You will need

• Text by A.P. Gaidar "Front line. Passing herds of collective farm cattle, which go to calm pastures ... "

Instruction

First, the student reads the text and follows the events, while thinking about the actions of people and their characteristics. It is clear from the events of this text: children are actively trying to participate in the events that take place in their homeland.
The problem can be formulated like this:
“Russian writer of the first half of the twentieth century A.P. Gaidar considers the problem of adolescents' attitude to events taking place in their homeland.

In the commentary on the problem, it is necessary to briefly reflect specific events, reflecting the main idea of ​​the author - how children act.
The comment might look like this:
“The author tells about a meeting with a teenager Yakov, who needed cartridges. The lad, without naming obvious reasons, really wanted to be believed, and took out a Komsomol ticket. He tried to convince the passerby that he needed a weapon. Yakov is glad that they believed him and did not refuse.

About the position of the author, you can write the following:
“Regarding the behavior of children during the war, the writer believes that they did not stay away from the trouble that overtook the country. Teenagers showed special care for the wounded, respected the military and were proud of their deeds. They themselves wanted to participate in the fight against fascism. A.P. Gaidar is confident that the children's memories of helping adults will make them happy."

The writer of the essay can express his position in this way:
“Just like the writer, I respect the children of wartime. To have the same responsibility as adults, to distinguish themselves by heroic deeds, to worry about what is happening in the Motherland - such behavior should be an invaluable moral heritage for future generations.

The reader's argument might be:
“As a reader's argument, one can cite the events that Lev Kassil talks about. The work is called "The Story of the Absent". This book is about how a military unit during the Great Patriotic War was surrounded and how a boy helped her. The man who received the award told about this boy. He believed that this unknown boy deserved the order to a greater extent, because he showed him the way through the ravine, and then diverted the attention of the Germans - he ran in the other direction, and the Germans shot him. And the scout did not even have time to ask his name. When he told this story, all the military in the hall stood up to honor the memory of the hero, whose name no one knew."

If a second argument is given, also a reader's one, instead of an argument based on life experience, the essay can be considered of better quality.
Here is an example of a reader's argument 2: “The story of Lev Kassil “Aleksey Andreevich” tells about how children independently served during the war years. The commander was a fourteen-year-old boy, Alexei Andreevich, as his subordinates called him. He was in charge of the raft, which they called "The coffin of the Nazis." A group of guys acted like a real group of scouts. They brought information about the Germans, showed the military unit the crossing of the river in the place where the river made a bend. The guys rescued the wounded soldiers and transported them to the unit. Then they handed over 80 German rifles to the military unit. When the commander of the unit compiled a list of fighters for the award, he first put the name and patronymic of this boy.

A.P. Gaidar, a children's writer of the 20th century, raises the problem of children's attitude to events in the country.

Having told about a meeting with a fifteen-year-old teenager Yakov, who asked the author for cartridges, A. Gaidar comes to the conclusion that “the war fell on children in the same way as on adults.”

The writer believes that children perceived the events of the war "more often than adults". Everything that happened at the front and in the rear: the messages of the Information Bureau of the USSR, the heroic deeds of people, seeing off the echelons to the front, the arrival of the wounded - the teenagers felt with all their hearts. Wherever A. Gaidar met them, everywhere he noticed in them an enormous desire to bring victory closer, a desire to commit a heroic deed.

There are many pages in the history of our country that reflect the indifference of teenagers to the fate of their relatives.

A film was made about how four teenagers fought with bandits during the civil war. It's called The Elusive Avengers. Subsequently, they become Red Army soldiers.

The book by V. Kataev "Son of the Regiment" tells about Van Solntsev, who was left an orphan during the war. They tried to send him to the rear, but he escaped several times. The boy certainly wanted to be a participant in military events. Then he became the son of a regiment, participated in combat missions. Then he was assigned to the Suvorov School.

For sixteen-year-old Petya Rostov, one of the young heroes of Leo Tolstoy's novel "War and Peace", the main thing in life is a strong and constant desire to be, like an adult, in the most important place. Therefore, during the guerrilla war with the French, Petya decided to stay in the Denisov detachment. He tried "not to miss any case of real heroism ..." L.N. Tolstoy showed a teenager who could not stay away from military events and died in battle.

So, generations of children at all times wished to take an active part in the fate of the country, did not spare their lives in difficult times for the Motherland, and, along with adults, overcame severe trials. The events that took place in the country were a serious school of life for teenagers.

