Who are we? Keeping the regiment. 91 year
It happened under the tacit agreement of the mass of the lower classes and the rapid repainting of the tops. Probably, great states always collapsed like that or as empires say now.
And only some organisms of the non-existent system continued to function, fulfilling there, at the bottom of the hierarchy, the functions that were assigned to them, by the state and state that no longer existed.
The tops have already been rebuilt, have already sworn allegiance, turning their dark affairs under the guise of confusion, while doing everything that, under plausible excuses care about .... stay with the "trough" of power or at least with his position. Well, well, this is all humanly, if not for one big BUT. Why everything was done through the well-known to all with the rear opening. Why so rude to people? After all, they all, the tops, so often spoke with pride - "We are from the people, from sakhi"
Such a mechanism, or more precisely a living organism, was and no longer the Soviet Army. About her and the story goes!
31.10 91. became deputy battalion commander. Tank battalion 405 motorized rifle regiment (Akhaltsikhe) 147 MSD (Akhalkalaki) In the morning divorce, I am acting commander of a tank battalion. "Rulim" for a couple with the deputy battalion potech - Fedorych. I am young and young in age and ex officio - not long ago I was a company officer in the same battalion. Fedorych is much older than all of us. Respect
Combat not yet appointed and story drags on. I, I can not, or rather do not want to go to meetings in the regiment, by agreement Fedorych goes there, brings me to, and I am already in charge of the battalion.
The commander of the regiment is leaving Excellent Man, such would be more, it seems the former Marine, under two meters tall. His last name is interesting, Bozhevolny Vladimir Ilyich, we are in the battalion, kindly called the “storyteller” because of his habit of leaning the back of the arm-paw to his mouth and so quietly telling tales to the whole regiment with his velvet bass.
Songs, he played the guitar, when the officers of the regiment were going to sing like Vysotsky, but without any strain, and so solidly with dignity. I still remember his "Lord, Junker, who you were yesterday ...". He, however, and the first "blessed" me to marry, and offered the wedding to play in the regiment. - Thank you, but my wife and I answered at home! Not comfortable in front of parents ...
We then went to the division into men and men. The man was taller. It seems that he invented it, toli Pashka Ivanov the platoon in 1tr, toli Valerka Khlypalo, the commander of 2 tr.
The soldiers in the regiment began, first quietly, and then in "bundles" to flee to their states. Among the officers, too, ferment in the minds began - so to say, conversations in the setters. Only in our battalion this did not happen.
The battalion was friendly and there served the Men. And of course we constantly talked with soldiers and sergeants. The argument was simple and strong in its simplicity. Run away without documents and without an order of dismissal in the new state there will still be an army, and everyone who has not served will be called there ... So, it is better to suffer - until the fall of 1991, and to whom and before the spring of 92. And leave with a clear conscience, and of documents.
We stopped paying the money allowance, or as they call it pay. We ate, they made ends meet. I rent an apartment from an Armenian in a house where mostly Georgians live. It seems not to touch.
The lights are turned on only in the evenings and then less and less. Heating is not included in the apartment oak. All put wood stoves. Imagine in the MKD and in the apartments from the windows stick pipes. He brought a stove, and where to get firewood, a problem in the mountains, a large one. I feel sorry for my wife, she is in a position. Prepares at night, a simple female feat or the proportion of officer wives.
Instead of pay, the commander ordered to issue the DK at his own risk. Thank ! Bring home a lamb carcass and something else. But it is well remembered lamb. Holiday in the family.
The barracks are relatively warm, the regiment has its own boiler room, but less and less heat.
Morning, regimental parade. On the construction of the regiment, the commander suddenly stops speaking and looks over the heads and screams
“What is he doing, whose watch is there, battalion commander ...”
We turn around and see how the sentry at the post, the “NZ” weapons and ammunition depots, approaches the gate near which there is a civilian. Civilian, gets something from his bosom and shoots- shots, shots, shots.
The commander from powerlessness yells
–SVDe to me, but this is not a quick matter.
Armor group is flying, from the scouts on the board - strengthening of the guard. In a straight line two hundred meters but in the mountains on the road many times more. While we drove along the serpentine. All ... Eight bullets, all struck the old "Afghan body armor."
The soldier wanted to light up!? Cigarette lay next.
The corpse on the parade ground. The commander tells about the charter and what is forbidden to the sentry at the post. The soldiers in the column one by one pass by the dead. In the brain sounds the phrase familiar from the times of cadets "the charter is written in blood." Cynical, but there were no more corpses, and therefore it was effective.
