Fine, let them talk. I'm pretty
sure, nothing good will come out of that conversation. Meanwhile our
Com-brig left to radio the brigade's HQ to see how they are hanging.
We saw Sashka returning and called him:
- How is the busted up grunt, Sasha?
- He's telling some bullshit that two officers beat him up. He wet his
pants while unconscious. His description, - he stared at us with suspicion,
- sounds like you two.
- Sashok, you don't seriously think that we could bust up the soldier.
Personally, I only squeeze throats, - I started.
- And I usually shoot nuts off. You know us too well, - supported me
Yurka.
We gazed at him upset, as to demand that all accusations be dropped at
once.
- I sure do. Mad cranks. I've seen a lot of you two. You wouldn't care,
for yourselves or for anybody else. So, did you bust him?
- Sasha, - I again spoke in the smooth voice, half-hugging him, - my
dear man. Please explain to us, as you have put it, "mad cranks",
what for did you run back to the hospital? We never noticed anything
merciful about you. Even when we brought over our casualties, you,
apparently, were so busy, that had totally forgotten to come and greet your
friends.
- Which, by the way, came to your rescue when the ragheads pinned you
down badly at the edge of the airfield, - continued Yurka, - and (somehow I
don't feel comfortable reminding you this) you swore by all saints that you
will never forget about your saviours.
- And now, my dear friend, you are about to sell off your guarding
angels like bad meat at a discount price. - I picked up from Yura. - We, on
the contrary, never even mentioned the fact that your lad was dropping
liqueur at sky-high prices, and, son of a bitch, even tried to threaten us
with a pistol. So, Alexander? I reckon your guy just hit his mug against
something, a?
- What did you do him for?
- He told me bluntly to get stuffed, and didn't apologise. Get that.
- I'll teach the bustard manners.
- Sasha, since we have found common ground, I could now make you an
offer to get us some of that humanitarian aid.
- But you've snapped it already.
- Shameless lies, false allegations and groundless attacks, - Yurka
stated with style, - we never stole anything, we bought it for five bucks.
Or five thousand rubles. It was dark in there, rubles or dollars, all in the
same pocket. Is that true Slava?
- It's the truth. I've paid him off myself. I reckon that your sidekick
is trying to hide some of that illegally made profit from you. By the way,
we only bought one piddling six-pack of itsy-bitsy beer cans, you know, and
a pack of cigarettes, and you, after all this, refuse to gear us up
properly.
- Just imagine, - Yura was unstoppable, - if we were killed in action
(God forbid of course) you would naturally be sad. Because you never gave us
three sticks of good salami, Vodka of the well-known Moscow brand
"Crystal", a few bottles of good cognac, surely some cheese for it
and a few more bits and pieces. And we will visit you in your dreams
reaching our hands out to you and yell, - we started grabbing him like
vampires, - "you, cheap bastard!"
- Yeah, Sasha, - I interrupted, - I might survive without a pair of
beer packs and good cigarettes, but it would be nice of you to throw in some
dry fish for the beer and
- That's enough. Please give me some water, ma'am, cause I'm so hungry
and have no roof for tonight, - Sasha copycatted us. - If you two hadn't
saved my life, you would've been eating free food in the brick by now.
- That's why, during that gunfight I said to Slava: "Hey, look at
that officer dying there for nothing. Let's save him and he, when highly
appointed, will be feeding us for the rest of the war." Slava, confirm
please.
- God, strike me by lightning if it's not true. Hey, that would be
cool, for a week or two, to rest up in the brick. Food three times a day,
clean sheets, steam-room. - I closed my eyes stargazing. - Nirvana! Sasha,
could you send us to that prison of yours and your scumbag will change his
confession in exactly two weeks from now. Let's say he mistook us for
somebody else and they'll let us free. By then the war could too be over.
Think about it Sasha. I'll buy you a drink for that.
- You're naturally delirious. Spooks don't call you "dogs"
for nothing. You are obviously mad and dangerous.
- We are about to go and see our Commander in Chief now, listen to him
trying to talk us into the Minutka assault. So, I'm thinking to suggest that
he takes his own regiment off the airport guard duty and throw it at the
Square. Meanwhile we would pull security here. Then, after you guys take the
Square, we might move on. How about that, Sash? By the way, have you tasted
all the girls around here?
- No, they are all taken. No chance.
- Don't be stingy and give us one. We'll return her, don't you worry!
- You are mad, mad I tell you!
A deputy assistant emerged from the HQ and called us in.
- Sasha, we'll be there for about forty minutes, so, don't forget that
humanitarian aid, we talked about or we'll come to you in your dreams. Tell
your lad that if he's ever rude to us again, he won't get off this easily.