Updated: 2018-01-12

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Useful material on the topic

• The problem of the attitude of children to military events, their participation in the war according to A.P. Gaidar Tsybulko 2019 11 option “Front line. Passing herds of collective farm cattle, which go to calm pastures ... "

(1) Frontline. (2) Passing herds of collective farm cattle, which go to calm pastures to the east, the car stops at the crossroads of the village. (3) A fifteen-year-old boy jumps up on the step.

- (4) Uncle, give me two cartridges.

- (5) What do you need ammo for?

- (6) And so ... for memory.

- (7) They don’t give cartridges for memory.

(8) I thrust him a lattice shell from a hand grenade and a spent shiny cartridge case.

(9) The boy's lips curl contemptuously:

Here you go! (10) What's the use of them?

- (11) Oh, dear! (12) So you need such a memory with which you can make sense? (13) Maybe you want this green bottle or this black grenade? (14) Maybe you should unhook that small anti-tank gun from the tractor? (15) Get in the car, don't lie and speak straight.

(16) And now the story begins, full of secret omissions, evasions, although in general everything has long been clear to us.

(17) Fathers, uncles and older brothers are leaving for partisans. (18) And he is still young, but dexterous, bold. (19) He knows all the hollows, the last paths for forty kilometers in the area.

(20) Fearing that they will not believe him, he pulls out a Komsomol ticket wrapped in oilcloth from his bosom. (21) And not being entitled to tell anything more, licking his chapped, dusty lips, he waits eagerly and impatiently.

(22) I look into his eyes. (23) I put a clip in his hot hand. (24) This is a clip from my rifle. (25) It is written on me. (26) I take responsibility for the fact that each bullet fired from these five rounds will fly exactly in the right direction.

- (27) Listen, Yakov, why do you need cartridges if you don’t have a rifle? (28) What are you going to shoot from an empty jug?

(29) The truck moves off. (30) Jacob jumps off the footboard, he jumps up and cheerfully shouts something awkward, stupid. (31) He laughs and mysteriously threatens me with his finger. (32) Then, having moved a cow spinning around with his fist in the face, he disappears in clouds of dust.

(33) Children! (34) The war fell on tens of thousands of them in the same way as on adults, if only because the fascist bombs dropped over peaceful cities have the same force for everyone.

(35) Acutely, often more acutely than adults, adolescents - boys, girls - experience the events of the Great Patriotic War. (36) They eagerly, to the last point, listen to the messages of the Information Bureau, remember all the details of heroic deeds, write out the names of the heroes, their ranks, their surnames. (37) With boundless respect, they escort the echelons leaving for the front, with boundless love they meet the wounded arriving from the front.

(38) I saw our children in the deep rear, in the alarming front line, and even on the front line itself. (39) And everywhere I saw them have a great thirst for work, work, and even achievement.

(40) Years will pass. (41) You will become adults. (42) And then, at a good hour of rest after a great and peaceful work, you will gladly remember that once, on terrible days for the Motherland, you did not get under your feet, did not sit idly by, but helped your country in its difficult and very important struggle against misanthropic fascism.

(According to A.P. Gaidar)

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In the text proposed for analysis, the Soviet writer Arkady Petrovich Gaidar poses the problem children's experiences of military events.

Revealing the problem, the author cites the example of the boy Yakov, who ended up on the front line. He asks the soldiers for two cartridges "for memory", but it turns out that they are needed for a completely different purpose. The hero puts a clip in his hot hand and takes on the answer that "each bullet fired from these five rounds will fly exactly in the right direction."

During the war years, children understood that they could not remain aloof from ongoing events, they made any concessions in order to help. This, in my opinion, is the position of A.P. Gaidar.

Criteria

• 1 of 1 K1 Statement of source text problems
• 3 of 3 K2

Combatant zone. Passing herds of collective farm cattle, which go to calm pastures to the east, the car stops at the crossroads of the village. A boy of about fifteen jumps up on the step. - Uncle, give me two cartridges. What do you need ammo for? - And so ... for memory. - They don't give you any ammo. I shoved him a lattice shell from a hand grenade and a spent shiny cartridge case. The boy's lips curl contemptuously: - Well! What's the point of them? - Ah, dear! So you need a memory that you can use? Maybe you want this green bottle or this black grenade? Maybe unhook a small anti-tank gun from the tractor? Get in the car, don't lie, and be direct.

