Confession officer
In the story of my friend, a paratrooper officer who passed through New Year's hell, from 1994 to 1995 year, the storming of Grozny, there are no memories of falling snow, December and January cold. “Why?” I thought. Winter in Chechnya - a test of snow, rain, hot wind. And I realized that for the intelligence officer, an intellectual, the most painful torture in those days was not winter, but what he tells about himself ...I
“We served. They served as best they could: honestly, with the landing fanaticism, devotion to the blue beret and the Motherland. Since the beginning of the nineties, they have participated in almost all the ethnic conflicts that flared up in Russia (Transnistria, North and South Ossetia, Ingushetia). Received orders and medals, special titles, grew up in the ranks. Bones lay down if someone did not take on the next combat mission. There were practically no losses.
We did not know what was waiting for us Chechnya.
Although anxiety grew in my soul ... At the end of 1992, participating in the Ossetian-Ingush conflict, after the “triumphant” offensive on the territory of Checheno-Ingushetia, I stood at the airfield: either in Mozdok, or in Beslan - and considered a battered BMD-2 landing battalion (our neighbors), more precisely, what was left of it: a pile of iron, soaked in blood and shattered bones of two crew members. I was beginning to understand that everything was still ahead ...
In 1993, one of the officers asked me: “Why do you have your personnel in the classroom doing exercises on dashes, crawling and making to battle on asphalt? This is terribly painful! The soldiers will hate you. ” I did not answer. I had a premonition of Chechnya ...
Much has been written about the storming of Grozny on New Year's Eve from 1994 to 1995. But recently I read in one book about that slaughter: “The Eastern group, which did not fulfill the task set, was withdrawn from Grozny”. It became insulting and bitter for those who died in those days.
“What to do?” I reflected. Yes, the truth often incinerates, can humiliate, deprive of illusions. But it is true, the only thing that remained in my memory about the days and nights of the Eastern military group, slandered in the book, the name of which - and this is true - was not preserved in consciousness.
Our airborne unit arrived in Mozdok in early December 1994 of the year. We housed at the airfield - in its remote part, and, having secured the territory, began to prepare for the implementation of special tasks. Planned classes were held, preparations were made for the conduct of hostilities.
We received our first task in 20's December dates. We were divided into the so-called consolidated groups that were part of the military groups going to Grozny. In our consolidated group aimed at the eastern direction, there were 25 intelligence officers: officers and soldiers. I commanded a group of soldiers.
Groups like ours had intelligence and sabotage tasks on paper. In fact, we were "cut" to cover special areas, ensure the security of the command, and perform special tasks.
25 December 1994, we, as a part of the column, began the nomination on the route Mozdok - Tolstoy-Yurt - Argun. We spent the night in Tolstoy Yurt. There were about 20 "Gradov" and "Hurricanes". I still remember the eyes of one of my soldiers, who rejoiced at the volley of powerful rocket launchers: “Commander! This is a salute! ”-“ This is not a salute, Andrei, ”I said. - And the first war in your life. The real one. ” I did not know then that for Andrei this war would be the last one in his life, which ended in a few days on the rebellious Chechen-Russian land.
After receiving the task, we 26 December went to the area of concentration of the Eastern grouping under Argun. This huge colossus of people and technology was an unorganized, hungry mass. New armored personnel carriers, artillery guns were side by side with crumpled and torn equipment. The soldiers, tortured, exhausted, chaotically moved through the "clean" field among a gathering of military equipment, bristling with trunks in different directions. It was a swarm of people covered in mud. They stood here for a long time: unwashed and not eaten a lot of days. Helicopters flew in from time to time: they took away the dead and wounded. And flew away. The worst came at night. None of the units had a place where the personnel would have a rest: no fortifications, dugouts and dugouts. Only trenches, freshly dug pits and craters from exploded Chechen mines and shells. The soldier was not defended and hid either in a combat vehicle or in a trench, and the war was not only automatic shooting weapons. Therefore, I forced my group to dig into the ground. All day and evening, my soldiers made a dugout in case of mortar attacks. People were tired, cursed, spat, cursed me, but earnestly dug the ground. They made an overlap, got a stove-stove ... By the night the dugout and trenches were ready.
For the whole day - rare shots. Yes, the roar of technology. At night, everything changed. From the beginning of the cannonade and automatic machine gun bursts it became as light as day. The whole group shot ... Where? Unknown.
My group, taking up positions, was involved in the general mechanism of "firing." By midnight, having spent a lot of ammunition, it became clear that the Chechens were firing at our group on all sides, and not only from small arms. Chechen artillery worked for us, and from the east of Argun, at first it was amazing, strange, even Grad. It is better not to recall any interaction, any leadership of our Eastern grouping ... It was not there at all.