Wait for us and we'll be back, you'll see, -- I cited a line off a
well-known poem. - And dear, don't forget the beer, the rest is a must.
Yura even blew him a kiss.
- We'll meet again, darling!
Sashka, spewed aside, clearly showing his attitude towards our giddy
behaviour. Passing grunts were watching this whole scene with surprise.
We walked into the airport tailing the rest of the group, hurriedly
finishing off our cigarettes and chucking off the butts. At war we usually
smoke, concealing cigarette in the fist. That way sniper wouldn't see the
flash. This habit worked around the clock, night and day. It makes cense
like this. If your habits are different throughout the day, it is easy to
make that one fatal mistake.
All of us walked into the boardroom where we met the Commander in
Chief, General Rolin and our general Zaharin. In the past his surname was of
Armenian origin, but after the fall of the Union it was suggested to him
that he change it. That's how he turned from Avakian to Zaharin (his wife's
surname).
Sandbags plugged all windows in the meeting room. The poor light didn't
reach the corners where all people looked like shadows: Comms officers,
deputies and the rest of the General's aid as well as a few of those who
couldn't miss the opportunity to kiss his ass.
- Please be seated, gentlemen, - Rolin rose and shook Bahel's hand then
simply nodded to the rest of us.
- I have just spoken to the Defence Minister Grachin. At the high
level, - Rolin emphasised the words "high level", - we came to the
decision to assault the Minutka Square structure. I was appointed head of
the operation and you would be carrying out this complex and demanding task.
At the end of the speech his voice turned exultant. I wonder if he and
Karpov had the same teacher in the academy, although, he's not from Moscow.
Hell knows "who is who" in their HQ.
- Our operative group, together with the General Headquarters, has
devised a plan, which was successfully signed off by the Defence Minister.
General Zaharin has just familiarised himself with it. I'm also asking you
to listen carefully here. Correct completion of this task will allow us to
eliminate the rebel forces, led by Dudaev, in the shortest possible time.
They are all now concentrated in the Government Bank Building and in the
so-called Dudaev's Palace, - he pointed his finger at the map laid out on
the table. (Judging from the expression on Zaharin's face, he was not overly
impressed by this plan), - The rest of the buildings, around the assaulted
area, are not important and of not particular interest to us.
It was amazing that a military officer, planning such a blood bath,
treated structures surrounding the assault area with such neglect.
Obviously, the rebels would defend those houses not mentioning the two
bridges, which are for sure fortified and densely mined.
In the Army, we've got three objectives: immediate, next and major. We
always start at the immediate one, then, come to the next and after that
arrive at the main. If people start with the main target, moreover,
mentioning names such as Dudaev's, that is politics. Politics means death to
soldiers. Because these morons never think of people's lives and
consequences, all they're interested in is the result and the timeframe,
regardless of the cost. Jesuitical axiom.
We all stared hard at the map. It turns out that we had to cross both
bridges in almost parade style. What if we didn't make it over? Or only
parts of the assaulting force would cross. The spooks will for sure blow up
the bridges. What's then? Then, those who did make it across, the quicker
ones, ragheads will slaughter like sheep before our own eyes. No one of us
liked this adventure. We are professional soldiers and learnt to risk our
own lives and lives of our men back in college. But to perish foolishly like
this - please, let me out of here. All faces in the room turned grim.
Everyone understood that if we don't stand up for ourselves now, gloomy end
of the Micop Brigade would soon seem like an innocent walk in the park. This
was not even the Central Train Station. This was their President's Palace,
symbol of their national pride. The only solution seemed a nuclear bomb drop
or a long and laborious air assault.
From inside the shadows, emerged the so-called Chief of Staff of the
allied HQ, Colonel Sedov. No one knew much of him, but wars often promote
great men as well as losers to the top of the military ladder. I,
personally, couldn't hold anything against Sedov, but if it was he, who
devised this plan in the first place, he wasn't a loser then, he was a
criminal in ranks. Sedov began to speak. His conduct was well schooled. He
didn't seem threatened by Rolin at all and it probably wasn't his first time
in a company like this. Judging from his parched face and military posture,
I figured he was a line officer. OK, let's see what he's got to say.
- General and gentlemen, - started Sedov, - our opponent concentrated
his chief forces in the Minutka Square area.
"Tell me something new" - I thought to myself.
- That's why to finally break his resistance, demoralise him and flush
out of town, you are to carry out plan, signed off by the Defence Minister
and approved by the Commander in Chief, - now it seemed like Sedov was
admiring himself in the mirror. His was irrupting with pride,
self-importance and the fact that this plan was his idea - now all doubts
about the authorship were gone - he did it.
