No one but us soldiers' stories about Afghanistan. Igor Gennadievich Slavin ()

“... You need to be not just stupid, you need to be arrogant to deny what was ...”
V. V. Putin (and he Putin interprets what happened in his own way, depriving the peoples of Russia and Ukraine of the future with his madness of the wars in Ukraine and Syria, propaganda of Russian fascism all over the world!)

This work is artistic and literary, and the author and the site on which it is published are not responsible for the content of the text and the content of other copyright materials and links presented in it, are not responsible and do not provide any guarantees in connection with the publication of facts, data, results and other information. Any resemblance to real living or living people is coincidental.

“... When our soldiers are driven to the next war for the happiness of wealth and the power of a state and people alien to us, and the crippled and disabled will return from the next war, perhaps your relatives, you will surely realize the meaning of this message.
And now our young guys, future soldiers, have the opportunity to read and perhaps understand what awaits them in the event of a new armed conflict outside our Motherland ... "
Artur Yakovenko, machine gunner of the 5th company, 350th Airborne Regiment, 103rd Airborne Division (years of service in Afghanistan 1982-1984)

"NOBODY EXCEPT US"
The truth of Afghanistan through the eyes of a soldier of the Airborne Forces

Veteran of the Afghan war Andrei Likhoshersny said very well about this work:
"... Here is the truth that lives in each of us, and which we are afraid to admit even to ourselves ...".

Let these words be the epigraph to this work.

"NOBODY EXCEPT US"

“... Here is the truth that lives in each of us, and which we are afraid to admit even to ourselves ...”
Andrey Likhosherny

CHAPTER ONE: "Landing"

"Nobody except us". This is the motto of the Airborne Forces.
No one except us could and can not perform many military tasks.
No one but us can tell the whole truth.
The real truth about our life and service, about our battles, victories, mistakes and our crimes in the Afghan war.
The real truth, not patriotic fairy tales and boastful tales of tipsy or "too" forgetful "heroes": marshals, generals, soldiers, ensigns and officers.

I was incredibly lucky to serve in Afghanistan, in the Fifth Company of the 2nd Battalion, 350th Airborne Regiment, 103rd Airborne Division.
Heroic company, heroic battalion, legendary regiment, no less legendary and heroic division.

And it is not just words. The 103rd Airborne Division controlled the capital of Afghanistan, Kabul, the Kabul airfield (the main airfield of Afghanistan) and all the approaches to the airfield and Kabul.
The 350th Airborne Regiment was part of this division and was its most combat regiment. The headquarters of the 103rd division and the 350th regiment were separated by only a few hundred meters. The 103rd division, in fact, was the heart of the contingent of Soviet troops in Afghanistan. The 350th Airborne Regiment, in turn, was the heart of the 103rd division and, moreover, practically did not climb out of the battles.

I took a sip of a very high honor, which, by my standards, I still have not justified and far from fully deserved.

To be at least one day in battle the trigger of the 350th airborne regiment in the Afghan war - even if not the most outstanding and heroic, but the trigger - is an honor for any real man. There will never be anything higher than this rank for me, just as there will be no award, higher than the green-painted iron emblem of the Airborne Troops from the buttonhole of my faded military Hebchik.

Along with this honor and honor, I drank over the edge and the pain of bullying, and the injustice of insults, and the bitterness of indifference, and the never-ceasing grief of losing my friends in the company, who were in many ways undeniably higher and cleaner than me.

In fairness, it is worth noting that the greatest Heroes of the Afghan war should and can be considered precisely those who absolutely served in Afghanistan in Kurki and, together with the triggers, in combat companies, and all one and a half, or even two and a half years, climbed in the mountains and carried all the hardships and deprivations of service between the combat in the mountains, it was in these trigger, sapper, mortar, AGS, signalmen and others that went to the mountains (namely to the mountains, and not just to combat exits) companies, platoons and separate groups .

Unfortunately, I have no right to boast of such a difficult one and a half year soldier's service. Of course, I also fought and was a trigger and even was a machine gunner, and a squad leader, and a deputy platoon commander in a trigger company, and repeatedly, for more than a year, I went to combat in the mountains, but in my service there were also easier months of service than an ordinary front-line soldier of the trigger. Therefore, I always feel my guilt before them, for the fact that they endured much more on their shoulders and in their souls than I did.
While I served for several months in a relaxed position in the regiment and in the rear of the medical battalion, they fought, covering my quiet life with their bodies and their lives.
It was always undeniably safer inside divisions, regiments and medical battalions. Therefore, I consider it unfair when those who did not go to fight in the mountains, but who spent their entire service in divisions and regiments, are safe, soldiers, ensigns, officers and generals, who, at best, only reached the foot of the mountains and then waited on the armor for these combat trigger platoons, companies and groups, are now beating their chests and saying that they, too, are combat front-line soldiers.
The triggers of combat companies and the specialists attached to them, who spent their entire service on military operations in the mountains and on escorting columns - these are real warriors.

Forgive me guys for not being as strong as you.

I do not ask for forgiveness from generals, officers and ensigns, I ask for forgiveness from those ordinary soldiers of the triggers of the 350th Airborne Regiment, who from the beginning to the very end, heroic and difficult service, more honestly than I, courageously pulled their soldier's strap and in the regiment , and in the mountains, and in the location of the companies, performing their work and duties themselves, without shifting them onto the shoulders of junior draft soldiers, and who did not turn into scumbags, mocking their colleagues, and beating their colleagues.

Forgive me guys.

We, young soldiers, after training, came to Afghanistan, and everyone around, from a sergeant to a general, from a squad leader to a division commander, inspired us that the rest of the soldiers, years old and demobilized, who served in Afghanistan, even if only for six months, more than we are unambiguously correct and infallible heroes.
We, "who did not sniff gunpowder," looked at them as heroes during our first six months of the war. We perceived them as heroes who carry the truth, and who must be unambiguously obeyed in everything, and who are always and everywhere right.
This was confusing. These "heroes" insulted, beaten, humiliated us, they mocked and mocked us, and we believed that it was our own fault. They are heroes, and we are stupid, idiots who have not yet taken a sip of mountains and battles, only preventing them, “real heroes”, from defending their homeland correctly.
At the same time, there is also an absolute impossibility, anywhere from all this mess and bestiality of the Afghan war, to get away, as in the Union. It’s there, you can run away from the unit, and sneak through, and get dirty, and go AWOL, and roll a letter to your mother with a folder so that they come, feed them with buns and take pity on them, and take them away from the unit for three or four days.
And in the Union, young soldiers immediately understand that all these bullying are from the stupidity of those who bully, and not from the necessity of these bullying.
In Afghanistan, unlike the Union, the fucking war didn’t give us a chance to understand the reality (precisely the reality, from the word “bitch”) of such “heroes”.

In Afghanistan, you were always and everywhere, exactly and only with the unit. No one came to anyone, and no one could go anywhere.

Any absence, of any soldier, of any year of conscription, and even more so of a young soldier, without the permission of a sergeant or company officer, any unauthorized disappearance from the tents or modules of the unit further than 10 - 15 meters, was considered by the commanders through the prism of military and front-line time, as desertion, with corresponding dire consequences. Dembel, for such an unauthorized disappearance, was unequivocally punished by beatings.
Not only that, if a young soldier arbitrarily disappeared from the field of view of years and "grandfathers", it means that he shirks their orders and orders and they are forced to do all kinds of work in the company, which, according to the definition of non-statistics, is supposed to be performed only by young soldiers.
A young soldier can wander behind the location of the unit and fall into the clutches of dushmans, where he will most likely be killed.
Any check of the personnel, and it was carried out in the companies almost hourly, obliged the commanders, in case of a shortage of soldiers, to sound the alarm up to the regiment commander. Immediately, the entire personnel of the company, then the battalion, and then the regiment, went up in real combat alert in search of the missing person, no matter what year he was drafted. Everyone received a scolding, from the squad leader to the regiment commander. They could demote, remove from office, “hack to death” an order or a medal, they could even give it to a tribunal for the disappearance or corpse of a soldier. Our "meat" has always been strictly registered.
So that no one wanted to “fly in” or run around with their tongue hanging out in search of another fool who decided to even visit a fellow countryman in a neighboring company.
Therefore, the old-timers, with the tacit approval of the company officers, taught such an unauthorized "freak" with good beatings and repeatedly. Don't let yourself or your company down.
Only with the permission of the commander was it possible to retreat somewhere even in the location of the unit (regiment), and then, very, very rarely such permissions were given, and, as a rule, not one, but several soldiers left, and, as a rule, with weapons. Even when going to the toilet through the parade ground, they were obliged to receive a machine gun with live ammunition. Therefore, usually, the gun park was closed on an ordinary wooden stick.