I gave the command to my group of twelve soldiers to stop indiscriminate fire and work to detect enemy firing points - the benefit of night vision devices we had.
By morning everything was quiet. Helicopters arrived. The grouping again loaded the wounded and dead. The gunners spent the night an incredible amount of ammunition. They fired and shot at the enemy's likely location, and the infantry took away the shell boxes, then we too, to keep warm at the camouflaged campers.
In the evening of December 27, my group was tasked to advance to the outskirts of Argun in order to reveal the firing points and the real forces of the enemy. Having clarified the task, the battle formations of the divisions of our group, which stood opposite to Argun, I, having divided the group into two parts, began to move. At the sound of the cannonade, slowly and carefully moving, we left, as if from a fire bag, and immediately fell into the trenches of the parachute company, which covered the group from Arghun. I walk through the trench, go and rest against the corpse of the paratrooper lying on the parapet, a machine gun is lying next to it. Bringing the body down - the "corpse" stirred. Although the soldier did not look like a living person. It became clear from his incoherent muttering that he was in this trench for about four days and never ate, where the commander — he did not know what their task was — did not remember. I go through the trenches. Under shelling. Somewhere lies the corpse. Just died. Again you go - the person sleeps. You start to bother - he is not able to think anything. In the dug-out dugout, we found a commander — a young, overgrown lieutenant. “How are you?” I asked him. "No, shoot," - is responsible. I ask: "Then how to get? How can I get to Argun? ”-“ No, ”he says. “We scattered mines around us.” I ask: “Are there any minefield schemes?” - and I realized that I asked in vain. It was not them. From the story of the lieutenant it followed that on the very first day they placed all the mines and stretch marks that existed between their positions and Argun. “Do spirits have mines?” - “There are. They also sketched.
The territory between our Eastern grouping and Argun, occupied by the militants, was by no means impassable. Within its limits it was impossible to conduct reconnaissance, make ambushes. People simply responded to the fire, they themselves inflicted a fire defeat.
Going back to my group meant not fulfilling the task. And I gave the order to shell the likely positions of the Chechens indicated by the lieutenant. After a couple of minutes, Argun, like a dragon, exhaled into us in volleys of Chechen artillery pieces, tanks and small arms. Sitting in the trench, we were terrified of the number of explosions, fountains from enemy bullets.
Three of my observers, having occupied positions to the left of us in advance, calculated several firing points of the militants ...
We returned in the morning, leaving in the trenches of the parachute company all that was with us from the food. A soldier with a soldier will always share, and even more so in a war. Grouping again collected the dead, wounded, wrecked cars. Heavy helicopters flew, inflicted a fire defeat. It is not clear where.
In the afternoon, the group began to move to the Khankala region. There was a battle for this important bridgehead for the storming of Grozny. And in the rear remained Argun with an armed, about 600 militants, gang with tanks and artillery. Argun for some reason did not. Upstairs was more visible. Namely, the Argun fighters later, on January 1, 1995, shoot the first convoy of the wounded of our group, leaving Grozny. The whole column will die. But it will be later.
And then, on December 28 of 1994, the “march” to Grozny continued, led by the “great” warlords of the end of the 20 century. Warlords of a once mighty country that won many wars against external enemies, but for some reason completely forgotten the team experience of the last century, saturated with the blood of our fathers and grandfathers. Everything we did at the turn of 1994-1995 participated, it was like a planned, training march with live firing. History had to punish us, and she did it.
Leaving Argun in the rear, we went to Khankala. Tightened up the rest of the group. Took positions. Circular defense was organized. Everything went to a gradual mastery of the Terrible.
29 December 1994, the Eastern Group consisted of two defense rings and a headquarters in the center. They came tanks, other heavy machinery, artillery. And then my group is assigned the task, uncharacteristic of our unit, to designate a false, ostensibly main attack of the Eastern group on a populated area fifteen kilometers from Khankala - to the south. We ordered to get available heavy armament for the group: grenade launchers, flamethrowers, heavy machine guns, grenades. This group to strike at the locality and keep as much as we can. There was no intelligence that was there. One task was posed: strike, and when we realize that there is no longer possible to hold, having spent the ammunition, we had to go two kilometers to the southeast, where at a certain point we had to take the reconnaissance of the paratroopers. 