- You are to quickly capture the bridges over the Sunzha River on the
run and dash through the square, then, capture and destroy enemy infantry
inside the Bank building and Dudaev's residence, so-called Palace, - Sedov
continued to sing.
"Hello my baby, how are you today?" - breezed through my
mind.
- To carry out this assault, several airborne elements, marines and the
Leningrad regiment will complement your brigade. You will also have
artillery and air back up.
The most interesting part was that no one indicated unit numbers of the
supporting force and the amount of back up we would supposedly receive.
Would that be one air-wing or an artillery division? Altogether, the plan
seemed raw and superficial. In case of failure, we would obviously take the
full blame. Nice future!
- The time for the assault was designated two days from now. During
these two days you are to promptly take hotel "Kavkaz", then
reassign it (to whom!?) and move out to the Square, - Sedov, it seemed, had
it all figured out nicely and naturally we should've too, thus right now
scooting out of here and capture the Square. Absolute foolishness!
- General, gentlemen, I'm finished. Any questions please? - Judging
from his tone, he must've thought that only degenerates and morons could ask
questions - what can you possibly expect from siberian mahra?
- What are the estimates of the enemy force at the Minutka complex?
Their armament, mine fields around the square and bridges? - Quietly but
sharply asked our Com-brig, emerging from the shadows.
- The amount of the rebel force does not exceed three to four thousand
men (I like the precision. Who cares? One less thousand or one more
thousand). Their armament consists of standard issue small arms plus GP-25s,
RPG-7 grenade launchers and light company mortars. (How about darting around
a flat square under the shower of mortars?)
- What about the bridges?
- We do not have any precise information whether the bridges are mined
or not. All approaches are heavily defended with nests and blocks without
any possibility for proper reconnaissance at this stage. However, we are
constantly working on it. Also our local supporters constantly inform us.
We all smiled at this statement. A chechen would rarely sell another
chechen, but to bust a non-believer is always a delight.
- You are all laughing vainly, - Sedov turned nervous, - recently in
Moscow a question was raised from the local opposition's initiative, whether
this invasion and senselessly violent actions have caused this republic an
irreparable economic damage and set its people against us. Partisan movement
is growing stronger by the day (really?). Because of that, there is a
notion, that we under no circumstance kill the rebels but only disarm them
and let go home. In their majority they are only frightened peasants. The
spring is coming so is their crop season. Otherwise they'll all die of
famine.
- So the hell with them! - I let it out in the mortal silence. Everyone
instantly burst laughing and I attracted attention of both Rolin and Sedov.
Yurka nudged me, but it was too late by then.
- You must've missed the point, comrade - Sedov looked at my shoulder
flashes and seeing no stars continued, - By the way, why aren't you wearing
your proper insignia?
- Scared of snipers, comrade colonel, - I replied modestly, although
was close to making a huge scene.
- It's all horseshit. Do you think that snipers are interested in your
stars? I don't think so. How would you lead your men if you don't have your
insignia?
I was just about to burst into a long and unflattering speech about
shoulder stars and my opinion about his lousy plan. I am no hero, but at
war, you figure out quickly that there is no deeper shit than this, well,
may be only if you're wounded. Other than that - screw them all. You want to
fire me - be my guests!
But Bahel outpaced me; he must've guessed what is going to follow and
thus quickly spoke:
- Comrade general, we'll work out later why captain Mironov is not
wearing his stars. That was me who allowed my officers to take them off. I
am for now more worried about the forthcoming operation. The timeframes you
have set for us would not allow our brigade, which has been engaged in heavy
fighting for weeks, to rapidly, without proper preparation, redeploy and
carry out your assignment (Bahel emphasised the word "your"). I
recommend you immediately give the order to commence sustained air and
artillery strikes at the square network. That must continue on until the
time comes for us to move into the area. Two hours before the assault,
airborne reconnaissance units must capture the bridges and keep all attempts
to blow them up at bay. By the way, could you tell us exactly which airborne
units would act as our aid? In my opinion, frontal assault of the Minutka
Square is a senseless suicide. I will not follow orders, which would
literally mean running my men past a firing squad.
- Do you understand what you are saying, colonel? - Rolin was furious.
- I will make a phone call to Grachin and have you court-martialed! I will
have you arrested on the spot! You'll be on the first plane to Moscow! You
know how many men would want to take up your spot?
