The life of Igor Vyacheslavovich is the way of the Russian warrior. The length of this short journey is 30 years and one month. Kirsanov was born 16 November 1965, in Ivanovo, died 16 December 1995 th.
From the very childhood I was seriously engaged in sports - wrestling, and already from the age of twelve - karate. After graduating from the middle Ivanovo school, he was serving in the Airborne Forces, then - the legendary Ryazan Airborne School. For the army prepared himself consciously.
Before being transferred to the special forces of the internal troops of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Russia, Igor Kirsanov served in the Far East, in the 83-th separate parachute brigade. There we met. I lived in Ussuriisk, I studied at the history department at the pedagogical institute, I was engaged in pre-conscription training, I created the military-sports club “Desant”. I learned from the officers that Igor Kirsanov, an expert in his field, who will be able to train students in the club, serves in the brigade.
In the airborne brigade's gymnasium in front of a mirror placed on the cement floor (the building was being renovated), a paratrooper officer dressed in a field uniform worked out a side kick. He interrupted the workout, turned to me. Clear and expressive features. High nose with a crook, strong-willed strong chin. Black mustache gave the face a brave hussar look. His gaze seemed stern and kind at the same time. Immediately there was a spiritual disposition to this man.
We met. He invited for tea in the gym closet.
“Will you drive up tomorrow?”
“I can,” answered Kirsanov.
Began training at the club.
Powerful load distributed very reasonably. It was felt that Kirsanov had great coaching experience and talent. He was stingy with words. Short phrases. Clear commands.
- Emphasize lying down! Wrung out twenty times!
Work out a direct punch.
“The hand goes like a train on rails — it doesn’t dangle, it doesn’t go up and down, the fist is a continuation of the hand, it turns and“ twists ”into the enemy” - Kirsanov slowly shows how the hands should move.
Then quickly - his movements are now barely noticeable. The clapping sound of cotton camouflage during strikes. Kirsanov mastered the toughest style of karate in his native Ivanovo at the school of the famous master Tadeush Kasyanov. “I kept the blow well,” Igor said later, “in the school cupboard I stood up for the girl, I was in the sixth grade at the time, I was punched by a kid-tenth-grader,” I could not resist anything.
When Igor could not go to the club, we ourselves were selected in the brigade. In hot August there were trainings under the blue sky and the burning sun in the airborne sports camp. Sweat burned eyes, dripped on black and gray slag.
Once upon a time there was no city bus. They decided to go to the training session by running. Kilometers seven in all, but the sun burned.
- Well done! - Kirsanov was clearly pleased with our zeal.
Of course, we expected that the load today will be slightly less. It turned out the opposite - much more. “Was it worth running?” - spinning in my head. Not once convinced - it was worth it.
The "Desant" club in Ussuriysk began to work in August 1992. But the festive opening was held only in October. In the morning we met with Igor, as agreed, in the brigade. He took in armory there are two automatic machines in the room. We are waiting for the car.
“Let me do some shooting,” a red-haired curly-headed oshchik who served as an ensign approached. Pretty arrogant guy, constantly looking for adventure. Apparently, he was not given peace by the even confidence and authority of Kirsanov. The rider from another battalion, so he behaved relaxed. Especially since he served under the contract, and not by vocation. Curly reached out with his hand to the AKS, which hung down the trunk on Igor's right shoulder, clearly provoking sharp movements or words. There was a conflict situation. However, Kirsanov reacted quite calmly and miserably. As if he was addressing an annoying kid - silently and calmly he pushed the curly-headed hand away and headed for the approached brigade URAL.
Somehow, resting after another workout at the club, Igor was talking about a new recruitment. And then suddenly he suggested that I go with the young soldiers to serve a couple of weeks in the Airborne Forces.
A few days later, having agreed with the command, I was already in the brigade in the platoon of Senior Lieutenant Kirsanov. They put it on the allowance, in the barracks received uniforms.
