The Bloody Veil

When I woke up, the bright light hurt my eyes, It had been five days. The soft touch of someone's fingers on my forehead opened my eyes. This was a nurse.

– They fought for your life, but there was no way to save your legs, – she said in a trembling voice. I had no legs.

Recently, I saw my guys on a TV show, and it burned like fire. I found out that the foreman was also left without both legs. The decision to enter this country was a cruel mistake. But what to do? Fate so ordered that we guys of the sixties had to pay for this mistake.

"WE WERE NAMESAKES"

Abduvahid Ergashev, born in 1963. From Tashkent, Uzbekistan.

We cleared the roads of mines. One company was allocated from each battalion of our regiment for this purpose, and a new battalion was formed. We also had to clear the territories of the exploded warehouses of mines, shells, and other ammunition.

When we came to the village where the warehouses exploded, there were no people there. Only cows and chickens, left without owners, wandered through the deserted streets. Houses are destroyed, and trees are charred. Even the ground was scorched underfoot, like ashes.

We set up tents. The next day, we went to our destination. We got off the cars. There was nowhere for the feet to step – shells, grenades, damaged mines, and other dangerous weapons were scattered everywhere.

We were taught how to collect all this. We split into groups and started working thirty meters apart from each other.

At the sight of this terrible place, none of us hoped to survive. When I was collecting shells, I saw my relatives one by one in my mind's eye. Two days later, the first mine exploded, and the guy from the next company was left without legs. Like that, it went on. Explosions were heard here and there, soldiers were injured, died. On my return from this exhausting, hellish work, my nerves were already at their limit. I had nightmares, the guys were delirious, screaming, moaning.

         In the morning, we went to work again, and the more dangerous it was, the more thoughts rushed to my relatives. At the very sight of this infernal black wasteland, the heart shrinks, skips a beat. You remember that you haven't seen anything in this world yet, you haven't even kissed a girl yet, and you feel so sorry for yourself. But you can't relax.

On October 18, I had a dream. I can't really tell now, but I remember that it was very scary. I woke up to the voice of a daycare worker shouting, "Rise!" After breakfast we went to work. As if I felt something was wrong, I didn't want to go. But, as you know, no one considered your wishes there. We were going. My comrade – Muhammad from Krasnogorsk, was walking next to me. The ground was covered with a thin layer of snow overnight, and the fatal wasteland turned white. Again, at a distance of thirty meters from each other, we began to collect ammunition. I picked up two pistols, and when I picked up the detonator of the mine, there was an explosion. Everything went dark. I looked at my hands. They were covered in blood. Staggering, I took a few steps and dropped. There was a new explosion. My family flashed before my eyes, everyone was looking at me with tears. Then everything was plunged into darkness.

Someone picked me up, put me in the car. I was getting worse and worse. We drove for a long time. On the way, the car stopped. Someone sitting next to me started swearing: "Do the Soviets have normal cars at all? Wheels fly off anywhere! Go fix it, rascal!" They stood for a long time. I'm freezing. The pain intensified. I started swearing, cursing everyone and everything, not sparing words, and cursing those who dragged me here. I saw wounded soldiers in the movies. It's all a lie. There are no such wounded people. The wounded man curses everything in the world.

In one movie, I remember that the Germans forced the prisoners to drag a jagged iron block through a minefield. We were treated the same way. After all, who can distinguish a damaged mine, grenade, or detonator from an undamaged one? The bosses initially knew that someone had to die…

Then we were transferred to another car. Now the wind was hitting us in the face. While we were getting to the hospital, I was remembering my school years: "Now I can't see their faces, I'm only eighteen, and what have I managed in life? What's the point of living now?" I asked myself. And so I would like to enjoy life, see relatives, friends, classmates, talk to them…

An operation was performed – fingers were cut off. I was conscious. They probably operated without anesthesia, I felt my fingers being cut with a crunch. I was losing a lot of blood, and the doctors were afraid that I would not survive anesthesia.