- If it would save my men from slaughter I volunteer to write my letter
of resignation immediately! - Now Bahel was enraged. -You are afraid to
blast the shit out of this f...ing square from the air, but at the same time
you are OK to drown in blood a few thousand soldiers! You better think of
that first before you think of your public image
- Shut you mouth, traitor! - Rolin erupted. - You are out of your god
damned mind, colonel. You're a coward. I'll grind you into powder in five
seconds. And you What are you all looking at? Get the hell out of here!
No way, general, we'll tear up anybody for our commander if he only
tells us to.
- We uphold our CO's opinion that this is a sheer suicide to storm the
square without preparatory air and artillery runs, - somebody from our group
summarised the situation.
- Does everyone think like that? - Rolin squinted and looked around
heavily. - Out! Get out! Guards! Get them all out of here! Disarm them!
Convoy the traitors to the brick!
We only huddled closer in response. Silence set about the room. Mortal
Silence The door opened and two privates and an officer entered, ready to
carry out any order their commander gives them. All of us prepared for the
worst possible outcome. General Zaharin suddenly interrupted the silence -
what a brave man.
- Let's all not make any rush decisions. We will let the officers go
breath some fresh air for now and ourselves stay in here and discuss
possible solutions to fix this situation. Let's keep our cool and not make
any sudden moves. We all understand that a frontal assault would be
dangerous, but together we must find the ultimate solution, - and now
addressing us, - go gentlemen, wait outside, nothing is going to happen; I'm
giving you my word.
- Go, - The Com-brig told us dryly.
We left the room. All of us were quivering. The guards were following
us closely. Someone grabbed their chief and whispered:
- If you bitch, even think about arresting our commander, I'll kill
you. Get it?
- What about my orders? - He asked in scare. His grunts kept away by
the walls.
- You want to live?
- Yes!
- If you are given the order to arrest him, we'll ambush you. During
the ambush you'd give him up quietly. Understood? This way we'll let you and
your grunts live. Did you understand everything I just said?
- Yes!
- We'll now move our vehicles up a little closer. Don't panic. When our
CO comes out with your general, we'll get in the cars and leave. We don't
want your blood, but if you stand in the way, we'll kill you. Understand?
You know who we are?
- I do, you are "the dogs". I understood.
- You don't know anything. We're no dogs we are mahra. We'll tear you
up if our commander is in danger. That's all.Now go. And if you or any of
your grunts make a peep, you'll all die. You like that?
- No I don't.
- That's right. We are here to fight chechens, not each other. They
want us to storm Minutka head-on. Basically they want us dead. But we don't
want to die. That's why Rolin is angry. Go and don't make any trouble.
- OK, I've got it. I've heard you guys are real madmen; but to jump at
Rolin like that, is beyond everyone's expectations. You guys are total nuts!
- Chief of the guards has already recovered from his shock and was walking
with us towards the exit. His face expressed both admiration and distrust at
the same time.
All of us came out steaming hot. Everyone lit up and was inhaling
hungrily, digesting the newly received information. Since he was the
youngest one of all, our recon unit leader was sent to move the armour
closer to the airport. Chief of the guards was told to give the order to
allow that.
- Are you nuts, men? I'll go down for this! This is crazy!
- Do we have to tie you up or what?
- Tie me up, kill me, do what you want. I can't give that order. Full
stop.
- OK, chill out. We won't move the cars beyond your posts. Are you
happy with that?
- Fine by me. But if you move in, I'll have to open up.
- OK, fine.
We all knew perfectly well what disobeying an order could lead to.
Especially in a war-zone, it could result in anything up to the firing squad
without court-martial or even an investigation. The Military Law states
clearly: "An order must be carried out undisputedly, entirely and in
time. After the order has been carried out it can then be challenged."
Who can then challenge that order after our entire brigade will be
slaughtered on this fing Square? Whoever lives through, we'll be permanent
mental home clients.
Yep, this looked like an armed rebellion. What else our open refusal to
carry out an order could be called?
- Slava, what do think about leaving, ah? Like the
battleship"Poteomkin". Yurka asked, inhaling hungrily. - How about
Turkey?
- With our APC, via the Black Sea bottom. I'd say not such a bad idea.
Don't be silly. We haven't done anything illegal as yet. There is a statute
in the Military Law that if you consider that a given order violates The
Constitution Laws, you have the right not to follow it*. To lead your men
out there now means death. Take Chekhoslovakia for instance. Maybe just a
bit bigger then Chechnya but back then preparations took six months. Over
here, it was thrown together ad hoc. Because over there it was considered
overseas, here, on the other hand, inside the boarders, the bustards can put
down a million soldiers on both sides, no one would notice. I chucked off my
cigarette and pulled out another one. Unaccustomed to the weaker tobacco I
just couldn't get enough. - Look, Sashka is coming over with help!