And so the story begins, full of secret omissions, evasions, although in general everything has long been clear to us.

Fathers, uncles and older brothers leave to join partisans. And he is still young, but dexterous, bold. He knows all the hollows, the last forty-kilometer paths in the area. Fearing that they will not believe him, he pulls out a Komsomol ticket wrapped in oilcloth from his bosom. And not having the right to say anything more, licking his chapped, dusty lips, he waits eagerly and impatiently.

I look into his eyes. I put a clip in his hot hand. This is a clip from my rifle. She is registered to me.

I take responsibility for the fact that every bullet fired from these five rounds will fly exactly in the right direction.

Listen, Yakov, why do you need cartridges if you don't have a rifle? What are you going to shoot from an empty jug?

The truck is moving. Yakov jumps off the footboard, he jumps up and cheerfully shouts something awkward, stupid. He laughs and mysteriously threatens me with his finger. Then, moving his fist in the muzzle of a cow spinning near, he disappears in clouds of dust.

Children! The war fell on tens of thousands of them in exactly the same way as on adults, if only because the fascist bombs dropped over peaceful cities have the same effect on everyone. Acutely, often more acutely than adults, adolescents - boys, girls - experience the events of the Great Patriotic War. They eagerly, to the last point, listen to the messages of the Information Bureau, remember all the details of heroic deeds, write out the names of the heroes, their ranks, their surnames. With boundless respect they see off the echelons leaving for the front, with boundless love they greet the wounded arriving from the front.

I saw our children deep in the rear, in the troubled front line, and even on the front line itself. And everywhere I saw in them a great thirst for work, work, and even achievement.

Years will pass. You will become adults. And then, in a good hour of rest after a great and peaceful work, you will remember with joy that once, in terrible days for the Motherland, you did not get under your feet, did not sit idly by, but helped your country in its difficult and very important fight against human-hating fascism. (According to A.P. Gaidar *) Arkady Petrovich Gaidar (real name - Golikov, 1904-1941) - Russian Soviet children's writer, screenwriter, participant in the Civil and Great Patriotic Wars.

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How do children survive the war years? How does the war affect them? A.P. Gaidar makes us think about these questions.

The author tells us about a boy who, during the war years, asked the soldiers for cartridges. "... he is still young ...", but also wants to fight the enemy, like "fathers, uncles and older brothers ...". Therefore, this act shows the courage, determination of the boy. The author also writes about children in the rear, who had "a great thirst for work, work and even feat." In this passage we see a similar example of how children, along with adults, are trying to defeat the enemy.

I love borders. It's always a contrast. I especially love the borders, through which no one goes, but which are front lines, keeping temporarily frozen conflicts for decades. I have already talked about the border between Israel and Syria in the Golan Heights, with its bunkers, anti-tank ditches and abandoned equipment. Today we will talk about places where for 17 years now citizens of the same state have been vigilantly watching each other: Armenians and Azerbaijanis. I want to note right away that no one invited me on a tour of the front line, and climbing there, I actually violated the requirements of the Karabakh Foreign Ministry, which strictly forbids tourists not only to approach the border with Azerbaijan, but even just stop on some roads and already that no longer allowed to photograph anything there. A kind of paranoia, which, however, has certain grounds.

To begin with, when you enter Karabakh, you should register at their Ministry of Foreign Affairs, which is in the center of Stapanakert. Very nice and friendly Armenian girls draw up a kind of "way sheet" for you, indicating the places that you are allowed to visit. And not step aside, they warn. For example, they immediately told me - in no case do not stop by Agdam and do not take pictures there. When I asked why not take pictures, the answer was "There are mines." I did not understand the connection between the presence of mines and the ban on photographing the ruins of the city, but I did not argue. In addition, the girls did not allow me to visit a number of places that I chose from their own map of Karabakh issued in Yerevan: the ruins of the Jraberd fortress near Martakert, or the Zod pass back to Armenia. The girls did not know about the Jraberd fortress at all, and when I showed them on the map, they decided that it was close to Azerbaijan and therefore dangerous. Regarding the departure back to Armenia through the Zod Pass, they answered with fervor that ... there were Azerbaijanis there and they would shoot me (!). I didn't argue either. Too pretty girls. Let them be weak in the geography of their native land, or maybe they are reinsured. Well, why argue with them? As a result, I received this paper -

Looking ahead, I note that the paper was checked only once, in the small town of Martakert in the north-east of Karabakh. I remember we were just walking down the street when a policeman and a guy in civilian clothes came out of the parked Zhiguli. They asked for our documents, asked who we were by nationality, asked where we were going. We wrote down our data in a notebook and released. As for the Zodsky pass, despite the refusal of the Foreign Ministry to allow us to go there, we gave up on the bans and crossed it normally, but more on that later.

