Moonless block of October night has fallen on the ground. The wind wasn’t blowing but pounding the cigarette into the face of a guard, who tried lighting it to no avail.
But below, in a bunker (actually, it was a huge, damp dugout, hidden at the very front end in some ruins… Getting to this hideout on such a rogue’s night was a full-scale pleasure, as the cloak of darkness created illusive safety and we walked by feel, wrapped up in it, without a fear to be hit) – exactly in this monumental building, among snores and quietness, battalion commander Buzina and company sapper Kunitsa were hitting the path.
“The Path” is a 50 kg backpack with a hose stuck full of explosives. One had to come close to the marking line and throw the hose in such a way, that it laid in the right direction, it was set on fire then, and “the path” guaranteed scattering and detonation of infantry mines, creating a 30-40 centimeters narrow trail, which will be walked by stormtroopers at the dawn.
The brigade will storm again tomorrow, that is why Buzina and Kunitsa are sleepless again - preparing the battlefield.
But things didn’t go well. At first Les dragged the Path, but close to midnight he was hit and wounded - his legs got broken. The accompanying Kotelok dragged him to the near rear.
And now, only skinny Kozak tried to crawl up to the backpack which was lying somewhere ahead.
They have been struggling for nearly three hours – the time suddenly has become very nimble and was boiling with tripled speed.
“Baba-Yaga is flying to the shelter…” - Kunitsa shouted to the walkie-talkie. Kozak wheezed something in response, and barely noticeable point disappeared from the screen after couple of weary seconds.
“He laid low” – Buzina explained squinting at Monakh. The deputy brigade commander, who seemed to never sleep, calmly rummaged through his tablet right there at the maps covered table.
Leonydych planned all these assault operations and I perfectly understood, how important that path was – one more arrow in his tablet, which Kozak was now trying to draw, risking his life in under the deafening wind, in the blinding darkness. Baba Yaga was either blown away or it simply left and Kozak nearly made it till the backpack, when suddenly he was pounded by enemy AGS (AGS-17 grenade launcher).
“Where is he, alive, find him…” - Buzina shouted to his fellows, and same weary minutes again, followed by happy Kozank’s voice:
- Alive and working.
- What’s with the Path, what’s with the path… - Kunitsa shouted back…
- I’m alive, alive, - Kozak’s voices sounded happily - a shrapnel hit my backpack, I was wearing it, and I’m alive, alive, the Path saved me…
Kunitsa and Busina glared at the imperturbable Monakh. Only the Lord knows the price of this tranquility. Only the Lord, who has granted us such a life in the dawn hour down this damp bunker.
“Without the Path tomorrow, our landing party will go uncovered, so many guys will perish, without a cover – do you read me?” - He was setting the objective to Kunitsa the day before. Evergloomy sapper Kinitsa kept silent, just like now, and, just like now, he glared at Leonydych.
And he pressed tangent again:
- Throw the Path, do you read me, is it ok?
- I have thrown it. The hose was hit by shrapnel, not sure if it works… – came a wheeze in response… Through the thumping of the damned AGS, which kept trying to grope for his soul.
And soon there was no time for them anymore, a convoy jumped out of the lowland and rushed to the landing point. A very right convoy - a steel [armored vehicle like BMP], a cam [tank], then two steels and again a cam... The ukies woke up when the column had covered half the distance:
“So far, so good”, - Monakh grunted. “Good” means the ukrops didn't wake up immediately, they weren't expecting the assault, and if they started firing halfway, it means they didn’t figure out where the final point is…
Still, damn, “Good” for now, but the walkie-talkies on the table all came to life at once and started yelling, yelling... And despite right now the hell itself is breaking loose out there, and that place is too hot even for the devils - that's still “Good” because the men have already arrived and are fighting - doing the most manly work on Earth: laying down their lives on the altar of the Motherland...
The landing party disembarked, the Path, most probably, worked, the convoy turned back not as a convoy anymore: the 'elephants'[tanks] cautiously, as if feeling their way, began to crawl across the field, spitting fire back at the ukrops, and the 'brooms' [MTLB vehicle] skedaddled away in zigzags.
And immediately the walkie-talkies on the table started shouting only with the voices of the platoon leader Mitya and deputy combat commander for operations, Beliy.
The landing party was now openly occupying positions under fire, for the sake of Mitya's platoon, which had been crawling for a day with their teeth clenched, avoiding the treacherous position of Voronka by holding on to the clever trajectory drawn by Monakh.
While the ukrops were distracted by the landing, Mitya eagerly extinguished a machine gun and destroyed the first enemy stronghold, jumped into the second, and pushed against a dugout:
“The ukies have rushed into the dugout and locked themselves in... I'll be working with grenades now...”- he reported and crawled himself through the trench to the wildly shooting dugout...
“Ah-ah-ah, fuck, I'm hit,” - he yelled incessantly and crawled... And all the airwaves were silent, you can't disturb a man at work and mumble under his breath... Mitya crawled up, and the beastly dugout went silent...