We perfectly understood what awaits us. I still managed to get some data on this Chechen locality. There were up to eight artillery units, about four tanks, a good group, and I imagined what would have happened. For some extraordinary circumstances, the reconnaissance of paratroopers was thrown to another direction. Therefore, the order was canceled. We were saved by a miracle. On the night of December 30, we were again assigned an unusual task — to hold the right flank. My group on one beteer was given a self-propelled anti-aircraft gun and a BMD-2 from the landing battalion. When the management sets the task, it is not customary to ask again. Get the task, and how to solve - your problems. Before the storming of Khankala with three units of equipment and personnel, I moved to the right flank and, like a gambler, castling an anti-aircraft gun, the BMD-2 and my batteer, still somehow put them out. Already on the move, I realized what an anti-aircraft gun was: how it shoots, what its radius is. Chose her place. Buried BMD-2, set Beteer. The right flank, as my deputy and I thought, we closed, providing security for possible dangerous directions.
When we exhibited, soldiers constantly walked past us like ants, carrying boxes of 5,45 mm cartridges on themselves. This was, as it turned out, the branch of infantry signalmen. They took up a position in the hollow somewhere about 30 meters northeast of us. Their position was a deep hole, where they dragged boxes of ammunition.
We, the reconnaissance paratroopers, did not have time to dig in, but only blocked the enemy’s probable approaches. The whole area in this area was dug with canals, in which the spirits approached our positions, fired at them and left without hindrance. It was impossible to get them: we had no mortars, nothing effective in such cases ... It was practically impossible to make an ambush: we considered walking the canals to be a killing. We did not sleep the third day. They used pills from sleep: most likely they were only with us.
Towards midnight, something we didn’t even dare think of happened. Those signaling soldiers who, before our eyes, moved into the hollow, staged a perimeter defense there, reloaded all the ammunition and began firing indiscriminately in a circle - in all directions, including us. There was a heavy fire. Had about an hour to lay face in the mud, eat it, smell all shit. Automatic fire from the 30 meters at close range ... Everything sparkles above you, flies ... Wherever in holes, where in shrapnel ... Shooting subsided a bit. I finally figured out where it was from. He set the task for his deputy to advance to the signalers and find out what the problem is there. He advanced only twenty meters. Shooting again. Again, all lay down. Our right flank was completely demoralized. We could not fulfill our task. Standing tall and going to the signalmen was insane. Contact them is also impossible. They did not work on any called frequency.
Crawling with half the group, we advanced to the hollow over the distance of the grenade throw. They began to scream. No shouts that we ours, the signalman did not stop. It seemed they would never run out of ammunition. And only after the threat of throwing grenades, the shooting subsided. It was not a disguise. The spectacle, when illuminated by flashlights, was surreal. People were the real embodiment of horror. Skewed mouths. Red-hot barrels of automata, of which the signalmen motorized infantry during this time have released more than one box of ammunition. They were commanded by a sergeant. To the question: “What is the matter ?!” - he answered only one thing: “We are afraid! We are just afraid! We lost the commander, another officer was wounded. I was left alone by eight people. We fear".
“Did you know that we paratroopers were there?”
- They knew. But we are afraid. How do we know: you are it or not you? Night!
I wanted to beat them with rifle butts until the morning, but at that time spirits began to work out of the ditches for us, and we, the paratroopers, had to take the positions of signalers. Fought until the morning. No loss. In this war, the young, untrained boys were ruled by horror and fear.
That night was the storming of Khankala. He was successful. Khankala was taken in bulk, mass. Therefore, lost a lot of people. Began to carry out stripping. Experience in such events was not enough. They left peaceful, innocent people in the rear with shovels, knots in their hands, which at night turned into machine guns and grenade launchers.
The assault ended in the afternoon. On December 30, our unit went around the taken part of Khankala, the airfield and, as part of the grouping, stopped in front of the military town, which closely adjoined the bridge connecting with the outskirts of Grozny.
We spent the night. At night, with 30 on December 31, the task was to storm the Terrible. Our unit was ordered to: move forward in the column, covering its command with two Beterami - in front and behind. What exactly: how we will storm, from what lines, who opposes us in Grozny, we did not know. When I approached one of the senior officers of the group and asked: "What is our task?" - then he, a colonel in years, looked away and said: "To die." - “Can you clarify what the essence of this problem is - to die?” - “You see, Starley, I really tell you that our task is to die. Because we depict the brunt of the whole group of Russian troops. We must show the enemy that it is from the east that federal troops will take on Grozny. ”
I knew: there are two more directions for strikes - from the north, north-west. The Eastern Column, according to the plan of command, was to enter Grozny, depict a blow, cover the maximum of the territory with available forces and means, move inside Grozny, and then leave the city.