The analgesic injection didn't really work, and when they pressed something hard on my bone, I couldn't stand it and started swearing at the top of my voice in Uzbek. "My son, my son, calm down", – someone said. It just spurred me on. Why calm down now. Silence and complacency have already done their job, brought them to the last line!

Probably, blindness from birth is not as terrible for a person as for a sighted person who went blind in an instant. I want to tear to pieces all those who invented, created these mines, grenades, shells, everything—everything that cripples, kills. May they be cursed forever…

I do not remember much of it. I remember drinking compote through a hose, my mouth probably wouldn't open. My heart ached when I thought about my parents. Mom would have the hardest time of all… After getting a little stronger, I got out of bed and groped in the direction from which the cold air was blowing. I was told that our ward is on the third floor.

"Don't mention it with a vengeance", – I whispered to my family. I mentally hugged and kissed my mother. I groped for the window and put my foot on something. I found out that it was a bedside table. It fell. Someone grabbed my hands tightly:

– What are you doing, everything is still  ahead, – he said, trying to calm me down.

– What is ahead? –  I shouted desperately. Almost crying, he said, pleading in his voice: "Please, let me put you in your place".

       From the tension, blood rushed to my head, and everything around me began to spin. I have lost consciousness. For the next two weeks, I was only put to sleep with injections.

Once, I asked the nurse who gave me an injection:

– Do I have eyes?

– Yes, yes, there is one, but we don't know about the second one yet, – she replied.

It says that it's not customary for doctors to say that. But she, at least to calm me down, did not even say that everything would be fine. I felt very hurt. Out of frustration, I started kicking.  Together, they gave me an injection. I fell asleep…

I was having a dream. And every time I try to squeeze something tightly with my wounded hand. Then I wake up and remember that I have no fingers. I want to take a look and try to open my eyelids. I don't know if my eyes are open or not. I cry out. People come running to the cry. But no one can help me.

Two months have passed. It seemed as if it was morning, the doctor dropped medicine in my eyes. Suddenly, the total darkness turned into a white fog. Then the outlines of someone's face appeared. Afraid to frighten this vision, I was silent. Then, trying to figure out whether it was in a dream or in reality, I stretched out my surviving hand, touched it. A hand slid over the warm cheek.

After a while, my attending physician flew into the room, hugged me:

"Things will come right now, things will come right" – he kept repeating.

It was my second birthday. I wanted to live again.

My company commander came and said that he had received a letter from my father. "Why don't you make sure that your soldiers send letters home, – my father wrote. – If our son forgot about the house, remind him properly, punish him". I asked him not to write letters to my father.

Gradually, I began to see better, but with one eye. The face, because of gunpowder and shrapnel, has changed beyond recognition.

I will tell you that in these two months, it seemed I had lived for twenty years. I felt much older than my age.

Shortly, after I was admitted to the hospital, my friend Muhammad was also brought there. Neither of us knew that we were lying next to each other. But we were blown up at the same time. We were namesakes. Doctors cut off one of his hands, and he could not see well because of a fragment that got into his eye. Then Muhammad became my closest friend…

At the end of February, I was discharged from the hospital and bought a train ticket. A patrol detained me at the train station. They checked the documents, fooling their heads. It made me laugh. After all, what a state I was in, and they gave me the "charter".

On a crowded train, I got into conversation with a man returning from prison. When he found out what had happened to me, he chose a good place for me in the common car and took care of me all the way to Tashkent. He was a thousand times better than those patrolling the military from the train station… And now I remember him with warmth.

"CHEWED HIS EARS AND SPAT OUT…"

Usli Sagindinov, born in 1969. From Gulistan, Uzbekistan.

He served near Kandahar.

– For two months, we studied at Termez. We were trained to handle military equipment and weapons. Every day the commanders uttered high words about the honor of bearing the name "defender of the motherland." We became sappers. Our first assignment in Kandahar was mining the road the Afghans used to walk on. I could not understand why they are called dushmans, basmachs. After all, they are fighting on their own land. And we are… You won't understand anything. However, why should I bother with politics, there are big people for this.

The senior lieutenant, in addition to four of his experienced guys, took us, two young men who had just started service. It was after midnight when we reached the place. We dug holes, and "the old men" mined.