In Afghanistan, we were confused by the war and the tales of old-time soldiers, ensigns and officers about their heroic deeds in previous battles. We - then these feats, allegedly committed before us, could not verify and question. And the officers and demobilization rested on these exploits, embellishing them many times.
The officers said so: let the old-timers teach young soldiers as best they can, they, these old-timers, went through such a battle crucible that we, newbies, never even dreamed of.
Well, the rest was already done by our stale imagination and embellished. The officers were very comfortable.
Old-timers and demobilized men taught us exactly in their own way. Without much regard for the charter, law, human dignity and justice. They taught that young soldiers from their training hung themselves, shot themselves, became disabled, fled to the spirits into captivity or killed their "teachers".

After a year of service (six months of training in the Union, half a year in Afghanistan), life in the army, in the Afghan war, became much easier. We became old and already began to drive the young ourselves.
Few could not rise from the knees and humiliations of young service, after a year of service.
And usually they couldn't, for two reasons:
1) Either it was a real child who went down for various reasons, a coward, a physical weakling, an informer, a thief from his fellow conscripts in the unit (namely, a thief from his fellow conscripts in the unit, and not just a thief. Steal from the state or from foreign units or take away something - then the younger draft was not considered a zapadl), and so on ...
2) Either the soldier was very coolly hated by the company officers, who did everything by any lies so that the soldier would not become a swollen grandfather of the Airborne Forces.

To the war and to life in a harsh front-line team, I was, to my surprise, and as it turned out, absolutely unsuitable. It hit me hard, in the truest sense of the word.
At the same time, I was far from being a "nerd", I managed to graduate from the river school before the army, in which there was also some kind of hard demobilization between senior and junior cadets. I managed to work in the Union, on dry cargo ships for the whole navigation, and even for the last few months of navigation, I was a boatswain on a ship with a team of twenty adult men aged 18 and much older.
But, if at the school I was considered a person, and was at least somehow protected by Soviet law, and in the civilian fleet they already respected me as a competent specialist and helped me adequately join the harsh naval team, then in Afghanistan, in the company, I and other young soldiers, immediately, from the very first days of front-line service, they became disenfranchised "Hello, warrior", deprived of absolutely any protection, absolutely any opportunity for justice and absolutely any justice.
My personal attempt to repulse demobilizations did not lead to anything.
In their own way, the fair laws of the yard and the streets in the army were brazenly trampled on by the bitch laws of demobilization. And no one even remembered the Laws of the State. Complaining to the junior commanders was useless, because they were the main leaders of the concepts of demobilization lawlessness, and it was already impossible to complain to the officers on the concepts of boyish honor. Young soldiers fell into the classic and irresistible fork for many boys of their own simple codes of honor.
On the very first evening of meeting the company and my future demobilization of the castle platoon (his name was Sopazh or Sapage, the surname Sulenbaev or Saulenbaev, I don’t remember exactly) I got hit in the face from him, for what, in his opinion, he didn’t supervise the unloading very competently beds from a car (the company arrived from the guards of the fuel depots, where it had been for almost 2 months). I also responded with a blow in the face to the castle platoon commander, and was immediately beaten up by other demobilized soldiers using improvised means, in the form of iron bedsideboards. I was simply not allowed to deal one on one with the castle platoon. The soldiers of my young conscription also did not stand up for me. Both me and them, they immediately and clearly showed who was the boss in the company. After that, in order to cover up the traces of beatings, I was offered to fight to the blood with one of the young soldiers of my conscription, Lyokha Mrachkovsky (or Marachkovsky, I don’t remember exactly). All this was done under the auspices of "knocking zapadlo".
In addition, we have already been taught from training that complaining to officers that you were beaten by a demobilized person is considered zapadlo in the Airborne Forces.
The officers by this time had dumped into their officer's module, and the ensign "K. AT." chose not to interfere. Lyokha and I looked at each other, and began to fight, for the amusement of the demobilization. And you're not going anywhere. Pack law. Only a fight determines the level of respect. Then, of course, Lyokha and I discussed that all demobilized cattle, but such was the life of a young soldier. Then we fought with him several more times, the demobilization claimed that this was the only way to become a real paratrooper fighter. Of course, it was complete insanity and bestiality, but you won’t fight, you will be beaten by demobilizations with even greater cruelty, such as “for cowardice”. In the end, beating each other or being beaten by demobilizations was much better than sitting in a disbat for hitting a sergeant of the castle platoon.
Then I also became a castle platoon commander, although I didn’t stay in this post for long, I was personally demoted by the division commander (more on this later in the book).
Lyokha, under demobilization, also became a castle platoon, in the unit they even put up a poster with his portrait, as the best sergeant of the regiment, which the Motherland is proud of. He and I remained on good friendly terms until we were sent home, and we often recalled our young years and fights for the amusement of the demobilized.

Why didn't the young soldiers fight back the demobilizations? All hazing came from our sergeants of the castle platoon (deputy platoon commander), who were older than us in rank and who enjoyed indisputable officer patronage. The Deputy Commander of the Platoon often created for themselves the backbone and groups of the same unpunished sadists, freaks of years, demobilizations and sometimes even young soldiers (although young soldiers and only notorious ghouls were rarely involved), who did what they wanted in the company, with the tacit consent of the officers and ensigns of the company .
This was beneficial for the officers and warrant officers of the company, since with the help of these sadists they could be absent from the company for a long time (resting in their officer module from the cares of the service) and could lead the company through them.
Officers and ensigns could so much easier maintain discipline in the company, based on fear, hunger, humiliation, bullying and beatings. It was more convenient for the commanders. Considering that all the commanders of the platoon were older than us in rank, we could not give them a physical or moral rebuff, they immediately remembered that this rebuff would definitely end for us with a tribunal and a term.
It was useless to complain to the officers and ensigns, they did not take dirty linen out of the hut and covered the demobilizations to the fullest.
If cases of beatings, bullying, famine or hazing surfaced in the company, then the officers and ensigns would be hacked to death and ranks and awards. Moreover, the further the information about the illegality, theft, beatings and bullying went, the wider the circle of the punished would become, up to the commander of the 103rd Division.
So, there was nowhere for the young soldier of my call to expect justice and intercession. It was unprofitable for anyone to admit that the regiment and division were completely decomposed.
Moreover, they are so decomposed that even the elite, intelligence, were forced to disband and rebuild from scratch, even this unit became so uncontrollable and criminalized. What was there to talk about simple battalion companies.
Treachery, trade in vodka, weapons and drug trafficking (drugs were sent to the USSR in soldiers' coffins) flourished even at the headquarters of our 103rd division.
Where is the expectation of justice for the soldier. Any justice immediately dragged checks and commissions from Moscow, and the traitors and thieves did not need them.

So they shot, hung themselves, poisoned the young soldiers, either endured, or twisted their tormentors and went to the zone, or ran away to the spooks.

In our company, for example, the platoon commander Lieutenant “Sh. AT." such complaints were considered only as squealing.
The company commander, Captain Telepenin, simply didn’t give a damn, he himself could order a soldier to be tied to another soldier with a rope to make it easier to count them. Platoon Lieutenant "S." he was simply afraid of demobilizations and the platoon "Sh. AT.". "Sh. AT." beat the platoon "S." and spread rot, so much so that he, the poor fellow, preferred to sleep in a soldier's tent of a platoon, and not in an officer's module.
Platoon Lieutenant "H." he was always on his own and never got into company problems.
Ensign "K. AT." was completely dependent on the officers, and there was no point in taking the side of the soldiers, although he was more at home for the soldiers than the officers of the company and was in the company more often than the officers. In addition, he depended on his awards directly from the company commander and political officer of the company.
Political officer of the company "O. P." did not want to spoil the relationship with "Sh. V.", since if he began to stand up for the young soldiers, "Sh. AT." would have rotted him, as he rotted platoon "C".
"Sh. AT." was physically very strong. "O. P." was rather weak physically and unloaded in combat gear to a minimum, as in full gear he was in the mountains. Even his officer's pea jacket "O. P." forced to wear young soldiers. Mines and tapes of AGS and bags with cartridges "O. P." didn't carry it either. He covered up his weakness by "concern" for young soldiers. Like, if he, the political officer, forces one of the young soldiers to be dragged in the mountains, to the battlefield, his personal political property, then the demobilization will be less loaded on this young soldier.
All this was a blatant lie. Dembel dragged their property themselves or secretly left part of the combat equipment on the armor (mostly they left extra bags of ammunition). But the main part of the demobilizations honestly and stubbornly dragged everything into the mountains themselves. Young soldiers, even the most cunning, could not leave their equipment on the armor, for this they were beaten and smacked mercilessly. Fortunately, the bulk of the young soldiers still carried everything loaded on them into the mountains, and those who were rather weak became more resilient in six months. This was the mutual responsibility of the officers and ensigns, each of them depended on the others for their weaknesses.
Complaining above the company commanders, jumping over their heads, also made no sense, the officers themselves immediately declared such a soldier an informer, with all the ensuing consequences of serving such a soldier as a potential suicide bomber and a corpse. Such a "jumping" soldier, a snitch, simply had no chance to live up to the demobilization. In my youth, I once tried to open the eyes of the commander of the 103rd division, General Slyusar, to the mess in his division, so what? He was immediately demoted, declared a snitch, and no one began to deal with the mess. So after all, he didn’t whisper in his ear, didn’t name names, didn’t run to the headquarters for a personal audience. After all, I spoke openly about everything, in the presence of colleagues and officers. He called a spade a spade, but did not say a single surname, not a single name. No one personally complained. He only said that looting, crime, theft, drug addiction and terrible bullying of young soldiers flourish in our 103rd Airborne Division. What kind of snitch am I? I served for my own army. I wanted to see mentorship and friendship between front-line soldiers, like in a movie. I wanted decent officers. War indeed. The homeland is in danger.
Don't give a damn about this general, commander of the 103rd Airborne Division "A. FROM." I wanted to return to my homeland and to my subordinates. And he knew everything no worse than me, and even a hundred times better. Only this whole vileness suited him very much. He felt like a pike in troubled water in it and did not want to change anything.
And I, naive, then believed in the Hero of the Soviet Union, "combat general", commander of the 103rd Airborne Division "A. FROM.".
However, below, in this book and in the comments to it, this episode is written in great detail, read carefully.

