Voenkor Owl on patients with carelessness and the recipe for Victory
During the years of the war in Novorossia, many remarkable war correspondents appeared, through whose eyes we see what is happening there as a chronicle of warning, like the fact that in the event of the defeat of the Russians in the Donbas, it can become the future of the entire Russian Federation. One of the most famous and beloved by the people of the military leaders is Sova, Anastasia, who is able to shoot reports that cause the audience the “presence effect”. Like all gifted people, the highest joy comes from impeccable work. And it can work in the most extreme conditions - risking in exploration to be cut off by a sniper's bullet and at the forefront under the heavy fire of the MLRS. The combination of mind and beauty, talent and courage, adventure and sacrifice is an exceptional phenomenon, before which even the muses bow their heads humbly. But, that for others is unrepresentable and unattainable - for her the norm. That is how her style should be formulated - the rule of exclusiveness. Anastasia's motto: Stirb und werde! How she - the winner of the beauty contest, not the last in the modeling business, successful in all respects, the businesswoman turned out to be at war and why did she become a military leader?
Stirb und werde!
“This war is not the first for me, but such an attack — when literally every meter is plowed up, they pick out all living and non-living things out of the ground — this has not yet been experienced. They poured all night around the outskirts of the airport near Putilovsky Bridge. By the dawn, they calmed down. : and the girl-military officer, we left her in a trench ten meters from our trench, stay overnight, intact? I got out of the trench, stomping: where is she? I can't see. Is it really shelling again ..? I fall, I notice : someone's hand sticks out of the ground, crawling. Picture: Owl in a trench She covered her clay covered with clay and took her hand with the camera, took off the explosions. She turned around: her eyes were black and scared, and her voice was angry and cheerful: “I thought you forgot about me.” You will forget this ... She often came to us, always happy for her brings good luck, "- one of the fighters from the Somalia assault battalion told about acquaintance with the warlord Owl.
She was told many times that she was the most risky, courageous, and therefore good luck among the young female military officers who came to the front lines. As long as she is close to the fighters - even in situations that threaten imminent death - there are no dead, and injuries are extremely rare.
“This is all the fiction of fighters,” Owl waves off, “legends are often born at the front as one of the psychological defenses. In fact, anyone who has no fear brings good luck. At that time, under attack from the airport, when the land shook that, from the graves, everything that was ever buried by murderers, urged by demons, rush back to life to kill again ... I was terribly insane. I prayed like that! As in a parable, the angels would hold my ears with their palms. - to angels - they were tired that they took pity, took away my ability to fight "At some point, I internally died. It is the eternal and the only way to get rid of fear - to die and be born again. There is no human merit in this, it is given or not given from above."
I will note. To get such an experience, to undergo initiation, only those who experienced internal death were able to survive even before the war. The owl knows this. She recovered to fight, because she could no longer remain in the crowd of managers, businessmen, club majors, showmen and other cherishing hopelessly worthless fantasies about career growth and the philistine well-being of mature organisms due to a misunderstanding called men. At some point, her view of the majority of those whom she considered to be friends and girlfriends changed dramatically. The questions did not recede: “creative clerks” swallowed up and chewed on by the three-headed monger of consumerism-hedonism-eudemonism — is this the crown of evolution? Dissolving by the virtual-financial juice of the gastric bottomlessness Systems crawling along the segregation of the twists of the psi-informational intestine products of social processing - are they thinkers and creators? The service of the conveyor in the abortrium of meanings proclaimed the only meaning of life, and those who are disgusted with this existential abortion of transhumanists as carriers of the image and likeness of God are considered losers?
“Once I turned on the TV and saw ...“ Gorlovskaya Madonna. ”A beautiful woman with a baby in her arms mutilated by the explosion of a Ukrainian projectile. It felt like death is near: the skull turned to me and another beauty contest in the dips of eye sockets. I am crowned with the victor's crown, applause, forced smiles on the faces of the rivals' faces, a worm-homo showman slobbering the microphone ... and behind all this - a mutilated Madonna, pressing a lifeless child to her chest ... At that moment a friend called, fashion b, she mournfully lamented the "terrible misfortune" that had befallen her: she was not among those invited to the "super show, there the whole Moscow party will be", and not to get there means being thrown out of the modeling business. While she was sobbing into the phone, I wondered: what I’m doing here, why am I not where children are dying? Can’t I help you? If a person has not helped anyone in his life, hasn’t sacrificed anything for others, then in this world, in fact, he wasn’t not born, did not live, and no one will notice his disappearance. On the same day, I left my native Kursk ... "
In the transshipment camp not far from Rostov, where volunteers from the CIS and foreign countries gathered, he grew to the political officer and, although everyone around him admonished: "Beauties have no place in war, go home to give birth to children," Owl (she received a call sign for observation and wisdom in allowing Conflict) in August 2014 crossed the border of past and present life. On the very first trip to the front line for a report (they did not allow her to fight), she was under fire from Ukrainian snipers.
