When we finished, the commander ordered my friend and me to carry the equipment to the car. We walked about 30–40 meters and heard an explosion behind us, rushed to help. But when they ran up, they saw that there was no one to help, only scattered arms, heads, and legs remained. We collected everything, as it was necessary to send them to their homeland.
After this "baptism of fire" we walked around as if distraught, and could not come to ourselves.
Bloody hair, heads, legs with hanging threads of meat, and fingers gathered into a fist for a long time still dreamed and did not give me peace. The commander's head was split in two, and the eye on one side was clear. He haunted me at night. Seemed alive…
Their summers are hot. Therefore, we began the pursuit of the Afghan detachment at dawn. They retreated to the mountains. The first group turned to the village at the foot of the mountain. In pursuit of the detachment, we climbed quite high into the mountains. Finally, the commander gave the order to turn back. But it was too late, it was impossible to do, because we were surrounded. I had to climb higher into the mountains. For five days we held the defense. The helicopter that was sent to our rescue was shot down. There was very little food and ammunition, four out of twenty fighters were killed, and five were seriously wounded. All attempts to save them were in vain. On the sixth day, the Afghans captured five of us. They blindfolded us and drove us somewhere.
We were lying in a corner of a large courtyard. About twenty Afghans, high on hash, got high. Occasionally, we heard the words "bacho, bacho". The healthiest one stood out from their circle, came up to us, and, playing with a knife in his hand, smiling, bent down to a soldier a little away from me. "Bacho, kofur, bacho, kofur," he repeated, and our eyes were riveted on the knife in his hand. The lower he bent, the wider the soldier's blue eyes opened. His head seemed to be pressed into the ground. Suddenly, the big man grabbed his ear with one hand, and, like a petal, cut it off with a knife. A faint groan escaped the soldier's lips, but he did not utter another sound. The big man tossed the ear into the air, caught it and put it in his mouth. I closed my eyes, but somehow I heard this guy chewing with a crunch. When I opened my eyes, I couldn't take my eyes off this terrible sight. There's bloody foam on his lips. It looks like a wolf with a bloody mouth. Red saliva flowed down his chin, and he wrinkled up, as if he had eaten a sour apple and spat it out. Pieces of chewed ear were scattered on the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut and, as if enjoying human blood, stretched sweetly. Then he turned back to the soldier and, like a butcher throwing a bone to a dog, cut off both hands and threw them aside. The severed arms twitched on the ground like fish washed ashore. A stream of scarlet blood sprayed the face of the soldier lying next to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, causing the folds of his eyelids to fill with blood. Blood was still gushing from the executioner's first victim, and he approached the second. For some reason, the soldier lay still. He didn't even move. And the severed ear twitched again in the hands of this vampire. Then he started kicking the soldier. Not a sound in response. Realizing that the soldier was dead, he threw his ear in my direction. Tumbling in the air, the ear hit my lips. It was cold, but I was afraid to even take a deep breath. My eyes followed his every move intently, like a cat watching a mouse.
He slowly came up and stood over me, legs wide apart. He looked like a mythological, predatory diva. It is impossible to imagine a human being so angry. But the facial features are correct, the eyes are not red. But they shone coldly. You feel powerless in front of such a creature.
He said something in Afghan. It seems that my nationality is being questioned. But then a miracle happened… Our people broke in, untied me and two other prisoners. The dushmans were captured. We picked up the remains of two comrades and returned to the unit.
I don't want to stir up a lot of things. From these memories, blood rushes to the brain. You're numb. The feeling of fear, anxiety does not leave my heart. There, on that land, what happiness it was to meet, and talk with your fellow countrymen. Now, noticing that this feeling of love and tenderness is cooling, I am surprised, and fear creeps into my soul. I think we're starting to get bored with each other. But don't write down these words of mine. It's just my feelings.
I meet a lot of people who are rude in their treatment. And every time, it's like a new wound.
One day, we went on a mission to Pansher. We are exhausted on the road. The hot wind, dust, and tension exhausted us. Here we came to a mountain stream with clear water. There are eight of us. It was hard to resist the temptation to swim in the cool water. We looked around carefully. Having made sure of their safety, my comrades bathed. But I was uneasy in my soul. Without undressing, I began to wipe my machine gun. It seemed to me that someone was watching us, and I constantly looked around. And for good reason. A shot rang out. I fired a burst from the machine in that direction. In response, they fired again. Two of my friends were killed, the rest managed to grab their weapons and take cover. We saw that several Afghans were approaching us and began to retreat along the river to the ruins of the old village. In order not to get too far from the road, we decided to take up defense in an abandoned yard near the shore. The walls here were high. Through a hole made in the wall for water, we penetrated inside. But then something unexpected happened. The foreman, a big man, is stuck. Only I was left outside. And the enemies were approaching. Not knowing what to do, I froze for a moment. Then I realized it and mercilessly kicked the foreman from behind. It helped. Startled by the pain, he slipped through the hole. Only the stone fell off the wall behind him. I quickly followed him, and we filled the hole with stones.
I apologized to the commander, and in return I received a promise that I would be presented with a reward. Yes, such stories happened during the war.
"THAT IS HOW MY FINGERS LOOK…"
Muhammad Ergashev, born in 1963. From Tashkent region, Uzbekistan.
On October 18, we, the several soldiers, were given the task of defusing the shells. We were sent to one of the warehouses that exploded from a lightning strike. The nearby villages are completely destroyed. A huge area around it was all covered in potholes. The trees had burned down, and only a few blackened trunks stuck out of the ground. Fortunately, not all the bullets exploded. Otherwise, the nearby town would also be severely damaged.
A month before this task, I began to saw dreams in which I saw myself exploding on a mine. I jumped out of bed in horror. The visions were repeated again and again. The heart is restless, and in the morning, breakfast does not lie in the throat. Every day I feel the approaching fateful event more and more clearly.
On that day, October 18, I saw that dream again. I was awake. The bed is wet from sweat, and the heart is ready to jump out of the chest. The newspaper announced a rise. Everyone was dressed, and I felt like I was being squeezed. After breakfast, I asked the officer:
– Allow me to stay today. Something is wrong with the heart.
But he did not let me stay:
It was the eleventh hour. Trains were supposed to go to the warehouses, so I cleaned up the entrance routes from the shells. My gaze fell on a red, cigarette-sized detonator from an anti-tank grenade. He had to be removed. I bowed and took him in my hands. Someone was screaming, "Drop it!" But I didn’t have time. There was an explosion…
Every time we enter this territory, we pray to God to save our lives. When we left her, we whispered, "Thank God, it’s over." This time, it did not work. It hurts in the eyes. The ears bet. I wandered and crossed the rail. I barely opened my eyes and looked at my hands. I saw naked white bones and hanging pieces of meat. The blood had not yet come out, and there was no pain I felt. My eyes stopped seeing. "It’s over", I thought. I began to grope my way to the ditch that ran along the road. Feeling that I was on the edge of the abyss, I jumped. I didn’t feel any pain, as if I had fallen into a soft posture. Comrades came to me. They crossed my hands. "Give me a grenade", – I begged them, "I’ll blow myself up".
We had one major, very evil, very rude. I hated him and wanted to call my dog by his name when I came home. There I heard his voice. I realized he was crying.
– You’ll still live, you’ll live well, son, – he said. I immediately forgot all his cruelty and forgave him.
I was picked up and taken out of the warehouse.