Afghan war. The truth from a soldier of the Airborne Forces

“... You need to be not just stupid, you need to be arrogant to deny what was ...”

“... When our soldiers are driven to the next war for the happiness of wealth and the power of a state and people alien to us, and the crippled and disabled will return from the next war. Perhaps your relatives. You will surely understand the meaning of this message. And now our young guys have future soldiers the opportunity to read and possibly understand what awaits them in the event of a new armed conflict outside our Motherland ... "

Artur Yakovenko, machine gunner of the 5th company, 350th Airborne Regiment, 103rd Airborne Division (years of service in Afghanistan 1982-1984)

"NOBODY EXCEPT US"

The truth of Afghanistan through the eyes of a soldier of the Airborne Forces
Constantly added and updated.
The described events, remarks, remarks and reasoning refer mainly to the events of 1982-1984.
Additions and updates are inserted in pieces throughout the text, and not just at the very end

Veteran of the Afghan war Andrey Likhoshersny said very well about this work: "... Here is the truth that lives in each of us, and which we are afraid to admit even to ourselves ...". Let these words be the epigraph to this work.

"NOBODY EXCEPT US"

“... Here is the truth that lives in each of us, and which we are afraid to admit even to ourselves ...”
Andrey Likhosherny

CHAPTER ONE: "Landing"

"Nobody except us". This is the motto of the Airborne Forces.

No one except us could and can not perform many military tasks.

No one but us can tell the whole truth.
The real truth about our life and service, about our battles, victories, mistakes and our crimes in the Afghan war.
The real truth, not patriotic tales and boastful tales of tipsy or "too" forgetful "heroes": marshals, generals, soldiers and officers.

I was unspeakably lucky to serve in Afghanistan, in the Fifth Company of the 2nd Battalion of the 350th Airborne Regiment of the 103rd Airborne Division.
Heroic company, heroic battalion, legendary regiment, no less legendary and heroic division.

And it is not just words. The 103rd Airborne Division controlled the capital of Afghanistan, Kabul, the Kabul airfield (the main airfield of Afghanistan) and all the approaches to the airfield and Kabul.
The 350th Airborne Regiment was part of this division and was its most combat regiment. The headquarters of the 103rd division and the headquarters of the 350th regiment were separated by only a few hundred meters. The 103rd division, in fact, was the heart of the contingent of Soviet troops in Afghanistan. The 350th Airborne Regiment, in turn, was the heart of the 103rd division and, moreover, practically did not climb out of the battles.

I took a sip of a very high honor, which, by my standards, I still have not justified and far from fully deserved.

In fairness, it is worth noting that the greatest Heroes of the Afghan war should and can be considered precisely those who absolutely served in Afghanistan in Kurki and with triggers, in combat companies, and all one and a half, or even two and a half years, climbed mountains and bore all the hardships and deprivations of service between combat in the mountains, precisely in these trigger, sapper, mortar, AGS, signalmen and other companies going to the mountains (namely to the mountains, and not just to combat exits) companies.

Unfortunately, I have no right to boast of such a difficult one and a half year soldier's service. Of course, I also fought a lot and repeatedly went to the fighting in the mountains and was a trigger, but in the middle of my service there were also easier months of service than an ordinary front-line soldier of a trigger. Therefore, I always feel my guilt before them, for the fact that they endured much more on their shoulders than I did.
While I was in the position of the regiment, they fought, covering my quiet life with their bodies and lives.
It has always been undeniably safer inside regiments and units. Therefore, I consider it unfair when soldiers, ensigns, officers and generals who, at best, only reached the foot of the mountains and then waited on the armor of these combat companies, who sat in units and regiments, are safe, beat themselves in the chest and say that they are also combat front-line soldiers.
Kurki are real warriors.

Forgive me guys for not being as strong as you.

I do not ask for forgiveness from the officers, I ask for forgiveness from those very few soldiers of the 350th regiment, who, from the beginning to the very end, heroic and difficult service, more honestly than I, pulled their soldier's strap both in the regiment and in the mountains, performing their own labors and duties themselves, without shifting them onto the shoulders of the soldiers of the junior draft, and who did not turn into scum, mocking their colleagues, and beating their colleagues, who did not stain their hands and hearts in betrayal, deviations from combat, in cowardice, in theft and dishonesty.
There were very few such soldiers, but they were, and only in front of them I want to ask for forgiveness. For example, Artur Yakovenko, the machine gunner of my fifth company, was like that.

Forgive me guys. Forgive me, Artur Yakovenko.

We, young soldiers, after training, came to Afghanistan and everyone around, from a sergeant to a general, from a squad leader to a division commander, inspired us that the rest of the soldiers, years old and demobilized, who served in Afghanistan, even if for six months, more than we are uniquely correct and infallible heroes.
We, "who did not sniff gunpowder," looked at them as heroes during our first six months of the war. We perceived them as heroes who carry the truth, and who must be unambiguously obeyed in everything, and who are always and everywhere right.
This was confusing. These "heroes" insulted, beaten, humiliated us, they mocked and mocked us, and we believed that we ourselves were to blame. They are heroes, and we are stupid salabons, idiots who have not yet taken a sip of mountains and battles, preventing them, “real heroes”, from defending their homeland correctly.
At the same time, there is also an absolute impossibility, anywhere from all this mess and bestiality of the Afghan war, to get away, as in the Union. It’s there, you can run away from the unit, and sneak through, and get dirty, and go AWOL, and roll a letter to mom and dad so that they come, feed them with buns and take pity on them, and take them away from the unit for three or four days.
And it is in the Union that young soldiers immediately understand that all these bullying are from the stupidity of those who bully, and not from the necessity of these bullying. In Afghanistan, in contrast to the Union, the war did not give us a chance to understand the reality (precisely the reality, from the word "bitch") of such "heroes".

In Afghanistan, you were always and everywhere exactly and only with the unit. No one came to anyone and no one could go anywhere.

Any absence without permission, any unauthorized disappearance from the tents or modules of the unit further than 10 meters, was considered by the commanders through the prism of wartime and front-line time as desertion, with corresponding terrible consequences.

In Afghanistan, we were confused by the war and the tales of old-time soldiers, ensigns and officers about their heroic deeds in previous battles. We - then these feats, allegedly committed before us, could not verify and question. And the officers and demobilization rested on these exploits.
The officers said so: let the old-timers teach young soldiers as best they can, they, these old-timers, went through such a battle crucible that we young soldiers could not even dream of.
Well, the rest was already done by our stale imagination and embellished. The officers were very comfortable.
Old-timers and demobilized men taught us exactly in their own way. Without much regard for the charter, law, human dignity and justice. They taught that young soldiers from their hazing training hung themselves, shot themselves, became disabled, fled to the spirits into captivity or killed their old-time sadists and ghouls "teachers".