“Put on a bandage and crawl forward to the plantation [small wood or area planted with trees/bushes or mixed], there's the next position, take out the ukies and hold the defense,” - Beliy yelled.
“You can't stay there, you won't hold that position, take the next one, you won't hold this one, but the reinforcement group is ready, as soon as you take bush, I'll send them right away...”
I probably saw Mitya about half a year ago. 'Probably' because it was hard to remember him, just a most ordinary man in his early forties. I think we were offered tea in some kind of shed or barracks or basement... He was sitting among others, or maybe standing... I don't remember – just a very ordinary, kind person... And now he, having applied a tourniquet to his thigh and somehow plugged the hole in his shoulder, was crawling excitedly up the embankment head-on towards the ukies together with his guys, ready to bite and strangle them even with one hand.
And the ukies fell into such despair from this determination, that their cries could be heard even on our radio - there was no mercy to be expected from the quiet and inconspicuous Mitya...
Mitya became a platoon leader a few days ago when his commander was seriously injured. Beliy and I went to meet him for evacuation.
It howled and boomed all around us, a Bukhanka [famous van] with medics was hiding under the trees, and in the distance, a light burned, and a street vendor was operating.
And to this light, fighters who were waiting for something in the vicinity gathered to drink tea.
Inside the stall sat a stocky merchant lady, quaffing vodka by glasses with an equally rowdy female friend, serving starters - sprats and melted cheese [processed cheese like “Druzhba”-popular appetizer] directly on the counter.
And the quiet, battered little man was pouring tea for everyone.
“Two teabags and four spoons of sugar,”- Beliy stated sternly... The merchant told some kind of joke, Beliy retorted with dignity, and then, when we were drinking tea in the dark near the car, he suddenly told me:
“Damn, we need to burn down this stall if it serves my soldiers vodka. Think about it, one is going into battle, he's anxious, and here they're pouring vodka... He won't resist, he'll drink, and then there's fight, and they'll kill him drunk... Normulj needs to be sent to talk...”
I knew Beliy since the beginning of the war; this slender young guy, not even in his thirties yet, now commanded the combat operations of an entire battalion and sent, men who were sometimes twice his age, into battle.
In a year and a half of war, he had seen so much that he had become very serious. And his sense of humor had become the same - very severe, only someone who had seen Beliy in action could understand him.
And I knew Normulj - a huge, handsome platoon leader in Beliy's company. Now he commanded that company. Normul didn't have a sense of humor at all. If he negotiates, then most probably everything will be as it should...
Then they brought in the wounded - former Mitya’s platoon leader - a tall, lanky man close to his fifties laid in a tent cloak and smiled softly, pressing a blood-soaked wad of bandages to his neck.
I knew they had dragged him to this tent from the very front - about 10 kilometers, then jolted him along in the van under fire. And now, finally, a splendid young female medic in a bulletproof vest stood over him and said:
“We've brought him in, it seems good, he's wounded only in the muscles, bones are not affected...”
That's when Beliy decided that Mitya would be the platoon leader:
“Where's his armor and rifle? Give it to Mityai, let him take over the duties, I'll handle the paperwork later...”- said Beliy to the accompanying...
And now Mitya, whom I just couldn't remember, all battered - broken, finally found this position in the plantings, finished off the ukies and took up defense.
“That's it, I'm sending the “Broom” [MTLB] with the reinforcement group,” - Beliy's hoarse voice cried out...
And at that moment, I felt a weight lift from my heart - the piece of armor [armored vehicle] had arrived and disembarked the fighters who were supposed to hold the position that Mitya had fought for. They went along that very trail - that's what it was needed for.
While the ukies were fighting with Mitya and bombarding him with everything they could, reinforcements were crawling in unnoticed along the route that Kunitsa had cleared.
That's why two sappers and their cover, Kotelok, risked their lives on that windy, rogue night.
I felt so light and good from the unexpected understanding of the beauty of this daring plan brought to life that I wanted to light up a cigarette in relief along with Monakh.
I was already thinking that in the evening I would go again with Beliy to meet Mitya and now I would definitely remember his face.
And I didn't make it... Mitya had almost crawled along the trail to the piece of armor when a shell landed. And Mitya, who had almost survived, was killed. And the driver survived, only something had burst in his eyes so violently that his face became flooded with black blood, and he was blinded forever.
Later they pulled him out of the burning vehicle and dragged him back to the position...
Because the day has already broken, and there was no possibility of evacuation...
But I didn't hear all that anymore, I couldn't take it and left...
And Monakh and the young boy-commanders stayed because the soldiers needed them.
And only our Lord God knows into how many pieces their hearts are shattered - to live every day and night life in all this.
They stayed. And I couldn't anymore and left. And I thought only of one thing - what Mitya did today, it's not a feat. This, damn it, is such a man's job - to give one's life for the Motherland...
Farewell, Mitya...
Beautiful text Marat. As only a Russian poet can write. Goodbye Mitya.
It is beautiful. there listening and watching.