... We passed the military town, and losses began. Because the column was a long snake. No combat cover — securing right and left. Occasionally helicopters flew over us. The column consisted of itself: in front of about five, six tanks, armored personnel carriers, command and staff vehicles, the rest equipment. The column consisted only of divisions of the Ministry of Defense - neither internal troops, nor the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Mostly infantry, artillerymen, tankers. We, reconnaissance paratroopers, in the middle of the column. Closing it, there was a company of paratroopers on the BMD-2.
When approaching the bridge, they began to shoot us from large-caliber machine guns, the militants-snipers clearly worked. Our gaze appeared: the first tank goes over the bridge, and it is fired from about seven or eight directions. In the crosshairs Lucky first tank. Passed Every unit passed through the bridge: whether it was a tank or an infantry fighting vehicle. Human strength is always on the armor, no one was sitting inside. The column went across the bridge, bearing losses. After all, 10-12 people on each armor, can not do without losses. The column lost two batteers, a tank and a Kosheem were blown up. We, the scouts, were more or less successful: only two were wounded. Only a separate company of paratroopers did not pass the bridge, which we learned only later. Communication practically did not work. I had audibility only between my two Beterers and the Ural, and weak, constantly interrupted contact with the column. In connection was a solid mess. For the most part, no one imagined: who speaks with whom. Some callsigns on the air, reports only on the “200th” and “300th” - how many were killed and wounded. The landing party closing the column did not pass. She was cut off and shot - all. As they were told later, Chechens and mercenaries finished off wounded paratroopers with headshots, and our column did not even know about it. Only the ensign and soldiers survived, who with incredible difficulty, with broken legs, crawled behind the military town, from where the column began to move. We crawled, badly wounded. Crawled. One then seemed to die.
We entered Grozny and immediately came under heavy fire - from almost all places, from all tall buildings, from all fortifications. Just entered the city, the column slowed down. Somewhere we were standing, dismounting, not moving. During this hour, we shot down five tanks, six Beteers. The Chechens were buried - one tower is visible - the T-72 tank, which destroyed the entire vanguard of the column. Let's move on. The column, constantly fired upon, bristling like a hedgehog, also shot back. The soldiers dismounted, fled - held positions. They sat down again on the armor, dismounted, fled again. It was impossible to carry out any actions on the buildings occupied by the enemy, as it should be, as we studied in military schools, as our grandfathers did in 1941-1945. The column was a snake walking through the city, leaving behind militants in its rear, destroying only what was destroyed. It was impossible to dismount and conduct reconnaissance actions due to the infinite behavior of motorized infantry. In almost every unit they had a commander somewhere absent, killed or wounded. Units were mainly commanded by sergeants, warrant officers who survived. A soldier-infantryman, I do not want to humiliate motorized infantrymen, jumped off a batteer, pulled the trigger and drove the machine gun until the horn ran out, shooting around him. Then he inserted the horn again and ... The horror of the motorized infantry before the events was so strong that, dismounting, our group of paratroopers, instead of conducting reconnaissance, were forced to lie down. We raised our heads and lowered them again, because the neighboring, attached infantrymen thrashed us again and again. In such a chaos it was just impossible to go. But still, I set myself the task of identifying targets and destroying them. Of course, everything was through the mat, howls, through the beats with butts on the heads of some of the infantrymen. For me it was not the first fighting. And for the main body of soldiers and some officers - the first. We, the paratroopers, were looking for an enemy, destroyed targets, but still had to hide from ours.
I am one of the observers reports that in the house opposite two firing points. I put the task on the nomination. We dismount, we advance to this house competently, as taught. I do not want to boast - the preparation of my people was very strong. It was clearly visible that my paratroopers were really a cut above the rest. They rushed to the wall of the house. Ten meters remained, as the rumble was heard ... I turned around. Behind us, our tank approached, directed the barrel directly to the wall we were near, and fired. The wall began to fall on us. The house was five-story. As much as we could, we left, but received bruises and fractures. One of the soldiers had a helmet flattened out like a wolf from the movie “Well, wait a minute.” Two more received concussions, contusions. We moved. The tank turned and drove on. No consistency. Again, everyone sat on the armor, continued to move. They also revealed the firing points of the Chechens, stopped, began to fire. I was in the second batteer with a group of soldiers. We went deeper into the city for three kilometers.
We knew the new 1995 was coming. In the mind it was recorded as a date, and nothing more. There is a holiday - the New Year, and everything ...
II
The paratrooper officer of reconnaissance units, consisting only of officers and warrant officers, a special forces officer of the “Vityaz” detachment of the internal troops of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of the Russian Federation, a special forces officer group of the “pear” brigade are officers-fighters. These are the people who have been assigned the task, and they carry it out in groups. They have one philosophy ...