The killer was taken away in the white Zhiguli. These white Lada, the sixth model, did not bring us and our neighbors with the 10 division, rest day or night .... But more than their attempts to foul up were in vain.
All the commander is gone. Goodbye comrade lieutenant colonel!
The new Lieutenant Colonel Kochug is a Moldovan. Let's see when he was the chief of staff of the regiment "quarreled" because of the orders. Our battalion, then on guard, then in the outfit. We slept off the night and were back on track. There are almost no soldiers in other battalions, which is why almost all of them are in our battalion and in the generals from the entire regiment. We are the same every other day on the belt. Plus duty in tanks in the armored group and officers, in addition to guards and detachments for the regiment, at night, guard the sleep of soldiers. On free nights, there is a daily check of guards and posts. but you could sleep until 10 am.
I remember as a dream; night, barracks winter, automatic, window. Watching the terrain, tomorrow the soldiers in the guard, today only changed - guarding their sleep. The wife sleeps in the storehouse, on the table. I'm afraid to leave the house alone, and it's cold. Then we drove the wives to each other. Sometimes they slept in one room with several families, especially when all the men went into the night.
Then, to Vovka Krasnov - the SPNSH of our battalion, his house was behind the fence of the regiment, next to the officers' hostel - flowed down to 5,6 families and someone who was not standing in the outfit of the little women. Be sure to ask weapon the commander, a pistol and a machine gun. The men stacked at the entrance and the windows, the girls had grenades, but in tihorya.
Georgians nerves constantly rattled, did not give to relax. To us, then the next division. So small provocations, for the "big" uncles in the headquarters.
The order of the commander of the officers to surrender their weapons, we have peace! And, no longer issue.
In the regiment indignation. Why do not trust. Maybe in the guards will not give? We have a wife. We live in the city, not only in the military town. At the end of the day, this is the officers' "personal" weapon! Weapon, surrender!
Coming from lunch to the regiment, climbing the path between private houses is slippery, very. Such a snowy winter, a rarity in these places. ... Akhaltsikhe, after serving in Akhalkalaki - a little Siberian in Georgia, is a blessed place, or just a paradise. Near Borjomi, Abastumani, where else Russian princes were treated. But all this was not for us ...
Here is the fence and the “breach” behind him Volodya Krasnov’s house and the officer’s hostel, a little further the fence and the headquarters of the regiment. Near the first break are two Georgian jerks 15-16 and. ABOUT! fucking, in the grenade the antennae are unclenched, "throwers", the children are still, movements are not skillful. I squeeze one finger. They yell, beat, skirmish, fall downhill all the way to the road. I jump, yell at the boys like - Are you tired of living?
On the street, local youth runs a lot, with sticks and iron rods.
Awareness - hit, how many of them!
Hope, disappears from the first swing of the runner! Thought beat one until you fall. Then next, next. Dodge and the next. In the back a wild pain, one more, blood splatters, fell. Beat the next, the faces are replaced by wild rhythm. Face, nose, blood, backache, lizh-not to fall, face, blow, blood, care, face, blow crash.
-Nikolaich stand, Nikolaitch stand. Stop telling you. Someone is holding me. Volodya Krasnov.
Awareness.
Runaway youth and our officers, with dorm. Thank you, time. A messenger takes you to the commander. I go to the office.
-Comrade Colonel Art. lieutenant…
-What happened. Reporting.
- Are you okay.
-Yes!?
-Ah why the whole jumpsuit in the blood?
I looked as though the kombez was soaked in blood. There is only one scratch on the face. See, just touched.
- Go home.
-No, I need a battalion.
- Go home and clean up. Wait, you go by my car.
Cool on the UAZ Cap to the entrance. Yes, with security. I go home, that I lie to my wife about the blood in the winter combination. Begin to undress - a wild pain. Wife helps to undress. Tailored telly.
-Oh what's your back. The back is a solid bloody bruise ... Yes, good, peaceful population, so hooligans ...
I spent a week at home. Cold, but slept off. And again, outfits, duty, guards, armored groups. In the regiment of the booze, give the weapon! Not. All the same, they gave the officers who live outside the garrison and one at a time, or something. Someone snapped at cap. Order to hand over weapons. Passed. Personally reported on the surrender of personal weapons officers - for the battalion.