Next to the walking, with important look on his face, Sashka, was
dragging his feet under a weight of two heavy boxes, our old acquaintance -
corporal from the hospital with a patch across his nose and two black eyes.
- We told you to watch your manners, sonny! - Yurka and I were smiling.
- You brought it on yourself.
- Don't be so ill mannered, young men, or you'll die before your
discharge. - I added. - If had punched you a little higher, could've crushed
your skull. You are a lucky lad, my friend, we could've held on until you
make your move with a pistol and cut you open right there without a hint of
anaesthetics.
Sashka came just in time. For once, his appearance distracted us from
our bitter thoughts. I had no desire to become a criminal while I am a
patriot in my heart. Nor did I want to lose all my men at the square and
then shoot myself. I don't think, as an officer, I could live on with such a
heavy weight on my shoulders. What I did want was to get totally shitfaced.
Those two boxes contained liqueur that would, at least for a short while,
let me avoid making this horrible choice. However, we can't do it here and
right now. Or they for sure would accuse us of drinking on the job. All
present knew it well.
- Did you guys just declare a rebellion? - Sashka was alarmed. - You
stirred up some havoc. People are talking about your capture.
- No, we just said that you have expressed desire to lead your company
ahead of us at machineguns on the square, but he turned stubborn. Just
wouldn't let you go full stop. He says that he would never allow his beloved
captain to die like this. But you bastards, says he to us, I don't give a
shit about. Go, perish, the whole brigade of yours with Colonel and General.
I'll throw a medal in every one of your coffins, - I was again filling up
with rage. I knew that neither Sashka nor the grunt had anything to do with
it. I just needed to take it on somebody.
- Or Sasha, you could donate this scumbag to us. We'd write up the
request for transfer and he'd sign it at the gunpoint of his own pistol. In
fact I think he'd sign anything. Nobody would notice the gunshot. As for the
body, we'll stash it somewhere far in the debris. What do you scum think
about that?
I was waiting for anyone of them to reply, at least with a gesture of
some kind. But they were both speechless. My mood was gloomy and ferocious.
All my feelings and thoughts were now motionless, bound into a tightened
spring, ready to pop open with a gigantic charge of energy. But they were
still speechless.
- Sasha, did you load up everything we talked about? - I was gradually
getting the grip on myself. But the spring was tightening stiffer and
stiffer, sharpening all my senses already sharp as it is. - Let's go load it
up.
We wondered off to our APC. I walked ahead, then corporal and Sashka at
the tail of the procession. Thick mud was everywhere and the sun already
started to set. I opened the infantry hatch and the grunt began to load
Sashka's gifts inside the compartment. Sashka finally came over. I booted
the grunt's ass, he disappeared inside the vehicle's belly and I slammed the
hatch behind him. Then I grabbed Sashka by his vest, pressed him against
APC's wall and drew my pistol. He face turned white and eyes widened. He
looked at me then at the gun.
- Now tell me who gave the order to encircle us. Hurry up, you know
we'll either die now or later anyway.Hurry up, bitch, tell me all.
Yurka came up behind me.
- The ring is getting tighter. It'd be pretty difficult now to make our
way into the building. They've dragged in there about a company of men, no
fewer than that.RPG gunners are in there too. The range is damned close. -
Yurka was absolutely deadpan and ready for action.
He said to Sashka:
- Come on, man, tell us who said what and what's the order?
- Sedov came out after you left and ordered not to let out of the
airport area. The passwords are already changed. The building has also been
secured. If you make an attempt to fight your way out or inside the
building, we are to open fire without warning. He said you're planning to
change sides. I was given the order of distracting you, get you drunk or
something. That's all. Let go me. Still, you're madmen. What are you going
to do with the grunt? - Sashka was rubbing his neck.
- Take him. He must've shitted his pants by now. What's the password?
- I don't know. They only told me to get you drunk and get out quick.
What do I tell Sedov?
- The truth. The grunt will confirm. So, they'll start the onslaught
soon since you've been told to promptly get out. OK Sasha, go. Good bye.
- Slava, Yura, everything's going to be fine. They'll come to an
agreement, you'll see. I'll approach Sedov and Rolin and ask them to leave
you alone. Let's come with me and when it's all over I'll let you out. Come
on guys.
He said "whet it's all over". It could only be over after the
firing squad is done shooting. Because I knew now, that I would not return
fire. They are like us, how could I shoot back? In their eyes, however, we
are traitors.