I, the commander of a group of soldiers, had a different philosophy. I think about the New Year, about something else - there is no way. In a combat situation, you only think about soldiers subordinate to you. You remember how six months ago you stood on their oath. Before you a number of parents. They give you flowers, whisper in your ear: "Take care of your son." “Save the Soldier” is my philosophy. There is no such thing that you, as commander, are in the epicenter of the action and you fire yourself, without thinking about anything else. You shoot, when you need to help, to target those who cannot reach. Well, soldiers' hands are shaking. Who should be constantly in your field of vision? All 12 people are groups. If someone is missing, you need to stop everything and look for him. And take an infantry unit - there was chaos. ... I already had three wounded. Killed no. We went to some square. Cinema. Open field between houses. And in this space there are concrete slabs dug into the ground. It was here, having begun to incur substantial losses, that the Eastern grouping rushed under the dense fire of the militants. Only one thing sounded on our air: “The two hundredth, two hundredth, two hundredth” ... You drive by motorized riflemen near the airborne troops, and there are only corpses inside them. All killed.
We began to enter the space between the slabs dug into the ground. In the absence of a general guide, all this was reminiscent of a child playing with cars, when a silly child is in chaos ... A tank could crash into our carrier, lead the barrel and pin down my signalman. Seal the soldier, press into the armor. The fighter spat blood from the ears. He is all white. I had to jump on the tank. Under enemy fire, knocking into the hatch, which did not open, and when I got up, I put the machine gun in the hatch. There was a desire to shoot. A certain barrier has already been crossed. A soldier, exhausted by the fighting, got out of the tank. He spread his hands, his trembling lips said: “What I did ... I burned everything. There is no connection! ”In the convoy were T-80 tanks stuffed with electronics. And this electronics was burnt by the inept actions of the crews. No connection, nothing. It was possible to work only on the turn of the tower and on the shooting. The tankman removed the tower. My soldier was still breathing. Removed it from the armor of the batteer. Somehow everyone shoved them off. Took all-round defense. My group covered one third of the square that was girded with concrete slabs. We used hollows. Having taken up the defense, they again began to reveal targets, to destroy them. Gathered their wounded, dead. Engaged in the arrangement. And all under the fire of the Chechens. The desire was not easy to survive, like cattle, huddled somewhere. The main thing was to complete the task and survive. The personnel was dispersed, all were assigned the task. The signalman, pinned down by the barrel of the tank, was laid on the boards. He could not move. I barely breathed. In addition to promedol injections, we could no longer alleviate his suffering. Our ambulances with crews were destroyed by the militants even at the entrance to Grozny. No medical care. Only in the side pocket of the camouflage jacket was a package with promedol, the bandage in the butt of the machine, rewound with a hemostat, was a standard set. And except to put promedol to the wounded man in the thigh or in the arm, we could not do anything. My signalman survived. All night long, one of the soldiers didn’t move away from him, pulled down by a bulletproof vest. They were on duty, not giving up for a second, so that he would not only not die, but in order not to miss this moment. At any time, at least something to help. Than? Absolutely not understood. But the reconnaissance paratrooper was clearly performing the task. Changing, lay next to him and "held" him, listening to the pulse on his neck and arm.
Suddenly, a motorized infantry unit came out in front of us on eight Beterahs and BMP-2. We stopped at the front of about a hundred and fifty meters from us. Under the dense fire of the Chechen militants, soldiers jumped out of the vehicle, ran in our direction. All staff. And, like peas, poured into our trenches. It was a silent pile of demoralized people ... A soldier rushes up, throws a machine gun and dives into your trench like in water. It was almost impossible to disassemble who was the commander of these motorized riflemen who were dazed with fear. Having caught the first soldier, I hardly achieved who is the eldest. He pointed to a man who, having fallen to a concrete slab, threw an automatic rifle, covered his head in a helmet with his hands and sat without stirring. I crawled, asked his rank. He turned out to be a major. He turned to me. I am all camouflage, already with a beard. Looks like a spirit. And he did not understand who is in front of him. But my vest, though dirty, brought him back to consciousness. To the question: "What the x ... did you drop the vehicle and come running here?" - he said: "We were driving. We lost. We can see from a distance, paratroopers ... We abandoned the equipment, ran to you, because no one, except the paratroopers, could escape. All others will shoot! ”. I shout: “And the technology? Equipment! Will burn it! Right now". The man was completely inadequate. Could not command. Just huddled into a corner and shook. To persuade his subordinates to return to the technique was unthinkable. I gave my command - to throw motorized infantry out of the trenches! Maybe it was wrong. Maybe these people had to be saved. But the technique has closed me the whole review. The very next minute she could be burned by the enemy. And then, under the cover of burning BMPs and combat soldiers, the spirits would go with me to a rapprochement — they would attack. As long as there was a clear field in front of me, the Chechens could not approach. And now they had such an opportunity. As far as we could, we threw motorized riflemen from the trenches. It can be said that they fought off them with butts, fists, and threw them over themselves. They clung to us in a stranglehold. Grabbed a weapon. The confrontation could begin ... So the motorized infantry remained in our trenches. Taken some position. I gathered them all on the left flank. Within half an hour, all eight units of motorized infantry armored vehicles were burned by Chechens. Naturally, they came from neighboring houses, strengthened behind this padded equipment. Almost in front of me.
