The Bloody Veil. Abdurashid Nurmuradov. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Abdurashid Nurmuradov
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Год издания: 2024
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leadership, their disinterest in the fate of people, lack of discipline in the army, moral decline among the management, sales among officers. The sale of weapons by officers for personal gain, the rewarding not of soldiers who did not regret their forces or lives, but of those who bought these awards, the bullying of the new recruits. The heartless attitude of the Soviet bureaucratic machine, the disinterest in human fates with some irony is transmitted in the words of Bakhtiyar Kuchkarov: "…The body of Sasha for fifteen days was kept in the refrigerator for some reason. And there was a turn that was an integral part of our lives". The decisions that were to affect the outcome of many battles were not taken by the field commanders themselves, but by officers who sat somewhere there, in various offices, reducing all the efforts of the fighters to failure and the death of the soldiers.

      Now a few words about Abdurashid Nurmuradov. He was born in a large family. There were eleven children in the family. His father, a participant in the Second World War, because of his truthfulness did not get along with the big bosses and lived in narrow conditions.

      Since childhood, being a smart and stubborn boy, Abdurashid worked a lot. He was a watcher on a cotton field, an ordinary collective farmer, he drove a tractor. In the army he served in airborne troops. The young man continued to play sport. He was a champion of the military district in sports gymnastics, had the title of master of sports. In addition, Abdurashid became the best sniper of the district.

      After serving in the army he went to study at the institute. After graduation, he worked in publishers, magazines and television. At the same time, the creative work did not stop.

      The novels "Nobel mukofotiga nоmzod" ("Candydat for the Nobel Prize"), "Kuk тerаklar" ("Green poplars"), "Oq qizlar" ("White Girls") belong to his feather. He is also the author of a TV series of 50 episodes, which tells about the difficult relations between Russia and Turkestan.

      Abdurashid Nurmuradov writes a lot about war. His works "Urush bevalari" ("Widows of War"), "Tutash Kalblar" ("Hearts touched") can be called the anthem of fidelity. Because these works reflect the difficult fate of more than a hundred women of many nationalities, who all their lives wait for unreturned husbands from the battlefields. The colorless lives of these women, which are a symbol of devotion, serve as a silent reproach to that cursed war. In the work "Bolalikda otilgan o'q" ("Shot in the child") reflects the fate of the innocent children sentenced by the war to miserable existence and hunger. The missing childhood of these boys serves as an eternal curse to those who lit the fire of war.

      In 1993, on the basis of the lives of Afghan warriors, he wrote the novel "Qon Hidi" ("The Smell of Blood"). In it he on a high artistic level, on the example of the life of Wahid, the main character, describes all the complexity of the soul of the person who visited the war in Afghanistan.

      Abdurashid, beginning in the second half of the 1980s, began seriously dealing with the problem of the Afghan war. In search of Afghan soldiers, he visited all the republics of the former alliance, began to study the spiritual world in detail, the lives of his heroes. Finally, in 1991, the first edition of the book "The Bloody veil" appeared.

      The life of the Afghan war participants for Abdurashid is not only an artistic object, it has become an integral part of his life.

      In 1990 he took part in the solemn meeting of the leadership of the former Union, dedicated to the 45th anniversary of the victory over fascist Germany. The President of that country awarded him a nominal watch for creative and practical work related to the fate of Afghan soldiers.

      At the same time he meets Hero of the Soviet Union I.Kojedub three times, he helped solve many problems associated with the post-war life arrangement of Afghan soldiers.

      Abdurashid meets with the heads of various organizations and employs more than a hundred Afghan soldiers in accordance with their vocation, helps in the registration of benefits when receiving medicines to more than one hundred Afghanistan soldiers. More than twenty Afghan soldiers, with his direct assistance, entered higher education institutions. Another 20 people also received benefits when entering the universities. Some of them helped buy housing.

      If we summarize what has been said, we can say that Abdurashid Nurmuradov for a long time dedicated most of his creative and practical activities to Afghan soldiers.

      A real reflection of the bitter truth of war will help to form the consciousness of the growing generation.

      Kazakhbay Yuldash, professor

      Afghanistan…

      For decades, it has been at the center of the attention of the global public. For a decade, people around the world have been waiting for information about the bloody events taking place in this much-suffering Afghan land, hoping to find out the truth. However, it was not easy to catch her in the overwhelmed formulations of official messages. But those who tried to hide the truth did not take into account that it will always break its way, overcome all obstacles.

      It is no secret that my people suffered enormous losses from this unwanted war, became the victim of a foolish and unfair political game. The Afghan truth was not told from the high tribunes, it is recognized by the burning tears of mothers whose sons became victims of that crazy war, by their bitter murmuring, their mental suffering in the endless black sleepless nights. And most importantly, it will be learned from the narrow stories of those who, by the evil will of politicians, were thrown into the cradle of death and, in spite of everything, avoided it.

      In the preface to the novel “Goodbye, weapons” E. Hemingway said, “Those who, incite and wage war, pigs who only think of economic competition and what they can earn from it.” Today we know who is to blame for the Afghan massacre. But we are all guilty, because we were silent, and therefore we were ugly.

      The pain for the dead fellow citizens, the feeling of guilt and compassion, the compassion for the loved ones of the deceased guys, all this prompted me to take the pen. And here it is before you the truth of what happened, the truth bitter, heavy, uncovered and undecorated in the reckless stories of ordinary guys who have undergone inhumane trials. Reading them is hard, painful, scary. In order for this to never happen again and ever, we need to fight for an active public position.

      Closing your eyes to problems doesn’t mean getting rid of them. “ostrich politics” has not yet benefited anyone. So, my reader, shake your heart in your fist and read, read and think.

      The Author

      1991 year

      THE PAIN LEFT IN THE HEARTS

      For a few days, my mother barely moved her legs "No urine, my children. My head turns", she said. First of all, she tried to help us at home. Then she completely followed.

      When I came to her after work, she repeated:

      – The forces are leaving me, son. I cannot get up. The plane is damned. I always had a headache after he was pollinating the cotton fields we were working on.

      I tried to comfort her:

      – The chemicals have nothing to do with it. You are probably tired.

      Sadly shaking her head, she replied:

      – You do not know, son. This is a bad airplane.

      Why do I remember my mom’s last days so often? Probably because since the day she came down, our family has left peace. In the hard days of my life, my mother’s broken voice always sounds in my ears: "This is a bad airplane".

      From day to day, my mother’s face became more and more pale. In a brigade truck she was taken to the hospital. When we were about to go back, my mom repeated again and again:

      – Visit your father more often. Whatever happens, the pressure is high. In those days, my father was in the hospital. My mother told me the disease of father was out of war.

      Never in the post-war years the pressure of my father had fallen below two hundred. As soon as the bad days began, he had to go to the hospital to at least somehow ease his suffering. My soul was worried. After working for two days on a warp cleaner, I went to the brigadier and gathered with