The Bloody Veil

Thirty second I was lying in such a state. In front of my eyes, like a film, memories of past days – family, friends pass through the wreath. I am a participant in this film. It is like watching TV. Whom I helped and did well, whom I hurt. Then, as if awakened from my sleep, I shudder. The paintings of memories disappeared and their place was taken by bullets, whispering around. I wanted to get right. My hands did not obey me. Then I took the machine with my left hand and crossed to the left edge of the stone. I saw an enemy constantly shooting at me. He was hiding behind a bag. "You don’t know how to shoot", a cruel thought came into my mind. I took a bag and shot. He was one of those two who ate in the shadow of a tree. The partner was dead. My shot calmed me. I told the commander that two were killed and two were resisting. One of the remaining hid in the displacement between the stones and, not ceasing, fired. We were at thirty meters from him. The commander ordered to cover him with a grenade. Seven grenades, thrown in his direction, did not reach, exploded in the air. Volodya Kudryavtsev managed to cope with the last enemy. With victory we went down.

In the dust of battle you do not realize the death of a man. The essence of events comes to you later. When we walked to the canal, we saw that the water in it had turned red. The smell of blood hit my nose. I was ripped. The one I shot was very young, almost a boy.

His black eyes were uncovered. The bullet hit his head, and he lay, hanging it in a canal. Blood from the wound colored the water. I looked at his eyes:

– Why are you here? Why did I have to shoot you? I remembered my younger brothers, my peers. Mother stood opposite: "What did you do?" She asked, and tears flowed on her face. I was crying. I don’t know what force made me lean toward him. I kissed him in the forehead. He has not yet cooled. Someone, holding my hand tightly, raised me. He put a pin in my hand and said, "Cut off his ears". With a mixed sense of confusion and fear, I looked at him…

Dagger was blunt. After several attempts, I, finally, not that broke them, or cut them off.

The soldier, who had only a few days to serve, with some pleasure carefully wrapped them in paper and put them in his pocket.

How I raised my hands on this, I don’t understand. After all, before that I couldn’t even squeeze the bucket, and then I almost cut off the boy’s ears with a dumb knife. Yes, the war disgraces some, and harms others.

Among our soldiers established the custom of cruel, bloody. To the "old" soldier a young one must necessarily bring some cut organ of the killed enemy. When I first heard about this "habit", I was shocked. This is probably the highest manifestation of cruelty. There are a lot of things that I cannot and do not want to talk about. And our bodies were fragmented, and we manufactured the same. The thirst for blood swept both sides.

Our assembly was discovered, and we headed back to the company. Someone cried out: "Lie down!" From surprise, everyone got caught up. The commander said:

– Well, guys, we’ll try our happiness again. – And shot two silhouettes on the top of the mountain. Two eagles went up in the air.

The next day, we were shot from the shells. It became clear that the killed were from there. We usually placed mines under bodies, so we knew that the relatives of the killed who tried to take the body also died.

September 21st. We went on the IFV took to the road leading to Surubi. From the two sides the mountains rise. The boys, who set up on the armor of the IFV, are observing. Upon arrival at our destination, we took positions on the road. There were exploded IFV on the way. Distance between posts is 2 km. We got to the third post. During the day we rested, and in the evening, at nine o’clock, we went to the mountains to arrange a siege. After we built the fortification on the spot, the shooting began. A rocket flew into the air. The Afghan's donkeys were lying dead, but they were not seen. When they came down, they were already far from us. The newcomers were too hasty to start shooting, and all our efforts turned out to be in vain.

There was a waterfall next to our post. On other posts with water it was tight and when we came to one of them to change comrades, the guys ran out to meet us.

– Misha Klykov was killed, – they said. This was the first death of my friend. His body was wrapped in a blanket. There was no left hand, the meat from the back was rubbed and the bones too. The intestines are folded next to them, and the removed fingers are folding to the head. He exploded on a mine buried at the edge. He was twenty years old that day. Tonight we were going to celebrate his birthday. Misha went out on the road with a barrel to get water from us…

In memory of the deceased, we had three days of mourning. All these three days there was bread and a glass of water at the soldier’s bed.