On the front, to the right of a hundred meters, was a Chechen pillbox - something like a brick house, from which continuous fire was fired from a heavy machine gun. It was impossible to raise the head. Our column entered chaotically. Therefore, it was extremely difficult even to find an unused grenade launcher or a flamethrower on my farm. I have set such a task. Found And from time to time they fired grenade launchers at this Chechen pillbox. Kneeling or aiming lying down was very dangerous. After all, the fire on us was carried out not only from the bunkers, but also from those of the burned-down Beteers and the BMP. We were deprived of the opportunity to conduct aimed fire. I had to crawl out of hiding places, crawl up to the little knolls, so that, fleeing behind them, at least somehow, lying or from the side, firing, to destroy the Chechen machine-gunner, entrenched in DotA, or rather in the dugout — very, very small, which was overly difficult . To my right lay my deputy, like me, a senior lieutenant. I remember ... I heard a voice from behind: "Commander, I crawled!". I turn around. An infantry fighter from those who leaped into our trenches like frogs is lying. Shouts: “I am ready to destroy him!” - “What?” - I say. He had a Bumblebee flamethrower. Lying and shaking lips says: "Only I can not aim." I shout: “How can you not ?!”. In response: “All is ripped off. There is only a pipe. Sights were shot down. In appearance, the flamethrower was in working condition. I gave the command: “Crawl to my deputy. - He was in a better position. “Shoot down!” To my surprise, he crawled. I was in 5-7 meters. The rifleman, despite the enemy fire, crawled. I explained everything quite clearly to him: “... You shoot either lying down or slightly kneeling”. He got up on his knee. I lay there and saw that he was pointing at the target through the flamethrower pipe, as was agreed. But I look from the side and see how he, taking aim, suddenly lowers the Bumblebee down, straight ahead. I still managed to shout to my deputy: “Close your ears! Roll back! It was a fight. He did not hear. I remember, for the first time in my life I was raised above the ground. I flew to the right. He bumped his head in a helmet into a concrete wall and fell into someone's shit. In the eyes of an asterisk, a red veil. Then the world around us took some shape. There was a funnel in that place. The soldier was lying with a bloody hand - insane, wounded. My deputy was bleeding from the ears. He was completely contused. Still experiencing contusion pain, fighting in a dream. With this shot the officer was incapacitated. Now he is on staff activity.
My intelligence sergeant crawled up. He asked me for permission to fire a grenade launcher, got down on his knee, brought a grenade launcher at the target under the fire of the Chechens and, handsome, hit the dota embrasure. Blew it like a house of cards. At this time, about twenty or twenty-five militants in camouflage white coats came at us from the Chechen positions, from the burned-down infantry forces and the BMP. They went, like the Germans, in a psychic attack. Before us, they had about fifty meters. There were rushes. When the pillbox was destroyed, they were in an open field without cover. The fire we focused only on them. Eighty percent of the advancing Chechens were exterminated. Out, who had ... Bright, red flashes, torn bathrobes, screams, screams ...
Darkness has fallen. On the New Year, when they remembered him, tankers crawled to us, brought alcohol. Spilled. They say ... According to the connection they went Chechens. On their tank wave, they said: “Well, Ivan, mark the New Year ten minutes. And then on a new one ... ”At ten minutes past twelve 31 December 1994, up to five minutes on January 1, 1995 was a respite. Overthrown a little alcohol. After this, a massive mortar attack began. From another type of weapon you can hide. From falling mines - no. It remained to rely on fate.
The shelling lasted two hours. Fully demoralized, we still held our ground. Chechens could not get through to us, even scattering mines. We brought all the equipment on a direct lead. And she shot in the directions, without goals. Two hours of such confrontation! Mortars ceased firing. Come shootout. Apparently, there was a regrouping of Chechen forces and equipment. Our and Chechen snipers began to work. So until the morning.