- Thank you Sasha, but no. Just tell them we're not traitors, OK? Even
if we die here today, we're still not. Good bye.
I opened the hatch and the grunt hopped back.
- It's OK. Get out. You've heard everything?
- Yes.
- When asked, tell the truth, - when they wondered off, I couldn't help
myself and yelled out: - Don't be rude to strangers!
The grunt cramped like from a punch.
- So, Slava, let us go?
All the way back we walked in silence. There was emptiness in my mind
and talking seemed pointless. Absolutely nothing was up to us anymore. We
knew what to do. All that was left was to await the slaughter, like sheep.
All our officers herded together and talked about something. The grunts
were all atop of APCs. Engines were all started and many guns were wheeled
towards the airport building. We came closer to the crowd of officers. It
seemed that every one of them was talking at the same time, but no one was
listening to anybody:
- They're really going to shoot?
- What would you do?
- We fought together before, how could they? Sons of bitches, freaks,
mothers
- Sold mother Russia and now trying to screw us!
- Hey, who'd go to Moscow now?
- My father was right, your worst enemy is in Moscow. He wants you dead
first. Then comes your Air Force and only then the Germans!
- Yura, Slava, what did you decide? - The discussion halted and
everyone was staring at us now.
- I, personally, - I emphasised "personally", - will not
shoot at my own people. Supplies captain said Sedov ordered not to let us
out of the area and inside the building. The password has been changed.
There is about a company-sized element inside the building. Now maybe even
more. I'd say, we're in deep shit.
- So, you say we just stand there and let them shoot us like ducks?
Nice attitude, man!
- If I wanted to leave, I would've left by now. It's only a hundred
meters to the gates. Sedov told them we want to change sides and thus refuse
to assault Minutka.
Everyone went nuts. It would be impossible to describe the monologues
since I could only leave dots and comas. If you, my reader, can replicate
the mood like that, you can yourself make up a speech or two. I can only say
that politicians from the past as well as the ones presently in charge, ours
as well as foreign, were all mentioned, so were their parents and other
close and distant relatives.
Officers of the security regiment were all standing on the airport's
porch, also herded together. So to say: our "likely opponents",
who were, not so long ago, our comrades in arms. Our lives now depended on
them. If they believe Sedov's lies, we're doomed. Whatever they decide to
do, I will not fire back at you guys. I felt sad; if they could only shoot
me dead instantly. Or maybe I'll just shoot myself now? No, not yet, not all
has been done; that I can do any time - it's never too late to put a bullet
in my head.
Meanwhile, behind those closed doors our fates were being decided. Much
depends on the final decision. The fates of Russia and Chechnya are now in
the hands of four men, who are now trying madly to prove each other wrong.
Or maybe our CO is already under arrest with the general. It would be pretty
foolish to just waist a military commander and a general without a
court-martial. We, on the contrary, can easily be all hosed from a pair of
machineguns now. Investigations can be done later. Yep, if you want to go
home at some stage, you shoot first and ask questions later. I keep along
that route myself when meet with the ragheads and now feel quite
uncomfortable acting as target. Occupied by these thoughts I didn't even
notice that I only had left one cigarette. The taste in my mouth was bitter
from tabacco and the stupid situation we were in. I pulled the last smoke
from the packet and a thought stung through my mind: is this my last
cigarette? I started puffing it slowly, striving to enjoy every bit of smoke
I breathed in. Allright, boys, I'm ready for anything now. With every breath
came calm and confidence. I'm no sheep, waiting to be throttled; I am a man,
having consciously made up his mind. I watched a small group of officers who
probably felt just as uneasy. Perhaps, they were trying to make some sort of
decision, to fire on us or not to fire at all: to kill or not to kill.
---------------------------------------------------------------
© Copyright 2001 translation by Alex Dokin (adokin@today.com.au)
---------------------------------------------------------------
Anybody needs help? - Doctor, captain of the medical squad, Zhenya
Ivanov, came up to the grunts. A very bright fellow, smart, intelligent,
toll and skinny, with his head shaved, bushy moustache and glasses he
reminded me of a very popular bard Rosenboum. The grunts flipped away from
him.
- No, nobody needs nothing! - Pliers tried to get away, but the doc,
like any other corpseman, quickly grabbed him and pulled over:
- Stand still, patient, and don't make any sudden movements or I'll
break you something by mistake. OK, your bones are fine and the rest seems
in place. You'll live for now. After your untimely death an autopsy will
reveal the reason why such a young and pretty creature passed away.
- Let's go, shell we? - Asked Zubastik surrounding him officers.
- Yep.