Misha lived in the 19th quarter of Chilanzar. He was the only son in the family. After the end of the service, I visited his parents, both of whom were terribly old. They didn’t want to let me go, they bothered me all around. His portrait hung on the wall. I couldn’t sit with them for long. In front of me was a terrible picture of that day.

"MURDERER AT NINETEEN YEARS OLD"

Fazlitdin Rasulov, 1965 year of birth. From Tashkent, Uzbekistan

– I was a sapphire. We guarded the bridge across the river Hilmenda. We were brought the ammunition and food across this bridge. We had to protect the cars. Three tanks went out every day. The enemy placed an assembly in the nearby destroyed villages. The elimination of every settlement, the demining of roads was achieved at the cost of fierce battles.

There was a lot left in the memory that I wanted to remove from it. One story that happened stuck and often reminds of itself. Scouts reports that the meeting of Afghan commanders was scheduled in the village located twenty kilometers away.

We went into that village. A regiment followed us. Kilometers to six before the village we noticed several houses. Next to them we saw a kariz in the growth of a man. Usually such cherries were located near the dushman's houses. We were surprised and alerted by this.

The tunnels are dug in an open way for ten meters, and then in a closed way. On the surface a hole is carved like a well. In the closed part of the kariz, four more recesses are dug in four directions. Therefore, it is very difficult to hit the enemy hidden in these buildings. One of the holes was covered with a bag of some shiny material. I saw him first, I was alarmed and pointed to my friend Mumin from Andijan. As soon as he looked out of the AFV manhole, the bag moved to the side, from there a man with a black beard in a black turban and in a black chekmen looked and, shooting from the anti-tank weapon, fled quickly. The car started burning. Mumin and I were stuck in the lounge as I sat, hanging my legs from car.

The worst thing during an AFV fire is an explosion, because the car is filled with shells and grenades. In order to survive, it is necessary to get away at a distance. After a moment, I fell to the ground. Striking my head at something hard, I lost consciousness for a while. When I recovered, I heard that deaf grenades and shells were spreading from our AFV. In an instant, it burned like a box of fireworks. There were guys lying next to me. Their faces were bleeding. It smelled like blood, it seemed as if the blood was flowing in mixture with the sage. The soldier, lying closer to me, had ears as if specially stained with thick blood. The captain was lying next to me in a convulsion. He raised his hands and said: "Why have I come, let this land be cursed?" And quiet…

After a while we approached the remains of the AFV. I had a serious headache. Two of our soldiers came down to the quarry. One, apparently feeling something, immediately jumped up. The second failed. Shot down. There was no brave man who wanted to go down after the dead soldier. Six bulletproof vests covered the side where the Afghans settled, but their bullets broke through the cover. Then the sappers tried to pull out the body with their hooks. However, they also failed to cope with this. It took a long time before we finally managed to retrieve the dead soldier’s body. After that, the IFV began to shoot kariz from the cannon. The regiment was standing at the bottom and no one understood what was going on there, where the cannon was firing. Smoke bomb was thrown into the hole, only after the dushmans began to get out of their shelter one by one. The man with a black beard came out last. He was in a subconscious state. One leg below the knee was completely removed. The blood flowing from the foot was mixed with dust. One of the Afghans held his leg.

Prisoners were interrogated on the spot. They pointed to another clearance, where five women were hidden, intended as gifts to the leaders. The blinds of the three testified to their youth, and the black color of the blinds indicated that they were thirty-year-old women.

On that day, the dushmans were to arrive in the village Sangin for an important meeting.

We subjected the village to heavy shelling. After such a hurricane fire, the devil would have left this light himself, but we were met with a strong retaliatory fire.

We were ordered to take enemies alive. As one of the surviving sappers, I was included among the spies. We walked unnoticed to the chest. From the window of a small valley there was a continuous fire. Then the soldiers, coming from the side, knocked the door with their feet and rushed inside. I stayed at the door. In order to get to the inner yard, it was necessary to take about twenty steps. As soon as the soldiers reached the courtyard, a man with a machine jumped out. I pulled it out of my machine. He fell to the ground and began to run. Our eyes met. He was like a wolf, scratching his teeth, but soon his enlarged pupils froze in place. He was dead. At nineteen I became a murderer. Not by my own will, but this does not save you from hard thoughts. I still can’t forget that scene. His white teeth, frozen eyes are chasing me now.