When we finished, the commander ordered my friend and me to carry the equipment to the car. We walked about 30–40 meters and heard an explosion behind us, rushed to help. But when they ran up, they saw that there was no one to help, only scattered arms, heads, and legs remained. We collected everything, as it was necessary to send them to their homeland.

After this "baptism of fire" we walked around as if distraught, and could not come to ourselves.

Bloody hair, heads, legs with hanging threads of meat, and fingers gathered into a fist for a long time still dreamed and did not give me peace. The commander's head was split in two, and the eye on one side was clear. He haunted me at night. Seemed alive…

Their summers are hot. Therefore, we began the pursuit of the Afghan detachment at dawn. They retreated to the mountains. The first group turned to the village at the foot of the mountain. In pursuit of the detachment, we climbed quite high into the mountains. Finally, the commander gave the order to turn back. But it was too late, it was impossible to do, because we were surrounded. I had to climb higher into the mountains. For five days we held the defense. The helicopter that was sent to our rescue was shot down. There was very little food and ammunition, four out of twenty fighters were killed, and five were seriously wounded. All attempts to save them were in vain. On the sixth day, the Afghans captured five of us. They blindfolded us and drove us somewhere.

We were lying in a corner of a large courtyard. About twenty Afghans, high on hash, got high. Occasionally, we heard the words "bacho, bacho". The healthiest one stood out from their circle, came up to us, and, playing with a knife in his hand, smiling, bent down to a soldier a little away from me. "Bacho, kofur, bacho, kofur," he repeated, and our eyes were riveted on the knife in his hand. The lower he bent, the wider the soldier's blue eyes opened. His head seemed to be pressed into the ground. Suddenly, the big man grabbed his ear with one hand, and, like a petal, cut it off with a knife. A faint groan escaped the soldier's lips, but he did not utter another sound. The big man tossed the ear into the air, caught it and put it in his mouth. I closed my eyes, but somehow I heard this guy chewing with a crunch. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't take my eyes off this terrible sight. There's bloody foam on his lips. It looks like a wolf with a bloody mouth. Red saliva flowed down his chin, and he wrinkled up, as if he had eaten a sour apple and spat it out. Pieces of chewed ear were scattered on the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and, as if enjoying human blood, stretched sweetly. Then he turned back to the soldier and, like a butcher throwing a bone to a dog, cut off both hands and threw them aside. The severed arms twitched on the ground like fish washed ashore. A stream of scarlet blood sprayed the face of the soldier lying next to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, causing the folds of his eyelids to fill with blood. Blood was still gushing from the executioner's first victim, and he approached the second. For some reason, the soldier lay still. He didn't even move. And the severed ear twitched again in the hands of this vampire. Then he started kicking the soldier. Not a sound in response. Realizing that the soldier was dead, he threw his ear in my direction. Tumbling in the air, the ear hit my lips. It was cold, but I was afraid to even take a deep breath. My eyes followed his every move intently, like a cat watching a mouse.

He slowly came up and stood over me, legs wide apart. He looked like a mythological, predatory diva. It is impossible to imagine a human being so angry. But the facial features are correct, the eyes are not red. But they shone coldly. You feel powerless in front of such a creature.

He said something in Afghan. It seems that my nationality is being questioned. But then a miracle happened… Our people broke in, untied me and two other prisoners. The dushmans were captured. We picked up the remains of two comrades and returned to the unit.

I don't want to stir up a lot of things. From these memories, blood rushes to the brain. You're numb. The feeling of fear, anxiety does not leave my heart. There, on that land, what happiness it was to meet, and talk with your fellow countrymen. Now, noticing that this feeling of love and tenderness is cooling, I am surprised, and fear creeps into my soul. I think we're starting to get bored with each other. But don't write down these words of mine. It's just my feelings.

I meet a lot of people who are rude in their treatment. And every time, it's like a new wound.