III
From Grozny, we again left the column. They went snake. I do not know where, what was the command. No one set the task. We just circled around the Terrible. Strike - there, there. And we were fired. The column acted as if in separate flashes. The column could shoot at some kind of passenger car, traveling three hundred meters from us. Nobody, by the way, could get into this car - people were so overworked.
And then the column began to roll, go. The infantry came out lumpy, chaotic. On this day we paratroopers did not receive any task. But I understood that nobody except motorized rifles would cover. All the others were simply not able to. Some of my people were loading, another was shooting in the directions - covering the waste. We went out last.
When they left the city and again passed this damned bridge, the column rose. I have a machine from the dirt, crowded in the shops with ammunition, jammed. And then the voice: "Take mine." I lowered my eyes to the open hatch of the batteer - there was a seriously wounded ensign, my friend. As far as he could, he handed me a machine gun. I took it and put it inside the hatch. The next shelling of our units from several directions began. We sat huddled against the armor, shot as best we could ... A bleeding warrant officer filled the empty stores with ammunition and handed them to me. I gave orders, shot. The ensign remained in the ranks. He was white from a great loss of blood, but he still filled the shops and kept whispering: “We’ll go out, we’ll go out anyway” ... At this point, so did not want to die. It seemed a few hundred meters, and we would break out of this fiery cauldron, but the column stood like a long, large target, which was shredded into pieces by bullets and shells of Chechen guns.
We left 1 on January. There was some chaotic collection of desperate people. For all to gather at the gathering place, this was not. We walked, wandered. Then still set the task. They began to collect the wounded. Quickly deployed a field hospital.
Before my eyes, some kind of Beteer escaped from the environment. Just broke out and raced in the direction of our column. Unmarked. Without anything. He was shot by our tankmen point-blank. Somewhere meters from a hundred, one hundred and fifty. Our our own shot. Apart. Three tanks smashed beteer.
There were so many corpses and wounded that the doctors of the developed field hospital for organ-preserving actions had neither the strength nor the time!
My paratroopers, who had a shard in their thigh, who in the ass, who in their hand, did not want to go to the hospital. Bring them, leave. Five minutes later they were again in the unit, again in the ranks. “I,” says, “will not go back. They cut the only way! Take out everything! Blood, pus everywhere. Where without anesthesia, where how ... ".
Send the calculations. A lot of people remained there, in Grozny, many were thrown on the battlefield. I brought all of my own, as well as some of the infantrymen whom I managed. Rest? A lot of people were thrown. The eastern column suffered and this ...
I did not give my wounded. The choice was: either to wait until the evening of a pinwheel - should have come. Either the convoy departed with the dead and some of the wounded in the trucks. Realizing that there were militants in the rear, I did not give the wounded, but waited for the helicopter. Although heavy were ...
And so it happened. The first column with the wounded near Argun was completely destroyed. Shot by militants. In the evening, turntables flew in, loaded the wounded, killed, and accompanying people. And they left ... My slightly wounded refused to evacuate, remained in the unit. Our combined group of officers and soldiers was practically not operational: two dead, three seriously wounded, the rest were shell-shocked, slightly wounded.
The group, as it could, was dug in, representing a small mix of people. As they said later, in Grozny, the Eastern Column lost about sixty percent of the personnel only killed.
Fired already not much, but for a long time. We went another few kilometers. 3 On January 1995, by special communication, I was ordered to return the group to Tolstoy Yurt for replacement. There we were waiting for other units of our unit.
IV
When we went to Mozdok, the unhurt officers were assigned to accompany the ten recently killed officers and soldiers from one of our company’s mouths. We flew to Rostov-on-Don. There, in the future Center of the dead, just put the first tent.
We fly. The bodies in foil are wrapped, lying on stretchers. Then I had to find my own. Identify. Some of those killed had been in tents for several days. The soldiers assigned to the treatment of bodies, sat on vodka. Otherwise, go crazy. The officers sometimes could not stand. Healthy-looking men fainted. They asked: “Go! Identify mine. ”
This was not my first war. I went into the tent, identified. I accompanied the ensign of our unit. Decent person. From his left only the head and body. Hands, legs were torn off. It was necessary not to move away from him, so that no one confused ... I recognized, and the soldiers refused to wear my ensign. According to our landing practice, the deceased should be dressed to the vest ... Well, all that is necessary: cowards, camouflage ... Takes must be on top of the coffin. The soldiers refused to wear a torn body. I had to take a stick and make people. I put them on with them ... What was left ... We dressed them anyway. Laid in a coffin. I did not leave him for a long time, so as not to be confused. After all, I was bringing my relatives - a son, a warrior.