"…NO FANTASY IS ENOUGH…"

Baymurat Mamanov, born in 1967. Kashkadarya Region, Uzbekistan.

Injured in Kindahar.

– The sergeant from Khorezm was named Ozod. One day his AFV exploded on a mine. Dushmans tried to take him alive, wounded. He escaped from the beaten AFV and, seeing the enemies approaching, hid himself in a nearby pipe. They, making sure that no one was left alive in the car, gave several rows on the pipe. We hurried for help and were not far away. The Afghans, feeling bad, fled to the nearby ruins. When we approached, Ozod came out of the pipe. One hand was shot and hanged helplessly down. We took him carefully into the car. No one dared to approach the burning AFV – there were deaf explosions. We returned back. Two days later we went to the AFV to pick up spare parts. Looking into the car, I saw two broken legs. The soldier burned alive in the car. No one thought about his burial and especially about sending him home. Perhaps, instead of the dead soldier's body in the zinc tomb sent salt. Yes, there was something like that.

During the demining, the machine "Ural" exploded. The senior lieutenant, sitting in the cabin, broke off both legs. He slipped to my side. His legs, stuck in his pants, walked behind him. Instead of tears, blood flowed from the eyes. I looked at him with horror. A noble, beautiful commander in a few moments turned into a terrible rubbish. Carefully lifted, I took it to the AFV. At this time, the lower part of the pants barely held, broke off with the legs and fell to the ground. No one was able to raise them. I look at the feet and I think they are going to get up and go. Some unknown force bring me to lift them up, they were still warm. I gave them to the guys sitting on the AFV. Some of my fellow servants put them down as if it was ordinary wooden beads.

The soldier, lying in the wreck, was also stripped one leg. He repeated: "Mommy, mommy, give me water!" He was also put on the AFV. The broken leg was not found. The driver, from the strong impact flew out of the viewing window, lay with his head shaken. Something intestinal, stretching from his neck, wrapped his chest.

No fantasy can paint such scenes. In war, you always think of the imminent death, you constantly feel its breath, ignorance and decision from everything. But, die so ugly, like a dog… If you meet some bright clearing, it attracts you like a magnet, you want to die in such a good place under a blue cloudless sky. Having a home, parents, family, people who love you seems like a happy but distant dream. Now they are gone. You will not see, you will not hear. All around is anxiety, horror, death.

The sappers have a very difficult job. Death always walks next to them. Not in vain it says: "Sapper only once makes a mistake".

We started cleaning off the road that the column was supposed to go through. Here one of the Afghans ran and that about five hundred dushmans were hiding in the ruins. When I told to the officer, he did not believe it.

– Continue to demine, – he ordered.

The shooting soon began. We didn’t even know where to hide. We remembered the wasp buzzing of bullets, the demolished upper part of the skull of the Samarkand guy and his white brain. I looked at him in exaggeration. Then the white brain gradually began to become red and blood flowed. The boy's hands were held by the tank with an iron grip, it seemed as if a villain-sculptor had created a terrible statue. The tank turned and went back. The boy’s brains crashed into the iron car.

From somewhere aircraft appeared and began to bomb the enemy. They shot from a rifle. This time we were protected and able to get back in part. On that day, the road remained undemined.

I can’t forget another story. The soldiers along with the captain went to the desert for demining. My legs fell into the sand. The sun burned unhappy. It was not possible to recognize each other in the face. The throat was dry, it seemed like instead of air we swallowed hot sand. At that time, the signal was given by the mine-detector. He began to scratch the land carefully, arrived at the mine, it was Italian-made. I asked the commander to blow it up on the spot.

– No, you will take the explosive device here.

In fact, we, the sappers, when a mine is detected, must destroy it on the spot. The commander's orders cannot be fulfilled. Others moved to a safe distance. I began to remove the explosive carefully, a cold sweat in an instant covered my body. It seemed like an explosion was about to happen. As soon as I removed the explosive, I instantly debilitated. On the cotton legs took the mine to the AFV. We went further. Luckily, I saw a mine on the road. I met the commander in the eyes.