I gave the order and pointed my finger at Pliers, Badalov and the
diggers:
- You go ahead, we'll cover your rear. And make it snappy, will ya.
Don't worry if you see lots of mines, we only need one go at it, move in and
quickly back out. Is our medical team ready?
- Yes chief! - Doc Zhenya answered for all.
We set off one by one, glinting around and covering each other's backs,
ready to scatter off and take security around perimeter at any moment. From
where we left our carriers we could hear nothing besides their running
engines.
- Zhenya, - I caught up with the doc, - Yurka asked for some tablets
against booze.
- There is one very radical thing against booze. You know which one?
- Not to drink?
- Bingo! You knew, didn't you?
- No, just a lucky guess.
- Amazing. Usually people buy it. You couldn't have guessed, could you?
- You see, Zhenya, being just as cynical as you are, I am trying not to
take things the hard way. Because if I did I'd go nuts. The rest is all up
to the Man.
- It's a mystery how you can still maintain your sense of humour.
- It's simple, really. Turks have this wonderful expression "kysmet"
which means "destiny", that's what I use to stay afloat. If your fate were
to live this long and die from a grenade burst at such particular moment,
you would, trust me. Regardless of how cool you are and how many bodyguards
you have, your guts will be dangling off a tree eventually. Same goes for
the rest in life.
- You seriously believe in all this?
- Yes Zhenya, I do. For example. In your medical practise, have you
ever had cases when your patient, according to all signs, must've been
already dead by now, but he's still hanging there, against all odds? You can
reject all laws, but he's still here, according to the law of fate. Have
you? Don't try telling me that his immune system turned out much stronger
than you previously thought. You have to agree that there is something
mysterious in many medical cases.
- I agree, especially there are lots of cases like that here, in
extreme circumstances, so to say.
- That's right. What about when men drop all around but one soldier is
like spellbound, like bullets bounce off the guy.
- Yeah, I've seen something like that. Remember platoon from the first
battalion got lost and walked straight into an ambush?
- I sure remember that one. They were all wasted from close range.
- Three of them did survive though. Two wounded and one without a
scratch on him. Everyone thought the guy was hiding behind the others' backs
and nearly killed him in the rush. But the wounded confirmed that they only
lived because of him. He pulled the burning track from under fire and only
having made sure that all others were dead picked up the casualties and
drove off. Thus, I think you might be right. What about you? Aren't you
afraid of death?
- Of coarse I am, Zhenya. But maybe, I'm just prepared for this, you
know. But more than the death herself I'm scared of becoming crippled.
Promise me Zhenya, that if I ever get onto your operating table without a
limb or some other crippling wound, you would serve me the chance to leave
this world peacefully. I understand you can't do it yourself, but please
give me that chance.
- OK, slow down. First, I think you are heading straight for a nervous
breakdown and all this is just shock talking. I've heard, you know, what
happened at the "North". I also know that you guys were first to refuse to
return fire. It was your buddy the airport chief, who straightened it all
out with our ex-allies and practically forced them come to the same
decision. Therefore, take my advice, have a drink, or come to me and I'll
give you some tablets. By the way, that's what we are here for. Only do not
take too many of them. As for the death, everyone is free to do with his
life whatever he wants. There are no "no choice" situations. There is always
a choice and a way. Maybe, it's not the choice we would prefer, but it is
still a choice. People create problems and people solve them.
- You just don't get it, do you? - I wearily waved my hand, - I'm not a
schoolgirl, hysterical over her boyfriend, and it's no breakdown. It's much
worse for those guys at the frontline. I am just scared of being crippled,
that's all. I have a huge respect for people like that Meresjev guy,
clutching for every little thing in life, even when disabled, despite all
the obstacles and shit they are faced with, but I don't think I've the
character. I'd rather use the "toy" and let my guts fly free than live like
that. OK, let's just drop it, shell we? Or we might bring the bad luck.
- Look Slava, the sappers are signalling, they must've finished over
there. Let's go, shell we. We'll continue our little talk some other time,
accompanied by a bottle of good cognac and cards.
- Fine, let's move. However, you, bastard, still haven't promised me
anything. For now just think about it, would you?
- OK. I'll think about it if you buzz off. I can consider it, but I
don't have to do it. Understood?
- Understood. Let's go.
- Found anything? - I asked the sappers, coming over.
- Not much, comrade Captain. A booby-trapped grenade at the entrance
and that's about it, - they reported merrily, happy at the fact that there
wasn't much to do for them out there.
- OK, go check around the territory. When done, come back and help us
load up.