Combatant zone

It is very easy to notice on any more or less detailed map of the region. If you look at the Soviet / Russian, then the former, Azerbaijani names are carefully preserved there. This is slightly confusing on the road, since now everything has been renamed, and asking the Armenians of Karabakh how to get to Agdere (Martakert) or Fuzuli (Martuni) is at least not correct, given the martial law, and at the maximum, it is fraught with strong antipathy of the locals residents. So, if your map is Soviet, or "loyal Russian", then the border runs 3-4 km east of the Agdere-Agdam-Fizuli-Horadiz highway. Accordingly, everything that is located to the east of this road is considered the front line. All exits in that direction are marked with signs in Armenian and Russian "No Entry". If this does not stop you, then, as an option, what do you say about such signs -

If nothing stops you, then with a very high degree of probability, a military patrol will stop you very quickly, or you will run into a road blocked by concrete blocks. There you will be detained and will be long and dreary tested for involvement in espionage in favor of Azerbaijan. The lone French backpacker we met in Stepanakert was detained by the military in Aghdam, he walked on foot to the only building in the dead city - the mosque. They detained him with the words "It's dangerous here, there are mines," but they interrogated him about whether he had ever been to Azerbaijan. As a person who has suffered a lot with the paranoid military in Israel, I really did not want to have unpleasant communication with Armenian people in uniform. In 2002 I explained to the Egyptians that I was not an Israeli spy, in 2004 I explained to the Israelis that I was not a Syrian spy, in 2008 I explained to the Serbs that I was not a Kosovo spy. You know, it's very monotonous, unpleasant and long. And the vigilant law enforcement officers in any of the countries do not shine with intelligence, knowledge of the geography of their own states and the understanding that outside their narrow sphere of residence and civil service there is also a huge world full of colors.

In Karabakh (as well as in any other part of the post-Soviet space), in addition to the necessary vigilance in view of martial law, the mediocre Soviet system of total suspicion is also preserved. There are a lot of typical Soviet “no way”: you can’t take pictures there, you can’t stop here. You can be detained for photographing the ruins of some useless barn. Yes, here's another episode. We drive from Stapanakert to the east, towards the Askeran fortress. An airport is being completed there, from where flights to Yerevan begin to fly from the summer of 2011. The airport is beautiful

As soon as I took this picture, two state security officers immediately rushed towards me. You can’t shoot, a strategic object, they said. I ask them the question "Do you mean that people who fly to Yerevan will have to wear blindfolds so as not to accidentally see your flower beds or the NKR flag? Or do you think that there are no photos of your airport anywhere on the Internet And it's not visible on Google? They do not know what to answer, but they say that it is impossible to take pictures of the airport, that the photo must be urgently erased. Okay, I say, I erase. I pretend to erase. On this we part.

Another episode. We are standing on the Agdam-Martakert highway, filming an abandoned Soviet monument. This -

Some car pulls up. There are five men in it, obviously of a military bearing. They watch what we do. And I, I'm sorry, was just about to step aside for a small need. But I understand that it will look suspicious (why am I turning away and shaking something with my hands - it’s nothing but twitching the Kalashnikov shutter). Therefore, I decide to endure, although I really want to. I try not to look at those sitting in the car, as if they are not there. Soon they leave. Excellent. I do two things - lighten up and take pictures. I feel like a fool.

Why it is impossible to shoot the ruins of Agdam is completely incomprehensible. They say that there are mines everywhere. Let's say. But, firstly, the Karabakh people themselves partially settled Agdam, restoring part of the houses, secondly, the city was almost entirely taken away for building materials for 16 years, and thirdly, on the website of the HALO organization (engaged in demining the frontline) it is written that a large part of the Agdam region has long been cleared of mines. And yet, tourists are strenuously caught, in every possible way preventing visiting this place. Are they afraid that the ruins taken by tourists will be used by Azerbaijani propaganda? But this is stupid, you should not think that Azerbaijanis do not have a single photo of these places. Take a look at Google-Earth, there are fifty photos of the destroyed Aghdam, or write "Agdam" on the Internet and you will be given thousands of photos from there.