– Take this one off, too, – he said mockingly.

– I will not, – I answered stubbornly.

– You will go to court! – He cried out.

The soldiers stood down. In such cases, you curse the military service a thousand times. Oh, be free now and spit in the face of this ugly guy!

The distance between me and the "baby"1 is about ten meters. My feet fall into the sand. The mine lies on the sand, like on a perineum. "The Baby of Death". My legs are being heavy, I can’t walk. The cold sweat swelled the body again. The eyes began to close themselves. I can’t keep the eyelids. I prayed to the household, father and mother, whom I had not seen for a thousand years: "My relatives, protect me, please, banish death! May my remains not remain unburied in this strange hot country. May I die in your arms. Is there really no place for me in my native village? Pray to God, ask him to be merciful!" – I whispered.

We met one by one. It was as if it was saying, "Now I will scatter your hated body". Then I saw death in sight. The mine opened its black jaws, as if laughing. I cringed. I looked around. The soldiers hid behind the AFV. The yellow-faced man who had sent me to my death was watching me intently from behind the shelter.

This picture, and maybe my prayers all worked together, I came to myself: I felt a tide of strength, courage. In front of me was an ordinary "landmine". Without thinking, I removed the explosive, raised the mine. The soldiers, seeing this, fled again to a considerable distance. I brought a mine and got into the car with it. Everyone was watching, holding their breath. We returned to the regiment in silence.

– You are called by the chief of staff, – said the captain when he returned.

Now I did not care. I could even go to hell with this mine, because hell was on my chest. When a man is brought to extremes, he is capable of anything.

When they saw me with a mine on my chest, they all threw up. When I entered the chief of staff, his eyes almost came out of the orbit. He began to retreat.

– Put it there, put it there—only the chief of staff could speak, pointing to a corner away from him.

I remember another case. After serving four months in the desert, I returned to the regiment. I have been in the army for a year and a half. We were raised at four in the morning. They brought shoes from somewhere. I climbed, but on the way it started rubbing the leg, then I removed. It seemed like I couldn’t reach the goal today. I felt like I was on a mine and I exploded. Two soldiers were sent to demine the roof of the house. We were waiting for them. A lot of time has passed and concerns have grown. At this time there was an explosion, dust rose and soon settled.

– What happened there, go find out, – the commander told me.

It is not difficult to understand the feelings with which I went to execute this order. As soon as I entered the house, I saw an open crack in the ceiling that formed after the explosion. One soldier failed in it. His face could not be recognized. There was blood, but it was hard to know where it came from. I tried to help him, but he refused:

– Find my machine, I’ll go out myself, – he said. His machine was attached to the wall of the house. It's hard to say now whether I understood then what he was up to, but the machine gave. This happened often. At that moment there was a scream from the house: "Help!". I turned and took a step back. On the staircase leading to the roof of the house, a soldier stood and held a wounded comrade in his arms. I took a wounded man from him, but as soon as I tried to come down with him, there was a terrible explosion. The wounded man fell out of my arms, and I flew out of the house.

I woke up in the stretcher. I wanted to get up, but it didn’t work. Looking at my legs, I found that I had not one of my legs, and the other turned into something like a meat puddle. The trousers on the legs were broken. Someone ran somewhere, quarreled, screams were heard. They gave me some medicine to smell in the car. It seemed like I drank a lot of vodka. Then they turned from one side to the other. I don't remember anything further.

Four days I failed in the Kandahar hospital, from there I was transferred to Kabul. On the naked legs was put a bandage. Bandage was tightly attached to the bone, it was very painful. Three hours from the healthy part of the leg cut off the skin and attached to the bare bone of the feet. But everything is unsuccessful.

I was taken to Tashkent. Severe pain was caused by bandages attached to the bone. I could not sleep all night. It seems that the whole body has turned into a continuous rupture, ready to break. In Tashkent, the doctor, removing the bandages, tightly compressed my legs. The pain was terrible.

– The foot is clean, there are no cracks, – he said.

