Bahriddin Haydarov, born in 1967. From Bukhara region of Uzbekistan.
– The year 1986. Beginning of October. We returned from Hanabad to Kunduz. It was announced that Ahmad Shah had returned. His men settled in the highest, well-fortified place. Our battalion was strengthened by a regiment of motor gunmen. The Afghan sarandoi were also with us. At ten o’clock we were located four hundred meters from enemy positions. Seeing our preparations, the dushmans began to shoot first.
Two AFV were sent from us for investigate. However, they quickly returned, the soldiers reported something, and the commander decided that there was no point in attacking.
Planes were called. They, along with artillery, began to intensively shot at enemy fortifications. Unable to withstand the arranged hell, the Afghans withdrew to the village of Hanabad. In the battle a boy from Leninabad was wounded. We took three prisoners. When we, the sappers, purified this elevation, we were ordered to stay here and to settle.
We cut down trees around the fortification. The next day after returning to the location of the regiment, came the news that enemy units had appeared in Herat. We flew there by plane. From there we were transported to the mountains by helicopter. Three days later, we met in the mountains. The enemy stood on the opposite mountain. The distance between us was about a kilometer. Every movement could be seen in the binoculars. Among them we noticed people in foreign shape with light hair, as well as Arabs. They disassembled machine guns and mines.
There was another squadron next to us. In the first battle, my commander was injured. Tashbay Kurbanbayev and I each have 15 soldiers left.
At night fighting had stopped. I cannot describe it in detail, because battle in the mountains is different than in the plains. It seems like bullets are flying into you from all sides, you do not notice who is dead and who is still alive. Sometimes you can’t figure out what the enemy is hiding behind.
I remembered the whistling of bullets, the fires of shells, mortars, their echo in the mountains.
At three o’clock at night, when everything was quiet, I and the Khorezm boy had to change the guard in office. Soldiers are sleeping well. We were located in opposite points, a hundred meters away from the sleeping soldiers. In order not to lose vigilance, agreed to throw small stones. In the mountains, especially at the base, was some unusual darkness. It seemed like all the darkness was gathered around between the two peaks. You look down and it becomes awful. In the sky, the stars are shining – they are also unusually bright: the Big Bear, here is the Milky Way. It is good for study astronomy here. Nevertheless, these beautiful stars lead to unfortunate thoughts. They see everything. But if in my homeland there is a quiet, peaceful life under them, then here they look at the blood, the broken human bodies, the armored soldiers’ legs, the explosions of bombs, and the venerations of mothers. Per that’s why the stars look like they’re shrinking from fear. Peaceful life is hard to imagine.
My thoughts were interrupted by a suspicious noise. Someone approached me. It was about half five in the morning. I threw a stone to the side of the partner, he in the same way made it clear what he heard. The rustle was getting closer. At this time, somewhere it was fired from a rocket, everything around it lighted up in light. At three hundred meters from me I saw behind the nearby valley turban. I shoot from a rocket. My partner in long rows began to shoot from the machine gun in the direction of the valley. I heard the stone, and it all melted.
The next morning we learned about the death of one and the injury of another enemy spy. Soon the fight started again. I probably knew where I was standing, because the bullets whispered and hit the stones with a scratch. I could not shuffle. I stayed in this position for about ten minutes. Then they stopped shooting, apparently thinking it was over. I ran to another place and started shooting again. I lost half a gun shop and went down to the barracks. The commander ordered the defense. However, it was impossible to raise the head.
I don’t even remember when I ate. There was no food or water. From the stones came the heat, accumulated during the day. The throat is dry, it seems like it is filled with something hot. This is when you really feel the value of a spoonful of water.
The place we occupied was not very comfortable. Per that is why our commander decided to defend. They started moving under the rainy bullet towards the mountain. I, as a sapphire, had to go ahead and clean the road. The old, abandoned rocks were not replaced. All the soldiers who slipped after me had dirty and torn clothes, and the faces of them were dust and blood. I thought what a miserable spectacle we were. But it was for an external observer, and there were no such people here.
I accidentally noticed a narrow path, and we followed it. At a short distance, a guy from Khorezm followed me. Suddenly there was a deaf explosion. The explosive wave threw me a few meters away. I couldn’t see anything around, because everything was covered in dust. When the dust settled, I went looking for a path. I felt something sticky on my face, I felt it was blood. Someone from behind shouted: "You’re burning!" Only then I noticed my burning pants. A soldier named Samin helped me deal with the fire. This explosion shattered me deeply. The fragment broke out my left arm, one eye was filled with sand, and my left leg was heavily burned. Strangely, but at first I felt nothing and discovered the wounds gradually, as if exploring myself from the side. The boys put me on the blanket and took me. The bullets continued to accompany us, but fortunately no one was hit.
We went down two and a half kilometers. I asked my friend Sabir to give me water. The Russian guys asked what I asked him about and, learning what it was, said that drinking now is in no way possible, it can destroy the wounded. I felt bad, my condition worsened, tears turned. Deciding that it was time to say goodbye to life, I asked Sabir: "I will still die. You have my parent's address, don’t forget me! Tell all my family about me. Be with them more often. They will accept you as their son". I gave a friend a piece of paper.
Under the wind of helicopter blades, I came to myself. At first, the lieutenant was taken, he had no one leg. The blood slipped on the ground. Then they carried two red-haired soldiers and one black-haired soldier. All three were dead. Death gave their faces a common expression. Then they raised me.
When I was already in the air shouting "Water, water!" a pilot came out of the helicopter’s cockpit. Walking through the dead, he struck his foot in a puddle of blood. The scratches grabbed my face. I felt her taste and started licking.
– What is your name? You will live a long time. You will embrace the girls and kiss them in the lips to the blood. – You can’t drink water now, tolerate, soldiers, there is a little left, soon everything will be fine, – he said and, wiping out the blood from my face, disappeared in the cabin.
We arrived at a hospital in Shindon. The doctors were Kyrgyz.
– The operation will be heavy, a lot of blood has been lost, – said the colonel of the medical service.
I was lying in the cold room and hearing all that conversation. The nurse, cutting my clothes with blades, carefully removed it. Many of the Kyrgyz nurses had wet eyes. The war did not deprive these girls of compassion.
After the injection, the pain disappeared. At the first operation, my fingers were cut off. We prepared for the second, which lasted six hours. I don’t know how long I’ve been unconscious in the room. When I recovered, I was terribly surprised: I was all in the green. There were two slides above. One of them was tied to the hand, the other passed under the bed. When I lifted up the blanket, I saw that this end was tied to the other leg, to that, what was left of it…
Immediately in front of the eyes appeared the colloquial old men with bones. I lost consciousness…
At dawn, someone cried out, "Bahriddin, Bahriddin!" When I turned to the voice, I saw Sergeant Satin lying next to me. He also had a stump instead of one leg. Six hours after the operation, he started "walking" with the help of the boys.
– There was only a month before demobee, – he cried.
I also only had a month. Previously, I wrote home that the service was going "beautifully", and then I didn’t know what to write about. And in the last letter I said: "We are being taken out of Afghanistan".
When