To the war and to life in a harsh front-line team, I was, to my surprise, and as it turned out, absolutely unsuitable. It hit me hard, in the truest sense of the word.
At the same time, I was far from being a "nerd", I managed to graduate from the river school before the army, in which there was also some kind of hard demobilization between senior and junior cadets. I managed to work in the Union, on dry cargo ships for the whole navigation, and even for the last few months of navigation, I was a boatswain on a ship with a team of twenty adult men aged 18 and much older.
But, if at the school I was considered a person, and was at least somehow protected by Soviet law, and in the civilian fleet they already respected me as a competent specialist and helped me adequately join the harsh naval team, then in Afghanistan, in the company, I immediately became a disenfranchised “hello, warrior, devoid of any protection, any opportunity for justice and any justice.
An attempt to repulse the demobilizations did not lead to anything.
On the very first evening of meeting the company and my future demobilization of the castle platoon (his name was Sopazh or Sapage, the surname Sulenbaev or Saulenbaev, I don’t remember exactly) I got hit in the face from him, for what, in his opinion, he didn’t supervise the unloading very competently beds from a car (the company arrived from the guards of the fuel depots, where it had been for almost 2 months). I also responded with a blow in the face to the castle platoon commander, and was immediately beaten up by other demobilized soldiers using improvised means, in the form of iron bedsideboards. The soldiers of my young conscription did not stand up for me. Both me and them were immediately and clearly shown who was the boss in the company. After that, in order to cover up the traces of beatings, I was offered to fight to the blood with one of the young soldiers of my conscription, Lyokha Mrachkovsky (or Marachkovsky, I don’t remember exactly). All this was done under the auspices of "knocking zapadlo".
We have already been taught from training that complaining to officers that you were beaten by a demobilization officer is considered sloppy in the Airborne Forces.
The officers by this time had dumped into their officer's module, and the ensign "K. AT." chose not to interfere. Lyokha and I looked at each other, and began to fight, for the amusement of the demobilization. And you're not going anywhere. Pack law. Only a fight determines the level of respect. Then, of course, Lyokha and I discussed that all demobilized cattle, but such was the life of a young soldier. Then we fought with him several more times, the demobilization claimed that this was the only way to become a real paratrooper fighter. Of course, it was complete insanity and bestiality, but you won’t fight, you will be beaten by demobilizations with even greater cruelty, such as “for cowardice”. In the end, it was better to beat each other or be beaten by demobilizers than to sit in a disbat for hitting the sergeant of the castle platoon.
Then I also became a deputy commander of a platoon, although I didn’t stay in this post for long, I was personally demoted by the division commander (more on this later in the book).
Lyokha, under demobilization, also became a castle platoon, in part they even put up a poster with his portrait. We remained on good friendly terms with him until we were sent home, and often recalled our young years and fights to the point of blood for the amusement of the demobilized.

So they shot, hung themselves, poisoned the young soldiers, either endured, or killed their tormentors and went to the zone, or ran away to the spooks.

In our company, for example, the platoon commander Lieutenant “Sh. AT." such complaints were considered only as squealing.
Company commander captain "T." it was just fucked up, he himself could order a soldier to tie another soldier with a rope to make it easier to count them.
Platoon Lieutenant "S." he was simply afraid of demobilizations and the platoon "Sh. AT.". "Sh. AT." beat the platoon "S." and spread rot, so much so that he, the poor fellow, preferred to sleep in a soldier's tent of a platoon, and not in an officer's module.
Platoon Lieutenant "H." he was always on his own and never got into company problems.
Ensign "K. AT." was completely dependent on the officers, and there was no point in taking the side of the soldiers, although he was more at home for the soldiers than the officers of the company and was in the company more often than the officers. In addition, he depended on his awards directly from the company commander and political officer of the company.
Political officer of the company "O. P." did not want to spoil the relationship with "Sh. V.", since if he began to stand up for the young soldiers, "Sh. AT." would have rotted him, as he rotted platoon "C".
"Sh. AT." was physically very strong. "O. P." was rather weak physically and unloaded in combat gear to a minimum, as in full gear he was in the mountains. Even his officer's pea jacket "O. P." forced to wear young soldiers. Mines and tapes of AGS and bags with cartridges "O. P." didn't carry it either. He covered up his weakness by "concern" for young soldiers. Like, if he, the political officer, forces one of the young soldiers to be dragged in the mountains, to the battlefield, his personal political property, then the demobilization will be less loaded on this young soldier.
All this was a blatant lie. Dembel dragged their property themselves or secretly left part of the combat equipment on the armor (mostly they left extra bags of ammunition). But the main part of the demobilizations honestly and stubbornly dragged everything into the mountains themselves. Young soldiers, even the most cunning, could not leave their equipment on the armor, for this they were beaten and smacked mercilessly. Fortunately, the bulk of the young soldiers still carried everything loaded on them into the mountains, and those who were rather weak became more resilient in six months.
This was the mutual responsibility of the officers and ensigns, each of them depended on the others for their weaknesses.
Complaining above the company commanders, jumping over their heads, also made no sense, the officers themselves immediately declared such a soldier an informer, with all the ensuing consequences of serving such a soldier as a potential suicide bomber and a corpse. Such a "jumping" soldier, a snitch, simply had no chance to live up to the demobilization.
In my youth, I once tried to open the eyes of the commander of the 103rd division, General Slyusar, to the mess in his division, so what? He was immediately demoted, declared a snitch, and no one began to deal with the mess. So after all, he didn’t whisper in his ear, didn’t name names, didn’t run to the headquarters for a personal audience. After all, I spoke openly about everything, in the presence of colleagues and officers. He called a spade a spade, but did not say a single surname, not a single name. No one personally complained. He only said that looting, crime, theft, drug addiction and terrible bullying of young soldiers flourish in our 103rd Airborne Division. What kind of snitch am I? I served for my own army. I wanted to see mentorship and friendship between front-line soldiers, like in a movie. I wanted decent officers. War indeed. The homeland is in danger.
Don't give a damn about this general, commander of the 103rd Airborne Division "A. FROM." I wanted to return to my homeland and to my subordinates. And he knew everything no worse than me, and even a hundred times better. Only this whole vileness suited him very much. He felt like a pike in troubled water in it and did not want to change anything.
And I, naive, then believed in the Hero of the Soviet Union, "combat general", commander of the 103rd Airborne Division "A. FROM.".
However, below, in this book and in the comments to it, this episode is written in great detail, read carefully.
Yes, I myself was part of this bestiality. By youth he was a victim, by demobilization more than once he was cattle.
But I was an ordinary uneducated soldier who flew into the army because of a slovenly civilian life and unwillingness to improve my level of education. The officers had a five-year experience of service in higher schools!!! They, the officers, were obliged to stop this demobilization and mutual responsibility at the root and in the bud, not sparing their lives. Otherwise, why did they go to Officers? For a career? Foolishly?
In general, you can talk for a long time and endlessly.
As officers, our company commanders did not fulfill their duties in Afghanistan, and as father commanders they did not take place. And this is a fact.
And I, as an exemplary Soviet soldier, did not take place in Afghanistan - this is also a fact.

I also didn’t go to the officers of the company, in Afghanistan, in the first year of service, but I was lucky, in the second year of service I managed to get up, and managed to become stronger.

But there is a special conversation about me, in the second year of service I fell out of the general company clip, I got my own “roof” from the regiment headquarters, and even company officers would not become an obstacle to me. True, this “roof” did not even guess about its role as a “roof”, since I never turned to her for intercession and would not have turned in my life, I always hoped only for myself.
Yes, and my so-called "roof" did not favor informers and most likely would have kicked me away from me with a boot in response to my complaint. But in the company that the “roof” was not even a “roof” for me at all, and therefore they once again tried not to hurt or get me, and this suited me perfectly. Let the officers think that hurting me is fraught, so long as they don't interfere with me living up to the demobilization.

Although, in the second year of service, I already got along with the officers of my fifth company. I practically became the same “fabulous” demobilization convenient for officers, like many others. It was even possible to get some help from me for the company, taking into account my position and connections. I could find out in advance when and where the next battles would take place, help me get dry rations without a queue, and help the company in some other necessary everyday matters of life.

The most important truth of the soldier Afghan is that we, combat veterans who went through the Afghan war, still consider the best soldier to be the one who was physically stronger than anyone else, and who, moreover, “correctly” lived "concepts" of the demobilization non-statutory officer.

And the real hero is, in fact, just a completely different soldier and officer.

A real Hero is the one who could, inside all this Afghan dirt, vice, abomination and lies, first of all, remain a normal and good person for himself and for the people around him.
A real Hero is one who could sacrifice himself, his life, his goods, his orders and his career, for the sake of any other people, regardless of their actions, and usefulness for himself personally.

Let him, this Hero, be weaker, let him not always walk clean and ironed, let the belt not hang on his balls, let the cockade not bent, let him wash his own bowler hat, let him not beat or humiliate anyone, send no one to the dining room for food, and did not force anyone to serve himself and work for himself. Let him never have a thick lining on his collar, let his clothes not be sewn in, let him be without orders and medals.

But the real hero was and remained a man who simply loved other people. Who, showing and radiating this love, saved, risking his life, both other people and bastards of all stripes, from death, regardless of any of their actions, only because they wore the same uniform with him, the uniform of a Soviet soldier.

The way a simple guy was, a machine gunner of the 5th company of the 350th regiment of the Airborne Forces Artur Yakovenko. And Yakovenko was not alone, such guys were in the fifth company. They were the best and they are the Heroes.

It is probably right that the real Hero did not need to support his image with the help of "attributes of demobilization posturing." To become a real Hero, one had to be above one's own adoration, mockery of one's neighbors and scum. You had to be an ordinary person. And why does the Hero need bent cockades, sutured HeBe, shiny badges, belts on the balls, prongs in the faces of the weaker ones? Real Heroes accomplish their deeds without hesitation and without posturing. True, real heroes usually go unnoticed and forgotten, and this is the foul truth of war.

Unfortunately, I was not such a real Hero. I was like that only sometimes, but not always. And I am proud only of those very rare minutes and hours of service in Afghanistan, when I sacrificed myself for the sake of others and when I was able to remain a person in the best sense of the word. It is a pity that I had very few such days and actions. It’s good that there were still such days and actions in my service.

