As it turned out, three bullets hit me in the thigh. An operation was performed at the hospital. Then they were brought to Tashkent by plane. The thought that the leg would be cut off was spinning in my brain. Only Nizamiddin from relatives found out about my injury. I wouldn't have told him either, but he saw it himself when they bandaged the wound.
– Don't say anything to my parents, – I asked him. When the parents first came to the hospital, they said that in those days they sensed trouble in their hearts. Yes, probably. Parents, wherever their children are, always feel the grief that has fallen on their heads.
– You asked me what I would do if I met that enemy now. Nothing. But if I had run into him at that time, I would have torn him apart. After all, life was at stake. If he hadn't shot at me, I would have put a bullet in him. This is the absurdity of war: that one person is ready to kill another, not knowing who he is or who is to blame for him. Actually, I don't understand these cases. Why did we go there? Why I came back wounded. And it is always more difficult for the locals. There are corpses of children, women, and old people everywhere. Whose bullet killed them, no one can know…
"MY FAMILY BEGGED ME…"
Timur Saidov, born in 1969. From Karshi, Uzbekistan.
He was blown up by a mine in the village of Piramakon.
– There was a tank in front of me. My friends Victor and Mamur climbed it. It was the road we traveled every day. When the tank was two hundred meters away from us, suddenly there was an explosion. I saw my friends being thrown up, and they fell to the ground. The tank was engulfed by fire. This happened there often, and every day we lost one of our comrades. But I haven't seen it up close until now. They were thrown a dozen meters above the tank. For a few moments, they hung in the air and then fell down. It was terrible. I lost consciousness for a moment. I was sure they were dead, and coffins appeared before my eyes. We held a lot of coffins.
We all ran to the burning tank. The guys were lying in the dust, one to the left and the other to the right of the tank, twenty meters away from him. I jumped over a mine crater, and I didn't have time to take two steps, heading towards Mamur, as a terrible explosion stunned me. I was floating in the void for a long, very long time.. Then I fell on the soft ground, like a feather bed. I didn't lose consciousness. I tried to get up, but… I didn't feel any pain at that moment. I lean on my hands and don't understand why I can't get up. My gaze fell on an object a few meters away from me, which looked like a piece of wood. Somehow reaching out, I pulled him towards me. Surprised that the piece of wood was soft and warm, I peered into it and saw that it was someone's foot. I felt it move in my hands, thought it was Mamur's leg and was scared. Frantically looking around, I searched for him and did not find. Another leg was sticking out of the pit opposite. Blood, mixing with something whitish, dripped from her, and I still did not understand what had happened. I felt that something terrible was happening to me, too. Gathering all my strength, I tried to get up again. But…
Now I could never get up. The leg that I held in one hand and that died in my palms was mine.
And the one sticking out of the pit was also my leg. They were torn off above the knees.
No, I can't tell you everything that I saw then. There are no words in the world that could convey all this.
I felt dizzy. I lowered it to the ground. The huge blue firmament disappeared, but a dot remained—a small black dot. "Now, now I'm going to get stuck" I thought. It was probably a miracle. Yes, yes, a miracle. When I opened my eyes, my father, mother, and all my relatives gathered together and told me:
– Son, don't do this; we beg you, don't kill yourself.
Until now, this day, like a living picture, has risen before my eyes. I dream of them at night; they are begging, begging…
"DON'T CRY, GUYS, I'll BE BACK…"
Pyotr Krysyuk, born in 1962. From Ukraine
– The three of us were driving in the car. We left the groceries at two gates and headed for the third. That's why the driver Babayev asked us not to go then. "Don't be afraid, – I told him, everything will be fine".
After the explosion, the driver lied motionless in front of me. Foreman Dolinskiy was writhing on the ground. The car was smoking. "Are they alive?" flashed through my mind. Sand grated on my teeth. I open my mouth, but I can't make a sound. As if something was stuck in his throat, a wheeze escaped. "Are you alive?" – I either shouted or croaked. I didn't know if I had injured myself because I didn't feel any pain. But, chained to the ground, I could not get up. When I somehow turned to the foreman, my gaze fell on a dark puddle under my feet. I was scared. I looked at my feet…
Have you seen meat chopped with an axe? In the same way, my legs were chopped into small pieces. The severed feet were sticking out of a bloody puddle, and it seemed to me that fingers had grown out of the ground. Chunks of meat hung on rags of skin that had not been torn from the legs yet. I looked at the driver and the foreman. The foreman lay motionless, and the driver got to his feet. "Shoot the machine gun" – I told him. "They will hear us on the IFV and take away". He took a step and felt like he had a hamstring. I heard the hum of engines. Then I lost consciousness. I woke up when they put me in the car. I felt cold. I was trembling all over. One of the soldiers who came for us took off his greatcoat and covered me with it. Then the second one did the same. When I opened my eyes, both of them were sitting next to me, undressed. Then they said that when they heard the explosion, they quickly threw their pea jackets over their shoulders and hurried to help. I saw how cold they were and told them to take their overcoats, but they refused. When I was brought to the medical battalion, all the soldiers, for some reason, averted their eyes, some tried to hide their tears. I encouraged them: "Don't cry, guys, I'll come back again to you". I was really sure I'd be back.
When they brought me into the ward, my consciousness was already clouded. My strength was draining away, and my eyes were getting dark. Finally, everything was plunged into darkness, and my eyelids closed.
When I woke up, the bright light hurt my eyes, It had been five days. The soft touch of someone's fingers on my forehead opened my eyes. This was a nurse.
– They fought for your life, but there was no way to save your legs, – she said in a trembling voice. I had no legs.
Recently, I saw my guys on a TV show, and it burned like fire. I found out that the foreman was also left without both legs. The decision to enter this country was a cruel mistake. But what to do? Fate so ordered that we guys of the sixties had to pay for this mistake.
"WE WERE NAMESAKES"
Abduvahid Ergashev, born in 1963. From Tashkent, Uzbekistan.
We cleared the roads of mines. One company was allocated from each battalion of our regiment for this purpose, and a new battalion was formed. We also had to clear the territories of the exploded warehouses of mines, shells, and other ammunition.
When we came to the village where the warehouses exploded, there were no people there. Only cows and chickens, left without owners, wandered through the deserted streets. Houses are destroyed, and trees are charred. Even the ground was scorched underfoot, like ashes.
We set up tents. The next day, we went to our destination. We got off the cars. There was nowhere for the feet to step – shells, grenades, damaged mines, and other dangerous weapons were scattered everywhere.
We were taught how to collect all this. We split into groups and started working thirty meters apart from each other.
At