And the soldier-signalman, who was crushed by the barrel of the tank — he was presented to the medal “For Courage” —and was not awarded. Because in the headquarters of the group they wrote to him that the injury was not received as a result of hostilities. Such bureaucratic, unclean squiggles. This is the flip side of the war. As the problem of property written off to the war. It is also the millions of money that have not reached Chechnya, which have turned or stuck in Moscow. The downside of the war is on the conscience of those who sit in jackets and ties, and not those who fight.
It's a shame that you have been taught in military school for years, then you taught with fanaticism "science to win" the personnel of your company, believed in the invincibility of our tactics of fighting, in the methods of survival imparted to us in special classes, served, was proud of your kind troops - and all in vain. In this war, we were simply made meat. As the song says: "... Do not make meat from us, and then look for the guilty. It is important for us that the order be clearly heard and that the soldiers do not doubt. ”
All of us, from private to general, have executed the orders given to us. The Eastern grouping solved the problem, having corrected all the rules (written in blood) of combat in the city. She portrayed a powerful and awkward blow of the federal forces, quickly entered Grozny, held as best she could and, torn to pieces, crushed, also quickly left the city. And somewhere very close at the same time, another group was dying, a smaller number - the Maikop Brigade, which entered the city from a different direction.
And the top commanders - graduates of academies? They knew how to fight. They knew that the city was taken from house to house, from piece to piece. Every penny is won. So they took Berlin. In Grozny, most likely, there was a tough order from above - focused only on the time interval. Say, it is necessary to take it tomorrow, another day after tomorrow. Do not move, hold on. Take it. The rigid statement of tasks from above put the command people in the limits unallowed for war. What is the time factor? This town must be taken by five o'clock! And according to the entire logic of hostilities, this order is impossible to execute. For the appointed time, one could only prepare, concentrate funds, conduct reconnaissance, clarify the task, assess the situation, set the task, issue combat orders, improve the coordination of subunits, radio communications, radio exchanges, clarify the dynamics of the event, determine the ways of escape ... Terrible time was not given. Today, so far no one recognizes this as a crime ... But a man in large epaulets went to the crime - against his conscience, against his morality, ruining the lives of soldiers and officers. Madness What was this command? What is the management of the operation?
And if we talk about infantry ... A soldier approached me in Mozdok, and seeing three lieutenant stars on my shoulder straps, asked how I could connect the magazine to the machine gun? From this case, we can draw serious conclusions. And generally do not say anything more. A soldier does not approach his commander, but, seeing a paratrooper officer, asks how to connect: one way or the other?
At the time of the outbreak of hostilities in Chechnya, the army was already degraded. The soldiers had not only theoretical, practical skills. Most did not have the skills of mechanical actions, when a soldier assembles and disassembles a machine gun with eyes closed, knows how to perform elementary exercises. For example, production for shooting prone ... He should not even think - how? Everything must be done mechanically. And he has ... chaotic, ill-considered actions that I saw and experienced during the New Year's storming of Grozny. Terrible, some half-crazy movements of motorized infantry, and in the hands of weapons, spewing lead, which killed their own soldiers ...
Regarding our paratroopers, today we are going to the Airborne Forces Day, August 2. Soldiers are coming, thank you. "For what?" - I ask. “Thank you for the fact that at two o'clock in the morning we crawled on the asphalt, because we didn’t walk along the roads like others, but crawled through streams, fell into the mud, ran several dozen kilometers. Thanks for that. Then, before the war, we hated you. Fiercely hated. Clenched fists in the ranks. Were ready ... Were you happy - if something bad happened to you. And when they left Grozny and almost all survived, they said “thank you”.
I remembered their bloodied, matured faces in a few days of fighting. Yes, gray-haired, angry, contused, wounded, but alive then, in 1995, the reconnaissance paratroopers said to me: “Thank you.” And I was happy that they are alive.
Call now ... ".
The severity of the memories did not lower the paratrooper officer to the bottom of life. Having passed the first Chechen campaign, drawing personal conclusions from it, he again fights with the spirits, destroys the mercenaries in the mountains. He does what he does well. Ichkerian fighters promise a lot of money for his head, but mother prayers keep this Russian soldier, who still believes in justice and ... in military training, without which the army is not an army, but a meeting of people condemned to death.
One of the many thousands of officers thanks to whom Russia did not perish, he is inconspicuous in the crowd, in the Moscow subway. And this is his advantage. Without demanding anything from the Fatherland, confessing the thought: “Who signed on,” this officer is for responsibility, for the ability of the state to ask those who are authorized to make strategic decisions. Neither the state, nor the friends, nor the betrothed, he will not ask for love. But - will require it for those who died for Russia.
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