This is the most insidious measure that will divide Afghan veterans into two camps for a long time to come.

On those who still believe in the power and correctness of the swaggering, lordly and mocking superiority of one person over another, an officer over a soldier, a senior conscription over a younger one, a strong one over a weak one, and believe in the correctness of bestial demobilization concepts and non-statutory, and those who puts above all the human qualities of kindness and mutual respect, love for one's neighbor and self-sacrifice.

Because if we recognize the correctness of only those who love, self-sacrifice, kind, honest and pure, then it turns out that most Afghan veterans are either cowards who were silent when evil and lawlessness was happening around them, or they themselves were finished lawless scum, scum and bastards, or must repent for all their voluntary and involuntary heinous iniquities. And only a very strong and courageous person can repent of his evil and wrong deeds.

This book is not an attempt to rehabilitate a loved one.

In my service there were both shameful and very shameful pages, and heroic, and ordinary, and funny and sad, and tragic. There was my forced departure from the combat company to the clerk and my voluntary return from a warm place back to my own company, there were battles, execution, demotions, injuries and awards. All sorts of pages were in my biography. You won’t hide from anything, you won’t get rid of it, you won’t wash off, you won’t hide.

But all of them, my jambs, my mistakes, the heroic and shameful pages of my biography, concern only me personally and in no way affected anyone's life, fate or health. None of the Soviet soldiers, generals and officers in Afghanistan because of my mistakes and misdeeds, except for myself, did not starve, did not suffer, did not die, did not perish, was not injured, did not lose his career, did not go to prison. There were, of course, demobilized and morally humiliated by me, it was that I was cunning, tricky and deceiving, violated military discipline, I hit three people (year-olds) in the face at different times, but I am ready to personally ask for forgiveness from everyone, for everything I have done I am evil, and also sincerely repent every day before them and the Lord, for all my sins against those morally and physically offended by me.

Although, by and large, there is no one to blame me for a ruined life, undermined health or a broken fate. I did not commit terrible misdeeds that affect human destinies, health, life, death, or human dignity.

But I can show bills and not to one specific person. For the denial of basic medical care, for hunger, for dystrophy, for illness, for bullying, for indifference, for mutilations, for scars and wounds, for completely ruined health, for a shortened life, for crippled and dead friends. And I can only forgive those who sincerely repent.

I do not consider myself the bravest or the most heroic, but I honestly deserved my awards and was presented to them precisely by company commanders, which is precisely their written evidence.

Each of the front-line soldiers inside himself is able to tell truthfully to himself whether he has done at least something that gives him the right to proudly wear his military awards.

It’s not the right when you were given, that’s why you wear it, but when you yourself understand that you did something good and brave in the war, which makes you worthy of precisely these awards of yours.

Therefore, I wear my military awards with honor, pride and justice.

It is very painful and pitiful that at the same time there are a large number of soldiers and officers who deserved their exploits no less than you, and often more than you, and who do not have awards for their exploits. Good, in my opinion, these are people or bad, it doesn’t matter anymore, but they performed feats and should be rewarded for feats.

At such moments, you don’t want to wear your awards, because it turns out to be injustice. You have, you received, and there are many soldiers and officers nearby who did not receive and who are more worthy, and you walk alongside and everyone thinks that you have more military awards, which means you are more worthy, but this is not so. It is not true. Not always the one who has more military awards is more courageous than the one who has less, or none at all.

At such moments, you take off the battle awards and put them back in the box.

Were in our regiment and more proud, and stronger, and more brave, and more worthy than I am. There were many. And the service of some of them was cleaner and more glorious. That's not the point.

And the truth is - for me it is not about pulling out all the abomination of Afghanistan.
I don’t care about those who broke down, disgraced themselves, made mistakes, committed crimes or messed up, but if at the same time all their crimes, abominations and weaknesses touched only them.
It's for me, it's for them, it's all the same. Neither I nor others suffered from their actions.

The truth for me is in the punishment or repentance of all those guilty precisely in other people's troubles and tragedies, in other people's suffering, illness, injury and death. In punishment or repentance of all those because of whom others have suffered and are still suffering in Afghanistan.

Here are those who did not repent, guilty of grief, suffering, illness and death of other soldiers, I have sealed, and will continue to seal in my work.
And let him decide who belongs to which category.

Not guilty, in theft, hazing, mockery of subordinates, in the hunger of colleagues and subordinates, in the grief of fellow soldiers and colleagues, in their injuries, in their deaths, in bullying them, in a bestial attitude towards them, there is no need to argue and fight with me .

And those guilty of crimes against soldiers and colleagues, the stump is clear, and they will start yelling and arguing and making excuses, and they will look for “mistakes” in my book and reviews of fellow soldiers and they will pour mud on me.

They fight with this book, argue and justify themselves:
- soldiers of the rear, for the right to be on the same board with those who go to the mountains to fight, because absolutely every soldier of the rear, who did not go to the mountains to fight, could always ask for a combat company (they would have been transferred immediately, there were always not enough people in trigger companies ), but did not ask because of their cowardice,

Drug addicts, thieves, marauders are fighting with the book, careerists are fighting and soiled in non-regulation, soiled in crimes, officers and careerists who have ruined their soldiers by mistake, cruelty and indifference are fighting. Cowards, bastards and bastards are fighting for the right to be in people's memory on an equal footing with the clean, decent and humane.

And this book encourages citizens to clearly divide combat veterans into those who did dirty work in Afghanistan, who stole, who mocked colleagues, those who fought and those who are in the rear
sat out, on the brave and cowards, on decent and bastards, on people and ghouls ...

So the ghouls, criminals and cowards are fighting with the truth, so that people do not see the truth, and even real front-line soldiers are pulled over to their side by any means, so that they cover their bestiality.

And in this book everything is honestly told both about the author and about the situation of that time. This honesty infuriates criminals, ghouls, scoundrels and cowards. All of them want to look white and fluffy in the eyes of people, but very few were really clean in Afghanistan, out of all the many hundreds of thousands who fought there. And they don't want to repent.
After all, repentance will not only entail forgiveness, it will also quite possibly cause them to be rejected from their familiar environment and the society of their own kind, rejection from veteran organizations, the leadership of which and membership in which they obtained for themselves with their beautiful fairy tales. They will be rejected both by those who condemn and those who have not repented.

All this is very difficult.

Well, how will people directly ask the next “hero” hung with medals and badges whether he went to the mountains to fight or did not fight, but sat out in a regiment or under a mountain?
Did this soldier write a report for transfer to a combat company?
Did he perform his work qualitatively in the rear, or did he steal, or did he lie down in a warm place. Whether he mocked his colleagues, whether he put his career above the truth and human lives or not.

Well, how will the rear services change the certificate of a Veteran of hostilities to the certificate of "Veteran of the rear of hostilities." Well, how will the government and people listen to the truth, and how will they take away the veteran's crusts from everyone who has soiled them with their crimes and mediocre command in front of colleagues and the Motherland.

It is one thing to behave honestly, boldly and decently at the front, it is another thing to commit military crimes, to ruin soldiers with a deceitful and mediocre command, and to scoff at colleagues.

I don’t argue, you won’t win much without a rear. I have great respect for those who fed me and my comrades, watered, washed, treated, operated, warmed and so on ...

Without a rear, we would have died in that war in three counts. But normal, decent and honest rear soldiers are not outraged by this book. They, too, were often under the same hazing and criminal pressure that it describes.
And they do not ascribe to themselves heroic deeds in battle. And there is nothing wrong with the fact that some can go under bullets, while others cannot, due to their profession or personal health, or poor physical development, fight in battle.
This is often not cowardice, this is a human feature. Some are born physically strong or ready to fight, others are not ready for life in extreme situations.
Both should complement each other and live side by side peacefully. Cooking delicious borscht or porridge, operating on the wounded well, curing the sick, properly providing for the life and provision of military personnel in war conditions is the same art as the ability to win a battle.
Working as a bath attendant, cook and fireman also requires labor, talent and endurance. And the normal rear officers served decently and honestly talk about their service, and for more than a few months I was the same rear guard from 20 months of service in Afghanistan. And I write about it honestly, there is no shame here. And while I was the rear for me, others went to the mountains and died there, providing my life. And I remember it and I know it. Therefore, I will never put myself on a par with guys like Artur Yakovenko, who pulled the trigger strap for all 20 months and pulled it decently and cleanly.
Such as Yakovenko - they were and are taller than me in that war.

February 15 is the twenty-ninth anniversary of the withdrawal of Soviet troops from the Democratic Republic of Afghanistan.

MMG PV KGB of the USSR of the 68th Red Banner Takhta-Bazarsky border detachment

This war has already been forgotten, but many Sovietologists believe that the introduction of troops into Afghanistan was a fatal mistake of the Soviet leadership, which led to the collapse of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics - the largest geopolitical catastrophe of the 20th century, as the President of Russia called it Vladimir Putin.