One day, we went on a mission to Pansher.  We are exhausted on the road. The hot wind, dust, and tension exhausted us. Here we came to a mountain stream with clear water. There are eight of us. It was hard to resist the temptation to swim in the cool water. We looked around carefully. Having made sure of their safety, my comrades bathed. But I was uneasy in my soul. Without undressing, I began to wipe my machine gun. It seemed to me that someone was watching us, and I constantly looked around. And for good reason. A shot rang out. I fired a burst from the machine in that direction. In response, they fired again. Two of my friends were killed, the rest managed to grab their weapons and take cover. We saw that several Afghans were approaching us and began to retreat along the river to the ruins of the old village. In order not to get too far from the road, we decided to take up defense in an abandoned yard near the shore. The walls here were high. Through a hole made in the wall for water, we penetrated inside. But then something unexpected happened. The foreman, a big man, is stuck. Only I was left outside. And the enemies were approaching. Not knowing what to do, I froze for a moment. Then I realized it and mercilessly kicked the foreman from behind. It helped. Startled by the pain, he slipped through the hole. Only the stone fell off the wall behind him. I quickly followed him, and we filled the hole with stones.

I apologized to the commander, and in return I received a promise that I would be presented with a reward. Yes, such stories happened during the war.

"THAT IS HOW MY FINGERS LOOK…"

Muhammad Ergashev, born in 1963. From Tashkent region, Uzbekistan.

On October 18, we, the several soldiers, were given the task of defusing the shells. We were sent to one of the warehouses that exploded from a lightning strike. The nearby villages are completely destroyed. A huge area around it was all covered in potholes. The trees had burned down, and only a few blackened trunks stuck out of the ground. Fortunately, not all the bullets exploded. Otherwise, the nearby town would also be severely damaged.

A month before this task, I began to saw dreams in which I saw myself exploding on a mine. I jumped out of bed in horror. The visions were repeated again and again. The heart is restless, and in the morning, breakfast does not lie in the throat. Every day I feel the approaching fateful event more and more clearly.

On that day, October 18, I saw that dream again. I was awake. The bed is wet from sweat, and the heart is ready to jump out of the chest. The newspaper announced a rise. Everyone was dressed, and I felt like I was being squeezed. After breakfast, I asked the officer:

– Allow me to stay today. Something is wrong with the heart.

But he did not let me stay:

It was the eleventh hour. Trains were supposed to go to the warehouses, so I cleaned up the entrance routes from the shells. My gaze fell on a red, cigarette-sized detonator from an anti-tank grenade. He had to be removed. I bowed and took him in my hands. Someone was screaming, "Drop it!" But I didn’t have time. There was an explosion…

Every time we enter this territory, we pray to God to save our lives. When we left her, we whispered, "Thank God, it’s over." This time, it did not work. It hurts in the eyes. The ears bet. I wandered and crossed the rail. I barely opened my eyes and looked at my hands. I saw naked white bones and hanging pieces of meat. The blood had not yet come out, and there was no pain I felt. My eyes stopped seeing. "It’s over", I thought. I began to grope my way to the ditch that ran along the road. Feeling that I was on the edge of the abyss, I jumped. I didn’t feel any pain, as if I had fallen into a soft posture. Comrades came to me. They crossed my hands. "Give me a grenade", – I begged them, "I’ll blow myself up".

We had one major, very evil, very rude. I hated him and wanted to call my dog by his name when I came home. There I heard his voice. I realized he was crying.

– You’ll still live, you’ll live well, son, – he said. I immediately forgot all his cruelty and forgave him.

I was picked up and taken out of the warehouse. They were placed on the armor of the "ambulances". Someone said, "Both exploded on the detonator". I did not lose consciousness for a moment.

On the way, the car failed, we were transferred to the boat. It was cold. I seemed to have lost a lot of blood because my whole body was chilling. It was driving a long time. The pain became unbearable, and it seemed as if the whole world was running out of pain. In such cases, it is probably better to lose consciousness or even die. Together you get rid of everything.

Life, youth, dreams – all this is important for a healthy person and for people like me, they lose their meaning. God let no one be in such a situation.