I was operated on that day. When I woke up at night, I didn’t feel any pain in my leg. I thought a lot about meeting home. I thought I would enter my hometown. Everybody knows that the news of such trouble spreads very quickly in the cheeks. My heart broke when I thought about it. Many times I thought: "Would I go back like this?". In front of my eyes passed dead comrades and blamed me for such thoughts.

The older brother arrived. When he saw me, he cried. Apparently, something was wrong with the remaining leg, and I was sent to Moscow. There I met a friend from Namangan. He lost two eyes. We walked together. Bitter tears flowed from his eyes.

Doctors promised him to do surgery, but only a year later and did not guarantee that at least one eye would see.

– If I don’t get my eyesight back, I won’t go back to my hometown. I will live here until I die, – he said.

He was very sociable, I couldn’t withstand his complaints and tried to avoid them, because I could not comfort him or myself.

I was treated in Moscow.

My older brother knew what had happened to me, but when I got back in the shell and went home on a prosthesis with a trunk in my hands, my mom was fossilized near the gate. Then she ran to meet me, pressed me to my chest…

"STARS IN DIFFERENT WORLDS"

Bahriddin Haydarov, born in 1967. From Bukhara region of Uzbekistan.

– The year 1986. Beginning of October. We returned from Hanabad to Kunduz. It was announced that Ahmad Shah had returned. His men settled in the highest, well-fortified place. Our battalion was strengthened by a regiment of motor gunmen. The Afghan sarandoi were also with us. At ten o’clock we were located four hundred meters from enemy positions. Seeing our preparations, the dushmans began to shoot first.

Two AFV were sent from us for investigate. However, they quickly returned, the soldiers reported something, and the commander decided that there was no point in attacking.

Planes were called. They, along with artillery, began to intensively shot at enemy fortifications. Unable to withstand the arranged hell, the Afghans withdrew to the village of Hanabad. In the battle a boy from Leninabad was wounded. We took three prisoners. When we, the sappers, purified this elevation, we were ordered to stay here and to settle.

We cut down trees around the fortification. The next day after returning to the location of the regiment, came the news that enemy units had appeared in Herat. We flew there by plane. From there we were transported to the mountains by helicopter. Three days later, we met in the mountains. The enemy stood on the opposite mountain. The distance between us was about a kilometer. Every movement could be seen in the binoculars. Among them we noticed people in foreign shape with light hair, as well as Arabs. They disassembled machine guns and mines.

There was another squadron next to us. In the first battle, my commander was injured. Tashbay Kurbanbayev and I each have 15 soldiers left.

At night fighting had stopped. I cannot describe it in detail, because battle in the mountains is different than in the plains. It seems like bullets are flying into you from all sides, you do not notice who is dead and who is still alive. Sometimes you can’t figure out what the enemy is hiding behind.

I remembered the whistling of bullets, the fires of shells, mortars, their echo in the mountains.

At three o’clock at night, when everything was quiet, I and the Khorezm boy had to change the guard in office. Soldiers are sleeping well. We were located in opposite points, a hundred meters away from the sleeping soldiers. In order not to lose vigilance, agreed to throw small stones. In the mountains, especially at the base, was some unusual darkness. It seemed like all the darkness was gathered around between the two peaks. You look down and it becomes awful. In the sky, the stars are shining – they are also unusually bright: the Big Bear, here is the Milky Way. It is good for study astronomy here. Nevertheless, these beautiful stars lead to unfortunate thoughts. They see everything. But if in my homeland there is a quiet, peaceful life under them, then here they look at the blood, the broken human bodies, the armored soldiers’ legs, the explosions of bombs, and the venerations of mothers. Per that’s why the stars look like they’re shrinking from fear. Peaceful life is hard to imagine.

My thoughts were interrupted by a suspicious noise. Someone approached me. It was about half five in the morning. I threw a stone to the side of the partner, he in the same way made it clear what he heard. The rustle was getting closer. At this time, somewhere it was fired from a rocket, everything around it lighted up in light. At three hundred meters from me I saw behind the nearby valley turban. I shoot from a rocket. My partner in long rows began to shoot from the machine gun in the direction of the valley. I heard the stone, and it all melted.