Since then, the world has changed beyond recognition: the Soviet Union is no more; part of the former Soviet republics became members of NATO - a military alliance created during the years of the Cold War for armed confrontation with the USSR and the countries of the Eastern bloc; the “soft” displacement of Russian speakers from the former southern republics of the Union continues; between Armenia and Azerbaijan, the confrontation over the territory of Nagorno-Karabakh does not stop; Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Tajikistan became oriental despots and rolled back in their development to the Middle Ages; the political leadership of Belarus and Ukraine are cultivating nationalism, which has already led to a deterioration in relations between the once fraternal republics and has served to establish sanctions against a number of enterprises and citizens of Russia by the European Union and the United States.

What goals were set for a limited contingent of Soviet troops in Afghanistan, who served there, how the everyday life of our soldiers went, and how the further fate of the combatants developed, we recall with a participant in the hostilities, an Afghan veteran Sergei Trubin.

Sergei Trubin. 1984 Afghanistan.

Sergei Afanasyevich Trubin was born on April 20, 1966 in the city of Kamyshlov, Sverdlovsk Region, in a large family. Childhood was not easy, Sergei was left without a father early. The mother, Trubina Nina Nikolaevna, was engaged in the upbringing of three sons. He studied at secondary school No. 1, graduated from SGPTU No. 16 with a degree in assistant driver of a diesel locomotive - an electric locomotive.

In 1984 he was called up for military service in the Border Troops of the KGB of the USSR. Thanks to his character and sports in his youth, he got into the sports company of the garrison. Twice became the champion of the Far Eastern Military District in sambo. He received the title of master of sports in sambo and judo. As part of the motorized maneuver group (MMG), the PV of the KGB of the USSR was sent for further service in the province of Herat of the Democratic Republic of Afghanistan. Participated in more than 30 combat sorties to escort transport convoys from the USSR. Was wounded twice. Awarded with DRA medals and distinctions. After demobilization, he returned to his native Kamyshlov, headed a sports school where he studied sambo, judo, and athletic gymnastics with the youth of Kamyshlov. Champion of the Sverdlovsk and Tyumen regions in power all-around. Entrepreneur, currently the founder of Kamyshlovskiy Khleb LLC.

Married. Father of four daughters.

Reference.

The USSR sent a military contingent to Afghanistan on December 25, 1979. The reason for this decision was a sharp confrontation within the political leadership of Afghanistan and about 20 requests from the DRA government for the introduction of Soviet troops. In March 1979, an armed rebellion broke out in Herat. On July 3, 1979, US President Jimmy Carter (US President 1977-1981) signed a directive to help opponents of the pro-Soviet regime in Kabul. Under the supervision of the CIA began the supply of weapons to anti-government militias. On the territory of Pakistan in the camps of Afghan refugees, training centers for armed groups were deployed. The Islamic opposition began to speak in the country, mutinies in the army, the internal party struggle intensified in the ruling People's Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA), especially after the events of September 1979, when the leader of the PDPA, Nur Mohammad Taraki, was arrested and then killed on the orders of Hafizullah, who removed him from power Amin.

Under Amin, terror unfolded in the country not only against the Islamists, but also against members of the PDPA - supporters of Taraki. The repressions also affected the army, the main support of the PDPA, which caused mass desertion and riots. Information was received through the KGB about Amin's connections with the CIA in the 1960s and about secret contacts of his emissaries with American officials after the assassination of Taraki. The Soviet leadership feared that further aggravation of the situation in Afghanistan would lead to the fall of the PDPA regime and the coming to power of forces hostile to the USSR. As a result, it was decided to prepare the overthrow of Amin and replace him with a leader Babrak Karmal, who was more loyal to the USSR.

The number of Soviet advisers (including military ones) in Afghanistan was sharply increased: from 409 in January to 4,500 by the end of June 1979. From December 10, on the personal order of the Minister of Defense of the USSR D.F. Ustinov, the deployment and mobilization of units and formations of the Turkestan and Central Asian military districts was carried out. The 103rd Vitebsk Guards Airborne Division was raised at the signal "Collection". On December 12, 1979, at a meeting of the Politburo, a decision was made to send troops. On the evening of December 27, units of the 103rd Airborne Division and the 345th Guards Airborne Regiment blocked and took control of the military units of the Kabul garrison, the television and radio center, the ministries of security and internal affairs, Soviet special forces stormed Amin's palace, during the assault Amin was killed.

During the period from December 25, 1979 to February 15, 1989, about 620,000 servicemen completed military service in the troops on the territory of Afghanistan. In addition, in the Soviet troops during this period there were 21 thousand civilians, in the positions of workers and employees. According to official statistics, during the fighting in Afghanistan, 417 servicemen were captured and went missing. Some sources estimate the irretrievable losses in the Afghan war (killed, died from wounds, diseases and in accidents, missing) at 15,031 people.

They formed columns in Qalai-Nau and escorted them to Herat, sometimes they went further, to the outskirts of Shindand.

RR: - Sergey, before the service, what did you know about Afghanistan, about the events taking place there, what did you have to face?

ST: - My brothers and I grew up as ordinary Soviet boys, go to school, sports clubs. Since we didn’t have a father, we always counted only on ourselves, our strengths. Mom, Trubina Nina Nikolaevna, worked as a cook in a kindergarten, so she left home very early in the morning, worked hard, worked three jobs at the same time, got tired. My brothers and I always tried to help, we did everything around the house ourselves. Before the service, I knew practically nothing about Afghanistan, there was little information, only in the program “I Serve the Soviet Union”, which we, the boys, watched regularly. But they only showed how our soldiers build schools, plant trees, only good things. In 1982, Oleg, my older brother, was drafted into the Soviet army. Immediately after training, he was sent to serve in Afghanistan, in Kunduz, a settlement not far from the Soviet-Afghan border. He wrote that everything is fine, he serves as a sapper, he has awards from the DRA government. We didn’t even have time to meet and talk with him, I was called up in 1984, and Oleg had just been demobilized, he came home.

I didn’t think that I would end up in Afghanistan, because from families where someone had already participated in hostilities, they were no longer sent to hot spots. Moreover, I ended up in the KGB Border Troops, served in the Far East. But apparently not in my case. I have been involved in sambo, judo, and boxing since childhood. Immediately after the call, he participated in garrison competitions and won. I was enrolled in a sports company. At that time, in each garrison there were such units, the soldiers of which defended the sporting honor of their military unit. Twice he became the champion of the Far Eastern Military District in sambo and judo, received the title of master of sports in these types. The command of the district encouraged - they provided leave. I left the district to my border detachment for paperwork, and there, instead of a vacation, I was seconded to the Turkmen SSR, to Kushka. Now there is no city with that name. Kushka was already preparing for a business trip to Afghanistan. The participation of the border troops in the contingent was not advertised at that time, so we replaced the uniform of the border guards with a combined-arms uniform, received AKM instead of AK-74, formed a motorized maneuver group and departed on our own to the point of deployment near Kalayi-Nau, Badghis province, and in 1986 relocated to Karezi-Ilyaz , Herat province. And so he served as a foreman in the Moto-maneuverable group of the KGB PV of the USSR of the 68th Red Banner Takhta-Bazar border detachment from 1984 to 1986.

My mother was very worried about me. At first, in letters home, I wrote that I was serving in Mongolia.

Afghanistan is a completely different culture, a different religion. We were Soviet boys then, religion for us was something of the distant past, pre-revolutionary, we didn’t know anything about Christianity then, but here radical Islam, their orders remained medieval, especially in the villages. Of course it was a shock for us. Women in veils, illiterate people, dirty, ragged children. A desert with knee-deep dust untouched for centuries - the car will pass, dust hangs in the air for several days, mountains, stones, water shortage, daytime heat, night cold. Of course, they were not ready for all this.

RR: - What kind of combat stood in front of your unit?

ST: - We are border guards, and the main task was to protect the border of the Soviet Union, but on the other side of the border. They served at posts located on the tops of mountains, hills in the vicinity of Kaloyi-Nau, carried out military raids, set up barriers, ambushes. They worked proactively. Thanks to this, it was calm on the southern borders of the Union. By the way, in the very first year after the withdrawal of troops from Afghanistan, there were 250 attempts to penetrate the territory of the USSR by force of gangs of various sizes. The most notorious was the attack on the frontier post of the Moscow PO. Many guys died then and almost all were wounded and shell-shocked. Send caravans from Afghanistan with drugs. Before the withdrawal, we intercepted and destroyed them. In the USSR, no one knew about drugs.

Our mine detecting dog - sometimes only she could find Italian plastic mines.

In addition to the border posts, the tasks of our MMG included the protection of the Kalayi-Nau - Herat road. Constantly accompanied convoys with cargo and water from the Union. "Road of Life" we called it. They formed columns in Qalai-Nau and escorted them to Herat, sometimes they went further, to the outskirts of Shindand. Sappers and cover are moving forward, one armored personnel carrier in front, one in the middle, one closing the column. And so they went from several hours to several days. Then they returned to the point, rested for a day or two and again accompanied. Our mine detecting dog was very helpful - sometimes only she could find Italian plastic mines. The mine detectors didn't hear them, you can't always reach them with a probe, the spirits bury them deep, 50-70 cm. The mine is in a plastic case, it contains two and a half or six kilograms of explosives. Finding them is difficult. The action of the "Italian" is unpredictable. She is "bouncy". A dozen cars can drive over it until it “inflates” and explodes. Unpredictable. The road had to be re-cleared in front of the wire of each column. Spirits constantly mined. And not only at night. They are watching - the detachment has passed, they are immediately putting up new ones.