... Shorn young soldiers of the Airborne Forces get their food in the canteen. This food does not smell very appetizing, but I want to eat scary. The eyes of the soldiers are sad. Now one task - to eat fast. The duty officer, the platoon commander, Senior Lieutenant Kirsanov watches as the distribution of food passes.
“Put on a little more,” commands when the turn of the small and skinny young paratrooper Molochnikov arrives. He, like the rest of the soldiers standing with him, is an ordinary ninth company of young soldiers.
“A young soldier, in a newcomer in a beret, a private company,” - thundering with heavy winter boots with felt top, paratroopers from another company approached with a song.
- Stand up, build on the exit! - yell sergeants. And the soldiers, some, before they finish, jump up from the tables.
On the street - minus thirty. The wind is icy. Laying the domes on the parade ground. Each paratrooper jumps with his dome, that is, with the parachute that he was putting himself.
Domes and lines are stretched on tables - so-called canvas flooring. Work in twos. Bare hands are frozen in the January wind. Epiphany frosts in Primorye are almost always strong. Over thirty. Soldiers unaccustomed to the wet and icy seaside January are not easy.
... Brought in the evening after jumping the domes, crumpled in canvas parachute bags. Soldiers approach KAMAZ, Kirsanov cheerfully loads two domes on them. I silently loaded three. Under the stars of the seaside sky, the paratroopers of the dome drag over the crisp snow to the place of their storage.
“A paratrooper cannot shoot badly,” Kirsanov conducts a briefing with his platoon. After these words of the commander, the paratrooper takes a machine gun with frozen but firm hands. From cover she takes aim at a growth target appearing two hundred meters away. He feels confident that he will hit the target. Short line - the target falls.
Kirsanych shows us how to prepare for firing from a grenade launcher. So cleverly he succeeds. The grenade launcher instantly uncovers, whipping the leg, falls to the knee, in the fall throws up the weapon on the shoulder. Painstakingly teaches us. Shooting while lying down, from the knee. Every movement, every inhalation and exhalation is worked out and prescribed.
“In Poland, when the brigade was standing,” said Igor, sitting on a soldier's stool in the office of the military-sports club “Landing”, “constantly brought a goat from the shooting. Goats wild there ran a lot. Always managed to hunt.
- How was the service there in Poland? - I ask Kirsanov.
- They were engaged in business there. Tactics, fire. Ran, shot. This is the economic work ...
The super soldier foreman nicknamed "Monster" also served in Poland. He was then private in the platoon of Igor Kirsanov.
Monster in spirit and in appearance - a real paratrooper. Quick, agile, desperately brave. The cap is dembelski on the back of the head, the top button on the jacket in any frost is unbuttoned so that the telnik shines. The face is always fun.
“You, paratroopers, should like those Musketeers — one for all and all for one,” he brought up one evening in a building.
“The Monster is a tough warrior,” I began talking about him, remembering.
- Yes, cool. And in Poland I was somehow standing in front of me after the end of the day and was crying - such was his service difficult. And now, you see, - he remained in the Airborne Forces, he brings up fighters himself.
... Igor was telling about his cadets. Marsh throws were - a few days on foot and jogging with full display. During the day, it happened, almost 120 kilometers passed. kirsanov cadet.jpg The hardest thing after a halt is to rise - the legs begin to depart, swell from the load, and here - the rise.
Overnight in the forest. Usually in a large army tent with a stove, but they were forced to spend the night in the tents. Chum - in fact, a hut of branches, inside the fire.
“A sullen platoon of cadets is walking by,” says Igor, “where are you guys?” - In Chu-mind, - Kirsanov says this, probably, as gloomy as those cadets of the Ryazan Airborne School.
Igor is well remembered as one of the best in the Ryazan Airborne School. Yes, and in the airborne brigade, he, just like at the school, always occupied first places in hand-to-hand combat competitions.
Igor Kirsanov felt like a completely mature independent person, despite the fact that at that time he turned just 27 years old.
Somehow, my mother asked him, they say, you are eager to fight everything, and if anything happens to you, how are your parents?
“I’ve already cut the hunk,” said Igor.