On that side
In the line of fire it always seems that they are shooting at you. You understand that this feeling is a psychological twist, and nothing more. But to cope with him is very difficult, every time you have to overcome yourself, as for the first time you take a step into the unknown, waiting: the next shot will be at you.
Since the Owl is always eager for the most dangerous sectors of the front, she is lucky to meet with Ukrainian snipers. I especially remember three such meetings. Near the airport last fall, when during a run from cover to cover by a bullet from her helmet, GoPro blew off. Under Shirokino, when the scouts of the Slavic brigade had to crawl for eternity under the dry branches thrown by SVD and PC bullets and commander, noting another splash of soil, he fussed: "Bye! You won't take ukry into NATO, you’re cross-eyed Asians ..." and the Owl was sad that it was dark and, in a crawling position on his belly, one could not really take off anything. And at the cemetery plowed by Ukrainian mines near the broken Iversky nunnery near the airport, when Zhelezny Givi, the commander of the renowned Somalia battalion, saved her life.
At the monastery she was preparing another author's program "On the Other Side". In the moments of lull, I decided to take down the tombstones close by, got carried away and ... click! - the same whip sniper rifle sound - unforgettable for anyone who had to be a target ... Sat down and, again - click! - the bullet gnawed a headstone, splashed stone chips at the helmet on the GoPro. From the holes in the walls of the monastery church, our machine gun began to work in return, the AGS rattled. Pause ... Owl chose the moment to rush to the shelter, cry: "Sit on the spot!" Behind his back - Givi: "I told you, not a step from me!" Click! - the Ukrainian sniper did not let up, once again nipping a gravestone with a bullet in the portrait of the angel-like deceased. Givi barked into the radio: "Everyone - the fire!" and, under the cover of the veil of automatic machine-gun bursts, with his back to the enemy, taking him by the shoulders and shielding himself the girl-voenkara, calmly led her through the sweep. In the temple, eye-to-eye searchingly, he asked sympathetically: "Was you very frightened?"
She could not disappoint the one who risked her life for her, nodded: "yes." Although I did not feel frightened, but growing anger: both video cameras were out of order, we must go, but here there are so many “fat frames”! “I never think about what they can kill,” she explains, “I need to think about how to do my work better.” I confirm. The real war correspondent is like this: he will shoot after death, and let Bosch himself envy the visions captured on camera ...
“I didn’t set myself any super-task, it’s ridiculous. I just wanted people to see the situation from the inside with my own eyes, to feel at least someone who could disappear at any moment. My task is to show the fighters on the front line, and there , I was convinced - all the heroes. When I look at them in battle, I absolutely do not care what happens to me, I want one thing - to tell about them, defeating fear and death. They know: death is not the worst thing that can happen to a man. In short visits home they ask me: you are on the front line, you communicate with fighters, politicians, civilians - explain why Novorossia was not created? I answer: the reasons are not Russia's economic weakness, sanctions, political configurations and international tensions fraught with World War. The verbiage of experts on these topics is only a cover for an unattractive fact : The concentration of people possessed by fear is too great right now. Oligarchs, politicians, middle class, hard workers are afraid of losing their relative well-being, they refuse to understand that tomorrow they can lose everything - the state, freedom, life. They are afflicted with carelessness. Thanks to the volunteers, they are heroes, but they are too few. If there were tens and hundreds of thousands of them, and great Russia could have given so many volunteers, we would have to be reckoned with in the Kremlin, this could be a factor that could radically change the balance of power. If people in the occupied territories went to the militia, screaming in social networks about when Mariupol, Slavyansk, and Kharkov would be liberated, their cities would have long been part of Novorossia. They preferred to wait, afraid to lose imaginary well-being. At the heart of every disease - spiritual, psychological, somatic and social (when nations are sick) - fear, as the deeper source of war. By and large, war is a collective session of radical psychotherapy. All of us in this “world” are sick, and those who are not afraid of treatment - survives; if they evade treatment, they die. And the recipe for victory is simple: the fewer people who are afraid to die are, the more powerless is death ... "
... If you ever think of setting up a monument to all fallen and living soldiers, no matter where they work - in Abkhazia, Chechnya, Transdniestria, Ossetia, New Russia, Syria, in any other hot spot of the planet - I am sure it will look like : a half-poured earth in a trench is a girl with a strict face turned to the sky and a raised hand. In his hand, the camera and on the non stop monitor chronicles of past wars alternate with live broadcasts of the battles of the current war, and each period ends with a Victory Parade on Red Square: at the foot of the Mausoleum, Russian warriors hurl stars and stripes of the defeated superpower.
Information