"Italian". A mine in a plastic case, it contains two and a half or six kilograms of explosives. Finding them is difficult.

They often fired from greenery. The spirits had all sorts of weapons, English drill rifles, old, but they hit far and powerful. You are driving in an armored personnel carrier, noisy, you can’t hear or see what’s going on around you, suddenly once - a ray of light, once - another one. Bullets from the "drill" pierce the armor and the sun shines through the holes.

When I first arrived at the point, I did not believe that the donkey would withstand me, because I was large, and even with a combat load, but nothing, I drove it!

In the mountains, on the peaks where our posts were located, the equipment could not get through, they left only on foot and on donkeys. The donkey is small, the legs are thin, but it carries loads. When I first arrived at the point, I did not believe that the donkey could withstand me, because I'm big, and even with a combat load, but that's okay, I drove it! We went out early in the morning, twelve hours went up, in the heat in the mountains. They were often fired upon. Then a week without water and food, under mortar fire on the top and down to the point. It took about eight hours to descend.

Helicopter pilots tried not to take risks. They flew out from behind a shelter, dropped a waterskin with water and immediately went down, over a mountain from shelling.

R.R. - Sergei, you said "plainly without water and food." Didn't you get everything you needed, food, water, ammunition?

S.T. - All that they could - they carried with them, loaded onto donkeys and went to the mountains. But it's hot out there in the sun. Products are heated during the day, and cold at night - they cool down, and so for several days in a row, they deteriorate quickly. Water is always in short supply. They brought it to us from the Union. And you can’t carry much on yourself to a point in the mountains, they were delivered by helicopter. But at the top, everything was shot through. We are in trenches, dugouts, behind stones, there are usually a little more than thirty of us, I am a commander with the rank of foreman. There should have been 50 people and an officer at the point, but there were always not enough people. It is difficult to provide helicopter cover for landing and unloading. Mortars, machine guns and snipers are constantly firing from the side of the spirits. Helicopter pilots tried not to take risks. They flew out from behind a shelter, dropped a waterskin with water and immediately went down, over a mountain from shelling. The waterskin was torn from falling - how much water they managed to collect, they pulled. Everyone fled, who with what - basins, bottles. Thirst has always tormented me.

R.R. - Ambushes and barriers, you also participated in them, why were they carried out, what was the point of them?

S.T. - These are preventive measures. We warned of an attack by militants. We, the border guards, worked well with intelligence. I must say that our officers made a lot of efforts to explain to the local tribes the purpose of our presence in Afghanistan, some gangs, thanks to such work, went over to the side of the DRA government, helped protect the villages in the zone of responsibility of our border detachment from attacks by other gangs. There are also tribal relations, Uzbeks against Tajiks, and those and others against the Pashtuns. From informants came intelligence about the time and place of passage of caravans. We took positions on the way of the caravan and waited. A caravan appeared - they stopped it, inspected it, if necessary, we detain it and hand it over to the scouts, if they resisted, we destroy it. Correct tactics. When the policy of reconciliation began, they abandoned it, and the losses among our staff immediately increased.

Once a gang was detained, about thirty people, all with weapons.

Once a gang was detained, about thirty people, all with weapons. They took it, and then looked after it all day, while our officers and intelligence officers dealt with their main thing. I think they let me go later.

RR - How did the local population treat you?

S.T. - The Afghans were wary of us. This is a different culture, different traditions, religion. With whom they could interact. The rest tried not to disturb once again, if they adhered to neutrality. It’s normal for the locals to trade during the day, sell you something, and at night they go to lay mines, carry weapons on raids or with caravans. They were not afraid of us. Such is the culture, they fight from birth, the children are already with a machine gun, they shoot quickly, accurately.

The Afghans were wary of us. This is a different culture, different traditions, religion. With whom they could interact.

R.R. - Is there anything that stands out the most?

S.T. - We had a combat episode. We went out to intercept the caravan. The task was completed successfully, the caravan was stopped, the militants were disarmed, an inspection began, and there were bags of money and women. I have never seen so much money: dollars, afghanis, Iranian and Pakistani bills.

It's good that we got out of there. It is a pity that on such unfavorable terms, they did not leave their bases there, they abandoned the people who believed us. Many lives would have been saved both by their own citizens and Afghans.

Interviewed by Evgeny Belonosov

2014 marks the 25th anniversary of the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Afghanistan. On February 15, 1989, the nine-year war officially ended. This war is becoming more and more legendary. Ivan Ivanov sent us his memories of this war. He wrote everything as he saw it himself - an individual soldier from a separate unit of the Airborne Forces. Below is the first part of Ivan's memoirs.

Constantly added and updated.

Additions and updates are inserted in pieces throughout the text, and not just at the very end.

"Nobody except us". This is the motto of the Airborne Forces.

No one except us could perform many military tasks.

No one but us can tell the whole truth.

As before, in the war, he is ready to take the whole blow on himself. For all the soldiers and officers who were called cannon fodder in Afghanistan.

And there will be blows, including from “our own”. This is war.

25 years ago they trumpeted the withdrawal of Soviet troops from Afghanistan.

As a memento of this country, I have 2 wounds, one in the arm and 14 fragments in the head, 3 hernias on the spine, 2 medals "For Courage", the blue one is taken by the Airborne Forces with a vest in the closet, several photographs and sergeant's shoulder straps in a box under the bed.

Something I remember well, something I have already forgotten. Time has passed. I managed to graduate from a special higher educational institution, go to another war in the former Caucasian Soviet republic, and again in an embrace with a machine gun.

Very strongly rooted in us, veterans of the Afghans, and in society as a whole, "fairy tales" about the Afghan war of the Soviet Union. So much so that the veterans themselves and the society sincerely believe in it and do not want other legends and probably never will.

I can say honestly and sincerely: the KURKA paratroopers never retreated without an order, even under fear of total destruction, this unspoken rule was observed sacredly, without grumbling and threats. Also, the paratroopers tried not to throw the killed, wounded and weapons to the enemy's profit. It was possible to lie down with the whole company because of one wounded or killed. Leaving a killed or wounded colleague to the enemy, leaving part of the weapons to the enemy, seeing the enemy and not killing him at any cost - this was considered an indelible shame during my service in the DRA (Democratic Republic of Afghanistan). It was even impossible to imagine that a company or platoon commander would negotiate with the Mujahideen about the possibility of passing unhindered or about not attacking each other. It was a disgrace and was equated with betrayal. I saw the enemy, you know where the enemy is - destroy him, that's why you are a paratrooper. No deals with the enemy. So we were then brought up in the 350th regiment of the Airborne Forces.

Those who deviated from these rules were awaited by universal contempt both in Afghanistan and in civilian life in the Union. There would be no life for such a moral freak until death.

Then, after my service, from the middle of the war to the end it was often different. Soviet officers and unit commanders often negotiated with the Mujahideen, agreed on non-aggression with them, and asked them not to touch our soldiers when they passed through certain territories. When officers and soldiers from the Limited Contingent of Soviet Forces in Afghanistan (OKSVA) who returned from Afghanistan, who served after us, told us this, we were shocked. For us, it was tantamount to shame.

Even now, two conflicting feelings struggle within me. On the one hand, of course, I want as many guys as possible to stay alive. On the other hand, we took an oath: “... and to the last breath be devoted to our People, our Soviet Motherland and the Soviet Government.

I am always ready, on the orders of the Soviet Government, to defend my Motherland - the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and, as a soldier of the Armed Forces, I swear to defend it courageously, skillfully, with dignity and honor, not sparing my blood and life itself in order to achieve complete victory over enemies .

If I break this solemn oath of mine, then let me suffer the severe punishment of Soviet law, the general hatred and contempt of the working people ... "

During my service, the paratroopers also did not like to crawl in front of the Mujahideen on their belly, and where possible, they tried to walk to their full height. It may not have been everywhere, but a couple of times we proudly attacked the spirits directly, to the envy of the rest of the armed forces sitting behind the stones, rolling up our sleeves and puffing out our chest in a vest. Probably, this is how the legends about the paratroopers who never bowed to the enemy or, in spiritual terms, “STRIPED”, were formed.

The last time we demonstrated such courage was on the Panjshir. They squeezed the guys there tightly. They were not cowards, but a psychological change was needed. And we were dashing and bending down to move broke, and we were very tired. Well, the thirty-second speech of the Commander on the radio, that the only hope is for us. We walked in vests, taking off the jackets of the Hebchikov and lowering the overalls to the waist, without RD, with machine guns for overweight. They looked at us with hope and delight. The landing party is coming. The Mujahideen draped like hares, except that they did not squeal. And how we drunk ourselves. Airborne in one word. The Airborne Forces are not afraid of death. We go to full height, we shoot. Well, they helped the guys, and scratched a piece of Panjshir. The heat, the sun, the mountain river boils, the greenery climbs and we, the handsome men, are blowing.