... In the brigade in the Far East, Igor was bored. Lacked this big deal. Passed a tough competition and transferred to a new part of the special forces of the internal troops near St. Petersburg.
The point there really appeared. The warriors of the 33 th separate brigade of operational designation of the internal troops of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Russia regularly went on missions to Chechnya.
In the special forces brigade, Senior Lieutenant Kirsanov is promoted to captain and maroon beret. Ten-kilometer obstacle course, then a long battle with changing rested opponents. Thirst, fatigue, sweat and blood. Those who have passed the test when putting on the maroon beret, swaying and limping, hardly broke down to get this shrine. Captain Kirsanov, overcoming the pain, came out with a clear line drill, with the dignity of a real Russian officer.
November 16 1995, Igor, is thirty years old. In St. Petersburg on Prospect Testers celebrated his birthday. And in December, Igor went on a business trip. Spetsnaz was supposed to provide security during the elections to the State Duma in the Gudermes area. On the eve of election day, gunmen seized the city. To the aid of those who were surrounded there, our column was sent. The column came under fire. Kirsanov with his fighters on two armored personnel carriers managed to enter the city and break into the commandant's building. The city, contrary to reports, was stuffed with armed bandits. Our fighters found themselves in a tight enemy ring under constant fire.
... The gray December air of Gudermes. Embossed windows, flaky and chipped walls. The smell of gunpowder, cold dust and dampness of the old building of the commandant's office.
Crazy faces of bearded people are poorly distinguishable through the scope. Sometimes there are silhouettes in the house opposite.
“From there, they fire at us,” the special forces reconnaissance trooper leads an amateur video camera at the yellowish-gray building. The fire is continuous. Round the clock. In a tight enemy ring. Former Soviet atheists, loafers-gangsters infected with some pseudo-religious "teaching" - Wahhabism.
Gudermes was captured by a gang of the latter-day Wahhabi Salman Raduyev. Before the war he grew up in the same place, he was a skinny and notorious teenager. Then he became a plasterer and a merchant. Studying at school, led an atheistic circle. He achieved regional heights in his Komsomol career. Later he built in, as it seemed, into a more profitable international anti-Russian project - he became a Wahhabi and a separatist.
... For three days the special forces were kept surrounded in the building of the commandant's office. Our wounded died from lack of proper medical care. There was almost no water. Scanty food was cooked right on fires, divorced from broken furniture in broken rooms. Captain Kirsanov organized the entire defense of the commandant's office.
Militants were ten times more. Our fighters tried to get in touch - no one answered them. Looks like they just left them ...
None of the special forces had the slightest shadow of fear or gloom on their face. Rather, some kind of cheeky gaiety.
“Commander, a few words for the press,” smiles the special forces soldier with a video camera. He intends to "interview" Kirsanov, who calmly stood at the window opening with a gun.
“No words, only emotions,” Kirsanov replies with some indignation and slight surprise that we will have to beat all this Wahhabi bastard without any support from ours. Throwing this phrase, Igor continued to shoot single in the figures of militants, appearing in the openings of the building opposite.
The commandos not only prevented the enemy from approaching, confidently repelling his attacks. From time to time, our fighters would make daring raids on the surviving armored personnel carrier in the enemy's den.
After three days of defense and much thought, Kirsanov makes the most important decision in his life. Remove the soldiers from the environment. With several fighters he goes on reconnaissance to find a passage in the ring. And then with one throw to take out the wounded soldiers on the armored car.
“My grandfather was a priest in Myshkin, which is on the Volga,” Vyacheslav Vitalyevich, Igor's father, once shared ...
Kirsanov ran into an ambush and was caught in crossfire. Many fatal bullet wounds. December 16 1995 th ...
Militants cut eyes to captain Kirsanov, shoot off their hands. Probably, they were afraid even of the dead Russian soldier.
The old Chechen man found and hid the body of Igor, threw branches. When Gudermes was taken, the old man showed this place.
A few days later the city was liberated. Many of those who were in the building of the commandant’s office survived. Thanks Kirsanov.