Fighter Musa Kazimagomedov: "Akhmat" is strength, and Russia is power
Now Musa is resting in his homeland after several months of fighting in Ukraine. And he told me about how his fellow countrymen fight.
What is a war without nokhchi?
How did I get to Ukraine? Like all the guys from my mountain village. Like many Nokhchi (Chechens), of those who are older, I went through two wars. My parents were what I needed. Father is a communist, mother is generally a Bolshevik. And I grew up a ragamuffin, like Tom Sawyer.
My parents didn't let me pass. When Dudayev broke through to power, the war began. The father did not survive this grief. Died. Following him, his mother quietly went to Allah. And as a result, the Nokhcha found themselves between three fires - militants, alien terrorists and the Russian army. Wherever you turn, treachery creeps in from everywhere.
We flew into a black hole with cosmic overload. As Ukrainians are now. Akhmat Kadyrov stopped this fatal flight of death. He went against the militants and against the Arabs. He understood something that no one can understand in Ukraine: Russia is the only country that guarantees us life. Everyone else will burn us in the furnace of war.
Akhmat knew that he would be killed. Either Western intruders, or local shaitans - those who sold themselves to them. There were plenty of devils back then. They caught him - at the stadium. And Ramzan turned out to be even cooler. He, by the way, is also not afraid of death at all. Real nohcha.
Ramzan pulled out all the militants from the "green office" (forest thicket). He gave me an amnesty and put me on the right notions. And everyone understood that it was necessary to serve Russia, otherwise they would burn us like consumables. As now the West is burning Ukraine.
Ramzan either felt or knew that there was a big battle ahead with the devils. And she came. And we went to war. What kind of war without nokhchi? The wife hung on her neck - I won’t let go! Not a woman, but a stumbling block. And tears from her eyes - in two jets, like Nikulin in the circus.
I still left. Fifteen more people left the village to fight with me. Indigenous abreks. We danced the Vainakh lezginka for the last time - and we were on our way. Behind us are Chechnya and Russia, ahead are Ukrainians and devils. There is nowhere to retreat.
In war as in war
During the offensive on the front, of course, there are only solid nerves. You can't relax at all. As a familiar marine said in between battles: “Already vodka doesn’t catch - even gnaw the earth.” Although sometimes it's fun. Especially when you trot on the front of the BTEers. The breeze blows on you, beats ahead of the art, the soul breaks into battle.
And in protection - boredom. We say: "God invented love and friendship, but the devil invented the security service." You stand on the "chip" (hidden post), you do not close your eyes, you stare into the tepak (thermal imager). And so all night. In the morning it was as if sand had been poured into my eyes. Also, my feet get wet all the time. No matter what you put on - at the end of the day, the water in the shoe covers gurgles. You walk like an aquarium man.
Trench life, of course, is still a pleasure. In war, the main thing is to equip your life. So that it is warm in the trenches, so that the legs do not rot, so that the socks are dry, so that the icicle does not ring in the wind.
There is only one guy in our platoon: hands are gold. Everything is on fire in his hands. And the radio will fix, and the car and the tank, and the armored personnel carrier. In the Caucasus, these are called "auto-moto-telephoto-velo-radio-fitter". He will make such a hut from a bunch of branches in any stronghold (stronghold) - you will swing.
Ukrainians are different
And the truth is - there are sane people, there are not many of them, but there are completely stubborn ones. These Natsik brains were combed in black. Rather, they turned it off like a switch, and circled like suckers. In Mariupol, we uprooted them from all the cracks, like cockroaches. Bite to the last.
And during the interrogation they are silent, like dead fish, and many are "cased" (shot with drugs). He stands, thin as a bicycle himself - hatred weighs more than himself in him. There is confusion in the brains, only hatred for the Russians was planted there.
Marvelous. After all, we also fought with the Russians before Akhmat. But even we did not have such hatred. And when we expelled the Russians, the Arabs and the British came. And we compared, and realized what a stupid thing we did. And they began to fight already with the Arabs. And with those of our people who brought them to Chechnya. But crests do not see such an insight. They live in madness.
They are now all involved in some tragedies and awkwardness (failures). And now they are lassoing them right on the street. Hello, dear, you have a message. Do you want to die from Russian artillery? No? Then throw a "bracelet" (handcuffs) on the claw (hand).
They sweep everyone in a row - crooked, oblique, lame, disabled. Even from tuberculosis dispensaries. We had one such prisoner. He also joked: “And now the choir of tuberculosis boys will sing the song “Better there is no other world.” Remember, there was such a hit in Soviet times.
And near Bakhmut, two cool lads were taken prisoner. "Bukhomors" (alcoholics) finished. They were swept straight from the sobering-up station to the front. They spent several hours in a row beautifully bald in their hut in Kharkov. On the fifth glass, the booze ended.
Couldn't stop. He laid siege to the fifth glass - the valves opened. As one of them said, “if I break through the second bottle, I start to hurricane.” It broke through. Nashkryabali money, ran for an addition to the night shop (night shop).
Here their dragons (policemen) swept up. And they were evacuated to a local sober-refrigerator. And the Nazis came there with subpoenas. And, without sobering up, they ended up at the front, in a trench. They were knocked into a heap there, loaded into some kind of long-length thief and taken straight to the front. And they are “drenched” (pumped up with alcohol) to the very eyebrows.
"We'll fight to the bone"
And even in the thief they sinned greatly - they managed to catch up to the standard. On the front line, "Comrade Pokhmel" came to them. There was no booze, but I wanted to catch up. Everyone sits “in rods” (a state of internal heaviness). They shot some kind of joint at the neighbors in the trench, they decided to puff.
And if you thump and varnish with weed - the “arrival” (the state of inspiration, excitement, rage, etc.) goes more. In the trenches, almost everyone knows this, it is so. Atomic schmal turned out to be a Molotov cocktail. The roof is moving, the house is standing. Here are the “bukhomors” sitting, waiting for the arrival.
And then on the "front end" went active movements. Dust, din, hustle and bustle. Our art has worked. We flew forward with the landing force. They sprawled at the bottom of the trench. And we got in there. That's it, the merchants came to the dacha. And there are two of these witches sitting. Purely homeless.
Faces, like Lenin and Karl Marx. One has a bruise under his eye. One sees that we will not touch him, and stepped right over the trench, like Lenin on an armored car. There was a solemn exit of a cockroach from under the stove.
Such a thin little karapet, but he pushed an incendiary speech. About the friendship of peoples, damned imperialists and so on. Waiting for his "arrival". He was covered, and he went haywire. We laughed for a long time, life teaches us to laugh through tears. We then culturally evacuated this "sweet couple" to the rear. And they went on to fight.
We will fight here with the shaitans “to the point of melting”. Everyone here has their own destiny and their own mood of the soul. Although we now have the same mood - everyone is ready to proudly die for the Motherland. All nokhcha now have a “tack” on this topic. Akhmat is strength, Russia is power, Donbass is invincible, Victory will be ours.
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