When they drew before my face,

In the distant sky, the devil's boot

Which blinded the shadow of horror,

Of souls bowed to a vain dream.

I saw the wind, I saw through the silence.

And so I wanted to see you above her.

I drank my fill of the damned war.

I learned to wait and hate.

Newborn funnel, child of war.

To the bottom fell, gritting his teeth, the floor of the foreman.

And spreading red from the meat, the snow was tearing,

Someone with a fragment, someone with a high-explosive one, half a company is gone.

And I kept rushing over my boots, and I flew.

And tearing himself to the whole neighborhood, Ura sang to them.

We have so much to do in this world.

I wanted to howl, but from pain I dreamed of singing to you.

Heaven, open up for me

Me through the cracks, teeth - clouds.

You will hatch me there today,

For countless udders of centuries.

In general, I have my own ideas about the “bravest” troops of Ahmad Shah Massoud, who controlled the Panjshir Gorge. On Pagman, in the early summer of 1984, two incomplete platoons of the 5th Company of the 2nd Battalion of the 350th Airborne Regiment, our division, covering the retreat of the main troops, stood to death for a day against several thousand Masudovites, driven out by Soviet troops from Panjshir. They occupied the hill, which, like a cork in a bottle, kept the Mujahideen in a small gorge. Well, the meat grinder went. Artillery fire and bombing called upon themselves. The Masudites have dozens of large-caliber DShKs, thousands of bayonets, and mortars. The boys only have submachine guns and one machine gun. The guys complied with the order completely, the forces of the Masudovites fettered themselves for almost a day, they didn’t surrender the mountain, they didn’t abandon their weapons, the wounded and the dead, and then, after fulfilling the order, a good fifteen kilometers themselves, carrying the dead and wounded, with the Masudovites on their tail, walked to the nearest armor. We went on foot, the helicopters did not pick up the company, the helicopter pilots refused to fly in, they said there was a high density of shelling. The main troops were able to withdraw without losses, the Masudovites were immobilized by a daily battle. Not many people were awarded. The battle was a noble, rare battle, even for an Afghan. Victorious. But somehow forgotten, and never really discussed. I met guys fighting on that hill. Ordinary Russian boys. There was an order, there was a task. Death, not death, Motherland said.

But these are only 2 postulates that were steadily carried out, namely in the Airborne Forces, by the so-called “triggers” (from the word automatic trigger), conscripts and junior officers commanding them (platoon and company commanders), directly involved in hostilities and continuously, all one and a half years of service, climbing mountains in search of bands of Mujahideen, lice, wounds and terrible fatigue.

The view of the company returning from the battles was not picturesque. Tired, dirty, gray, unshaven, soaked through with dust and sweat, someone in bandages, a distant and angry look of inflamed eye sockets, machine-gun belts and helmets hanging from backpacks, machine guns and machine guns thrown over their shoulders. The company column went to its tents, and no one dared cross its path. Headquarters were blown away by the wind. A month of continuous combat work in the mountains. Kurki understood that this whole war rests only on their shoulders and lives. Everything else was around them and for them. Everything ... except food, sleep, normal living conditions, decent monetary allowance, normal security, human relations, necessary medicines, except for well-deserved awards and well-deserved respect from higher commanders of all types of headquarters.

I really wanted at the end of the service that our entire platoon suddenly ended up in Moscow, on Red Square. Exactly the same as in combat. In full combat complexion and with weapons. For people to look and feel. So that the terrible sight of exhausted, dirty, overgrown, bandaged guys is imprinted on the retinas of well-fed and cheerful citizens.

I spoke a couple of years ago with the commander. He now lives in Moscow. Although he comes from a small mining town. And from a mining family. However, with a surname on "ich". All my childhood I played the violin. He also wanted to show the company to the people and the government in the middle of Red Square. In all combat "glory". Thoughts matched. But he was a small commander, with two small stars on each shoulder strap. He is brave and bold. The commander for Afghanistan "Red Star" and "For Courage". I would give him five more times that much. He honestly earned it. Every soldier in the company owes him a piece of his life.

His grandfather has five orders for the Patriotic War. The commander had a few more dangerous business trips in his life, he looked like a bull terrier, a downed muscle, knuckles in his fists in calluses. What's the violin already. And the great violinist could succeed.

Swings on the chest, beats in the heart, a medal.

Silver, cross ribbon, red enamel.

Tank and airplanes, pendulum of war

I returned, Mom, from a foreign country.

I arrived in the morning, sober and sick,

Now I have become so familiar with the Motherland.

For life, the company swings behind your back,

I brought it to you as a gift.

I will bring armor to Red Square,

I will create the dawn for a sleepy people.

Bright - scarlet - red, warm as blood,

I am full of love, I am love itself.

Here they are soldiers. We are building a walk.

Dusty jackets, choose a platoon.

Cheeks unshaven dusk, gray bandages,

Fill the pits of emptiness with conscience.

Ay, my people, gentle, get on your knees,

Children are fallen, you look into their eyes.

The boys of the Country who believed in the best,

I stayed, mom, on the side of the war ...

I stayed, mom, with them and with myself,

On one was left with an interrupted fate.

Camel delicacies stink of smoke,

I'm melting young in my teeth with a grenade.

I'm melting, I'm flying home like a cloud,

Today, mother, I am quiet and dumb.

Today, mom, I will come running in a dream,

Barefoot, small, as if not at war ...

I watched a program on TV, where they directly told how the highest members of the government of the USSR, and individual generals, betrayed the soldiers who fought in Afghanistan, passing on the plans of our attacks to the spooks and warning them in advance about the upcoming military operations. Scum, they are scum everywhere, it's good that they started talking about it openly.

Specialists in Afghanistan said that drugs and precious stones were exported to the Union in zinc coffins of soldiers. There are many precious mines and poppy fields in Afghanistan. He himself threw rubies at the birds. They will take out the remains with honors, they will bury them under fireworks and tears of their parents. Then, at night, they will dig it up, open it, take away the drugs and stones, and bury the coffin back. Thousands were buried all over Russia. The windows on the coffins were covered with white paint from the inside. Zinc was never allowed to be opened, even if you hit your mother's forehead on the coffin. Yes, and submachine gunners from the “honorary” guard with the military commissar nearby, go open, “the law forbids.”

Slavin Igor Gennadievich.
Nominated for the 2009 Nobel Prize in Literature.

As well as:

"... Hello, Igor Gennadievich!
We inform you that the editorial committee... decided to nominate you for the national literary award "Poet of the Year 2012"

Sincerely,
The Organizing Committee of the "Poet of the Year" award..."

"... We inform you that the editorial committee... has decided to nominate you for the National Literary Award "Poet of the Year 2014". You have passed the qualifying round and get the right to publish your works in the almanac for the members of the Grand Jury...
The award ceremony is timed to coincide with the celebrations dedicated to World Poetry Day and is traditionally held on March 21 in Moscow at the Central House of Writers under the auspices of UNESCO and the Federal Agency for Press and Mass Communications of the Russian Federation.
Sincerely,
Organizing Committee of the award "Poet of the Year"

"... We inform you that the editorial committee has considered your application and decided to nominate you for the literary award "Heritage 2014"...

Sincerely,
Organizing Committee of the Heritage Award

ATTENTION!
on VARIOUS SITES there are A LOT OF MY FAMILY FAMILY and even SEVERAL AUTHORS with the NIKOM "SLAVIN IGOR" are NOTICED.
TO AVOID ERRORS, I WARN THAT MY POEMS AND PROSE ARE ONLY ON THIS PAGE. I HAVE NO RELATIONSHIP TO THE OTHERS.

- "NOBODY EXCEPT US"
the truth of Afghanistan through the eyes of a soldier of the Airborne Forces
About the war, about officers, about demobilization, about clerks, about awards and about Heroes

- "The Master and Margarita 2" (partial Scenario of the Series, Novel or Performance)

Synopsis for "The Master and Margarita 2" (Historical part of the Series, Performance, Novel)

A cycle of poems on Christian themes

Little boy, in a birch prank,
Stroking Russia behind the platice with his hands,
Maple prigoluv in impetuous smallness,
On Revelation, in the Kremlin difference.

The elders with torches go to the morning,
From arable lands breathing milky haze.
Whips are baptized over people's backs,
The writhing of the tired and fallen efimkas.

In the firs, on Red, the family of the Emperor,
The look burns on the marble house.
Knock diluting the Soviet tractor,
Sparks of the burnt rainbow belfry.

Glow quiet blissful tread,
Here it is, the Motherland, with bright faces.
Breathes under the stars woven drizzle,
Black lace, white lace.

In the photo, next to me, is my dad. He was very good.

Portal for the student. Self-training

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