Buzili, until the night. Here is another gang going ... how so? At night, came home. Wife suffering from toxemia. Coldly . Oven, melted, the wife at the helm, so that was. We slept in sweaters, under two blankets, and on top were a greatcoat and a combo.
Whistle, bah, baba ... One big bang. The windows flew out. Flew off the bed, standing at the window. I see in the distance in the area of the regiment explosions. Pts, gang. There is a fight. I can clearly hear the fight, there is shooting. Here are machine guns, here are the lines of automatic weapons. What to do, Already dressed. Bach tank guns. Wife pressed against the wall.
-Oleg, what is it?
- Learning, Svetik, I forgot to warn. Lie that came to mind. What to do is no weapon, how to break through. And, and s-ki even took the Pukalka. Grab a grenade. According to the law of the genre they will come after me now. In the entrance quietly!
-Svetochka, I have to go, I'll be back.
- And I ? What to do, pregnant wife can not run. Shooting. The regiment is fighting. The fight is real. I, Io Kombat. Which officer broke through? probably in the town of many laid. Soldiers shoot back. Well done. Thought like lightning.
-Svetochka, here's a grenade for you, standing here if that throw in the corridor to the door. The main thing because of the walls do not hang out.
-And then. Then come, me! Kisses. Thought I betrayed her! Do not save!
-Goodbye.
I fly out to the entrance. Output. On the street a lot of bedzhorikov. Unclenched mustache on grenades. One in hand, the other in the other. Teeth squeezed ring. I fly out, screaming wildly and foul through my teeth. Local to the side. Run, broke through. I'm running.
Towards the messenger takes off.
- Stay down. What did you find in the regiment here?
“I don’t know, I’m following you, Posil.” Uzbek soldier.
We run. Local, stare in the direction of the regiment. They behave strangely. Not brazenly, no one follows us, they do not stop, they do not shoot. They have fear and surprise in their eyes, but not a threat. Yes, what happens.
Regiment, headquarters. I report - Fedoritch.
- Ours in the park are preparing equipment, turn on the tanks.
Awareness .
There is no battle in the regiment. And I am one of the first. Regimental warehouses that continue to explode have been blown up. Shells fly, there are no victims.
Thank God it is not a fight. After having survived the explosion of the warehouses - baby talk, Hochma, so toys ...
I get the task from the regimental commander. I fly to the battalion, near something falls, flops, whistles. A battalion, a soldier that is not in the park, I am arming, I am sending part of it to reinforce the regimental headquarters, the rest of them by combat crew. The soldiers notice confidence in their eyes. I order, focus on the other side of the battalion, safe from the flight of blanks. I run out, along with the soldiers towards the headquarters. We run rushes. Night, bang, splash, booms. We ran. It's okay Gave a soldier.
- Bl-y, where are my officers.
- Where are the officers?
-They are in the park, comrade senior lieutenant.
-How ?
-Yes exactly ! There Ivanov, Khlypalo, Shevchenko, Fedin.
-Fine.
The commander sets the task of the tanks not to withdraw, only to strengthen the armor group. Busy defense around the regiment. Yes, she is already busy. Well, for the order, or something. Warehouses exploded, but this is not the worst. There is no fight, and this is good.
Battalion officers gathered. Everything; platoon, company, battalion control. There is no only political officer. Sent for their wives. Valery Khlypalo, with two armed soldiers, left Sveta. During the night, all the wives and children were gathered from Volodya. Closely. But warm and safe.
All night long they ran, kept watch, drove out tanks, put in place those not involved. It is light! The whole territory of the regiment was littered with fragments of shells, grenades, another iron and one very large and terrible. Lying and solid shells from 125 mlm tank guns. These were the shells of the NZ of our battalion ...
Morning has come!
It was here that we found out who was ready for what and who was worth something. I’ll just say that, for example, our deputy politician never came, he appeared in the morning for a divorce. He was not alone. But there were very few of them in our regiment.
The feat was made by those who fled from the “town-XNUMH houses”. They ran past the warehouses, which, by the way, exploded until the morning. And everyone made a decision for himself. And everyone thought something like me. The regiment is fighting! And those who came running later, but came running, felt no dexterity.
And those who did not come, shamelessly looked into the eyes and told us what kind of fools we were ...
And, the locals were frightened even more by our non-fighters. They are poor fellows, they thought that the Turks entered the city. Ah, Georgians have genes, fear of the Turks. And they prayed then, only on us and for us. While they did not know what it was.
By the way, our two ensigns of Georgians appeared only a few days later.
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