From myself, I can assume that it is not worth photographing Azerbaijani cemeteries. There are many of them between Askeran and Aghdam. There are beautiful family crypts from the 18th and 19th centuries, but I suspect that your interest in this kind of thing may seem suspicious to outsiders. Why is this tourist climbing to the Azerbaijani cemetery, just looking for the grave of his Azerbaijani grandmother. And then prove to them that my grandmother is not an Azerbaijani at all, but a Jewess, moreover, she was buried in Sverdlovsk, and she has never been to the Caucasus. And laughter and sin.

front line people

Friends, now draw a thick line between the above and what I will tell you next. Forget about the stupid and suspicious Karabakh GB, about the beautiful and funny girls from the Foreign Ministry, forget about mines, front lines and so on. Forgot, abstracted? Excellent.

So, the people of Karabakh are something. I have never met such pleasant, hospitable, kind and sympathetic people anywhere. Although I have been to many places. Everywhere, literally in every settlement, any person we met was not limited to answering the question "Excuse me, how can I get to Tigranakert?", but immediately called for a visit: for dinner, spend the night, talk. You know, I'm not used to this. And at first he was lost. Somehow uncomfortable. They are not rich people, they will lay out the last for the sake of the guest, and I don’t even have a gift for them. It is not good to overeat hospitable hosts, and there is absolutely nothing to thank in return. Therefore, he always apologized and explained that, unfortunately, I was in a hurry and would not be able to visit. They shook hands and parted until the next time. The only minimum that I could do for the people of Karabakh was to leave a small amount of money in churches and museums for the dead, or to give voters a lift. Transport is tight there, a rare minibus runs between the villages a couple of times a day, a lonely grandfather goes - how not to give a lift? It is amazing that it is absolutely normal for these people to walk 10-15 km to a neighboring village. They are in no hurry. Quietly they go to themselves, on the way they have a bite of fresh baking and drink tea from a thermos.

In every small town there is always a monument to those who died in the war and a small museum with photographs of citizens who did not return home. For example, in Martakert it looks like this -

By themselves, the small towns and villages of Karabakh, for the most part, resemble a kind of apocalypse. Everywhere are traces of war and abandonment. It is clean there, people try their best to create a certain comfort around them. But ugly traces of destruction on every corner, wherever you go -

Abandoned amusement park

I confess that I was interested in the question of where to eat outside of Stepanakert. Initially, I thought that people are poor, they don’t go to restaurants, respectively, they eat at home. And we will only have to buy sausages in stores and make sandwiches. To my great surprise, it turned out not to be so. Even in the smallest place there is always a home dining room, or even more than one. Just an apartment, usually on the first floor. Ask the locals, they will show you. There, a completely ordinary aunt cooks food for herself and guests. It costs mere pennies, but it is tasty and always in a pleasant company with neighbors and household members. It looks something like this, you see, more than cute -

Having eaten in Martakert, we took the road to Armenia, deciding to go through the Zod pass at any cost. For three reasons. First of all, because the Ministry of Foreign Affairs forbade going there (and the forbidden fruit is sweet), secondly, it shortens the way to Yerevan by about half, and thirdly, I wanted to test our Suzuki Grand Vitara jeep in the conditions of dirty April weather and melting snow on the pass.

The path through the Zod pass

I will definitely return to Nagorno-Karabakh. I will separately tell about Stepanakert, Shushi, Askeran, Tigranakert, Vank, Gandzasar and Didivank monasteries. In the meantime, directly about the Zodsky Pass, where I experienced a whole range of thrills. To begin with, the road deteriorated immediately after Martakert. At first the road was quite decent -

Then it started to deteriorate

It still retained traces of Soviet asphalt, but there were more holes than actual asphalt. Immediately after the Sarsang reservoir, the asphalt ends. This is a great relief, because the primer seems to be the lesser of evils -

Near the Dadivank Monastery

At some point fog overtook us, we had to slow down, and then stop altogether. By the way, funny moment. We moved a little away from the car and suddenly we realize that we do not see it! I'm not kidding. Stood right here

And now there's nothing. Do you see a car? -

We start looking for her, what kind of obsession? Soon the beauty emerges from the fog, cheers -