As the grunts heard about the loading up business, they were gone
before I could finish my speech. Now, try to find an idiot to carry heavy
boxes, even for a good reason like this one.
I looked around. Republican medical warehouses were made up of several
big hangars and two administrative single-storey buildings. I turned to our
surgeons:
- Well, gentlemen, where do you think we should start from? It's a lot
of buildings out there. I suggest we split up in small groups and search the
docks. If you find anything of use, we carry it outside and then load onto
trucks. Any questions, doubts or proposals I shell accept in written form in
no less than three printed copies.
Some sneers came back instead and we all walked off.
- Zhenya, - I asked Ivanov, - do you even know what you're looking for?
- I sure do, - he pulled out a piece of paper with a decent list on it.
I took a glance but couldn't work out any of it since it was all written in
Latin, - Don't bother, you couldn't read any of it.
- What about you, can you understand this? It's not really your
writing.
- I'll work it out. We have to look for tranquillisers, anti-shock
stuff, anti-burns, breath relief, cardio medications, things like that.
We came to the gates of the nearest hangar. They were locked up so I
nodded to the private:
- Go for it! Just watch for the ricochet, allright?
Everyone moved behind the soldier and he smashed both locks with a
short burst. We walked into the semi-dark dock. Long shelves with packages
were stretching for as far as we could see.
- Hey doc, watch for the expiry dates. You might have to feed this
stuff to us.
- It is as darks as in a nigger's ass in there, put some light on it,
will ya.
- It's good to know you've been places, doc, - I noted sarcastically
and everybody cackled.
- Zhenya, is it really that gloomy in there? - A voice came from the
dark and again everyone gaggled.
- As soon as I catch one I'll shove you bastards one by one up his ass
and you'll see it for yourselves, - The doctor came back swiftly.
- What if we catch a female one? Could we do an extensive checkup on
her?
- Mulatto girls are much prettier.
- They say Korean women are nice too.
- Even a girl from Rjasan' would do it for me these days.
- Fellows, women of Europe are all horrible. No one is better than our
Siberians.
Gabbing this way about this and that, we moved along the endless rows
of shelves.
- Help me up, will ya, - Zhenya climbed up a shelf. Up there he opened
up a package and helping himself with a torch, started digging into a bunch
of little boxes. - OK, take them down. Watch it, they ampoules.
- Found something useful?
- Yes, cerebrolisin.
- What kind of disease is that?
- It's not a disease, you moron, it's a medication, helps against
concussion.
- Which means it's only any good for the young soldiers. We, officers,
don't need that because we have no brains no more. What we have is one big
strong bone instead. - I was in the mood for lyrics. After the shakedown at
the "North" and preceding it briefing I just wished I could relax a little.
- Sometime during my third year in college, - I continued, - we had one
funny little incident. Those days we already lived in the student hostel and
rules were not as tough as they used to be during the first years. So it was
in April, we get up in the morning, going to the toilet but sergeants are
kicking us out for the morning jog. It's bloody cold outside though. We
rarely did any jogging as it is, but now, God knows why, they started
kicking us out in the cold. May be an inspection of some sort arrived or
something else happened, I can't remember. Anyway, one of the students,
named Popov, decided to bugger it. He said stuff it, I won't go and that's
that. Our unit leader was not all too happy with such attitude, so he grabs
Popov and starts yelling at the guy. Popov, though, tells the unit leader to
go screw himself. As the one who gave an order, the unit commander, as the
law states, must see that the order is carried out and otherwise enforce it
by any practical means so he punches Popov in the face. Popov, by the way,
was returning from a trip to the bathroom and had a big carafe with water in
his hand. Remember those huge, thick glass carafes in the army back then?
Anyway, Popov turns around and hits his unit leader with that carafe right
on the head. The carafe breaks into thousand little pieces, blood mixed with
water is running down the leader's face. He tumbles like a sack of shit, we
think that's it, the guy's dead. Popov, scared shitless, drops carafe's
neck, which he was still clutching, and splits off via the corridor. All of
us kneel near the leader, assuming the worst, but he pushes everyone off,
jumps up and, like cougar, sprints after Popov. Then he catches up with him
and starts kicking the living shit out of the fellow. We barely managed to
tear him off the guy. We thought the leader was in shock or something and
that's why he couldn't feel the pain. The blood was still streaming out from
his most probably broken skull. Finally we called for a nurse. She gave the
guy a checkup and a x-ray. After all this his skull was absolutely intact,
without a single crack. She couldn't even find any signs of concussion. And
now tell me if you think he had brains. A civilian would've been most likely
dead, a first year student seriously hurt, but a military college graduate