X-rays were taken at the hospital. I slept naked for two hours in a cold room. Let those days be cursed! I ask the nurse to give me an analgesic injection, and she answers, "You’re not the only one dying". It is hard when you are powerless and helpless. The only tool is language. "You are a man or an animal?" – Only you scream. – Rascals, you left me alone and went out".

With every movement of the scissors on the operating table, I feel unbearable pain. "Be careful" – I begged.

They did not answer. But that torture is over. When I was preparing for the operation, a woman’s voice said:

– The left eye should be removed.

The man’s voice replied:

– No, we will operate, maybe he will see.

My eyes were kept by colonel Grishin. I will be grateful to this person all my life. After the operation, I was taken to the room and given sleeping pills. When I woke up, I heard the nurse’s voice:

– Look at them, all the bandages in the blood, they will not cut off the human appearance. Then the man who kept my eyes read them:

– Your mother, can you say that? Out from here!

A week later I removed the bandage from my eyes and washed the cold blood off the face. One of the nurses said, "A whole centimeter of blood has frozen".

The same doctor operated my second eye in late November. During the operation, he talked to me without stopping, asking about it, told anecdotes. He was an extraordinary doctor.

But my troubles did not end there either. Three days later, a fragment was found in my throat, blood went, a pillow was poured out. My head started turning, I was sick. It seemed like I was falling from the bed. I called the nurse. She does not go. I shouted and woke up others. But they just bothered me for preventing them from sleeping. I remained silent for a few hours. I thought I was dying. I cried again. Then the nurse came, attached a towel to the wound and left again. I began to lose consciousness. It seemed like my head was immersed in a pond filled with blood, blood flowed into my ears, my eyes. From severe pain I got back to consciousness. Someone had a wound on my throat. I felt like I was very hungry. "Give me some bread", I asked. The doctor who sewed my throat said, "Put him a dropper". When I was put on the dropper, I fell asleep. I did not see the face of Dr. Grishin. In my imagination, he was like my father.

Soon my father came. "Is Ergashev here?" I heard his voice. I had no strength to get up. The sound of my steps drew me like a magnet. With the arrival of my father, the thirst for life was awakened in me, the belief that I could still get better. In the darkness, I saw tears flowing on my father’s cheeks. Here they flow through the eyebrows. Here they go to the lips…

My father touched my hands, my legs.

– Everything is in my place, – I cheated him. He believed…

"MY CONTEMPORARIES SEEM TO ME LIKE CHILDREN…"

Kaeders Normunus, born in 1968. From Latvia. Injured in Bagdad.

As a child, I dreamed of becoming a driver. After graduating from school, before being called to the army, I learned to be a driver and managed to work a year. I don’t speak Russian very well. But you seem to understand me. In the army I got a machine KamAZ-53212. I loved her very much. We transported gasoline to Kabul. The road was asphalted. We were very afraid of the place where there were three hills along it, because there were many accidents. Two days before my injury, three Afghan cars burned there. When I saw them, I stunned. Two days later, the same story happened to me.

We returned from Kabul. There were 20 cars in the column. Kilometers three drove toward Djabal, as I was thrown, as if from a blow of electricity. My feet refused.

There nobody knew that I was married, because there was no corresponding mark on the military ticket. My thoughts turned to my wife Antra, to my mother, "My dear ones, I will not see you now", I repeated over and over again. My legs were frozen on the gas pedals. I can’t remember when I was taken to Kabul and taken on a plane. I forgot in the plane, I woke up in Dushanbe. I learned that Yuriy Kovarchik and Shikhobuddinov were wounded from our column. The man who accompanied us asked why I would repeat, "My dear ones, I can’t see you anymore". In this state, a person probably repeats the most important thing for himself. Two days have passed and I still haven’t felt both my legs. It is hard for a living person to be in such a situation overnight.

You may not believe it, but I saw death in my dreams. It was interesting. My father and I were riding the village on a motorbike. We were shot. I was wounded and fell. Suddenly I see a guy walking in the field, right in the spot, who looks like me. I am surprised and asked him:

– How did you become me? Who are you?

And he answers:

– I am death. I came to take your soul. Then I will turn into your ghost and wander through the village.