We drive on as the fog clears a bit. We barely climb the serpentine, the visibility of three meters ahead. Nothing is visible, under the wheels of liquid mud, fortunately, all-wheel drive. In an hour we get out of the lowland and there is beauty around -

The car is still relatively clean, but the zone of liquid mud begins. Literally a kilometer through the mud and the car looks like this -

Another hour of driving through mud at a speed of no more than 20 km / h and we reach the highest point of the pass, now the road goes down -

Yes, I almost forgot. We were very worried about communication with the military on the outskirts of Karabakh. After all, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs did not enter the Zodsky Pass in the waybill. Moreover, the experts at the tourist forums frightened "You will not be allowed to leave without permission from the Foreign Ministry, you will have to go back to Stepanakert and leave through Lachin and Goris." This prospect did not please us at all. However, being guests of the most famous Karabakh citizen, Levon Hayrapetyan, in his village of Vank (link), we had his cell phone number. We were assured that not a single border guard would detain us, and if there are problems, let them call, they will explain everything to them. A trifle, but nice.

However, no one stopped us. We passed the military post without even stopping, except perhaps adjusting to the same military UAZ, which was driving in front. Probably the soldiers thought we were all going together. Our car was so dirty, including the windows, that it was hard to see our faces. So we left Karabakh unnoticed. Hooray! By the way, on the way they helped the driver of a GAZ-66 military truck, who got stuck in the mud on a serpentine road and could not leave. Pulling it with a jeep was unrealistic, it is too big, and we are too small, also on summer tires. But I persuaded the lieutenant to let me drive. They refused for a long time, they say, a war machine, you cannot control it! To which I explained to them that in three years in the Israeli army I had driven so much through the mud that I could give them an off-road driving lesson. But I was forbidden to take pictures of their car. It's a pity. It was interesting. Who does not know, here is such a thing -

The meaning is this: an inexperienced soldier of 18 years old stalled on the rise, the car rolled back, and crookedly, got stuck in the mud, he tried to jerk up but stalled - he could not cope with the clutch, rise at least 20 degrees. Friends, I'm proud of myself. Literally a few jerks back and forth, the rattle of a clumsy old car and the car drove out of the mud. Spinning all the wheels and spraying brown liquid, we slowly crawled up the hill. There, the officer thanked for the help, adding "... on behalf of the army of the Republic of Armenia." It was funny. We shook hands, then the military drove on, and I went downstairs to our car. On the way, he slipped and his own ass rode through the mud, but these are the little things in life, unworthy of mention.

So, the Zodsky pass will pass!

They say that in the summer it is much easier to drive there: a dry primer, know yourself to go around the pits and do not fall into the cliffs. Autumn and spring are the best time for lovers of a little extreme. Locals contrive to drive Zhiguli there even in the mud, but this is not the best idea. Firstly, they drive in a crowd and inevitably push the car more than once, and more than once, and secondly, we watched about a dozen bogged down cars, next to which sad passengers sat and animatedly argued what to do next. Pleasant little. Therefore, it is best not to show up there without a four-wheel drive car, even in summer. If it rains with sleet (and at a height this is possible at any time of the year), then in an instant the primer will turn into a swamp - you are gone.

Now, having visited the front line from the Armenian side, it remains to move to Azerbaijan and see what is happening there. Looking ahead, I immediately warn you that it’s impossible to get close to the border from that side: the roads are closed for 30 kilometers, immediately south of Ganja. On the other hand, getting to Azerbaijan is fascinating, where they are intensively looking for Armenian stamps in your passport and are very worried, but have you accidentally visited Karabakh? Read more.

From my communication with the people of Karabakh, love and tender feelings for Russia were constantly declared. People tried to completely bypass the topic of Moscow's participation in this conflict in the early 90s. As we know, the situation was twofold. Gorbachev showed much greater loyalty to Heydar Aliyev, and the "accidental" transfer of the armories of the Transcaucasian military district to the Azerbaijanis is completely worthy of a criminal investigation. On the other hand, already independent Russia, today, is a guarantee that Azerbaijan will not attempt to recapture Karabakh by force. After all, it is important to remember that over these 16 years, the Aliyevs have greatly enriched themselves in oil and their arsenals are many times larger than the Armenian ones. What can the people of Karabakh tell you? They are only hostages of an unpleasant situation with unclear prospects.