The Bloody Veil

Nurmuradov Abdurashid

Probably, blindness from birth is not as terrible for a person as for a sighted person who went blind in an instant. I want to tear to pieces all those who invented, created these mines, grenades, shells, everything—everything that cripples, kills. May they be cursed forever…

I do not remember much of it. I remember drinking compote through a hose, my mouth probably wouldn't open. My heart ached when I thought about my parents. Mom would have the hardest time of all… After getting a little stronger, I got out of bed and groped in the direction from which the cold air was blowing. I was told that our ward is on the third floor.

"Don't mention it with a vengeance", – I whispered to my family. I mentally hugged and kissed my mother. I groped for the window and put my foot on something. I found out that it was a bedside table. It fell. Someone grabbed my hands tightly:

– What are you doing, everything is still ahead, – he said, trying to calm me down.

– What is ahead? – I shouted desperately. Almost crying, he said, pleading in his voice: "Please, let me put you in your place".

From the tension, blood rushed to my head, and everything around me began to spin. I have lost consciousness. For the next two weeks, I was only put to sleep with injections.

Once, I asked the nurse who gave me an injection:

– Do I have eyes?

– Yes, yes, there is one, but we don't know about the second one yet, – she replied.

It says that it's not customary for doctors to say that. But she, at least to calm me down, did not even say that everything would be fine. I felt very hurt. Out of frustration, I started kicking. Together, they gave me an injection. I fell asleep…

I was having a dream. And every time I try to squeeze something tightly with my wounded hand. Then I wake up and remember that I have no fingers. I want to take a look and try to open my eyelids. I don't know if my eyes are open or not. I cry out. People come running to the cry. But no one can help me.

Two months have passed. It seemed as if it was morning, the doctor dropped medicine in my eyes. Suddenly, the total darkness turned into a white fog. Then the outlines of someone's face appeared. Afraid to frighten this vision, I was silent. Then, trying to figure out whether it was in a dream or in reality, I stretched out my surviving hand, touched it. A hand slid over the warm cheek.

After a while, my attending physician flew into the room, hugged me:

"Things will come right now, things will come right" – he kept repeating.

It was my second birthday. I wanted to live again.

My company commander came and said that he had received a letter from my father. "Why don't you make sure that your soldiers send letters home, – my father wrote. – If our son forgot about the house, remind him properly, punish him". I asked him not to write letters to my father.

Gradually, I began to see better, but with one eye. The face, because of gunpowder and shrapnel, has changed beyond recognition.

I will tell you that in these two months, it seemed I had lived for twenty years. I felt much older than my age.

Shortly, after I was admitted to the hospital, my friend Muhammad was also brought there. Neither of us knew that we were lying next to each other. But we were blown up at the same time. We were namesakes. Doctors cut off one of his hands, and he could not see well because of a fragment that got into his eye. Then Muhammad became my closest friend…

At the end of February, I was discharged from the hospital and bought a train ticket. A patrol detained me at the train station. They checked the documents, fooling their heads. It made me laugh. After all, what a state I was in, and they gave me the "charter".

On a crowded train, I got into conversation with a man returning from prison. When he found out what had happened to me, he chose a good place for me in the common car and took care of me all the way to Tashkent. He was a thousand times better than those patrolling the military from the train station… And now I remember him with warmth.

"CHEWED HIS EARS AND SPAT OUT…"

Usli Sagindinov, born in 1969. From Gulistan, Uzbekistan.

He served near Kandahar.

– For two months, we studied at Termez. We were trained to handle military equipment and weapons. Every day the commanders uttered high words about the honor of bearing the name "defender of the motherland." We became sappers. Our first assignment in Kandahar was mining the road the Afghans used to walk on. I could not understand why they are called dushmans, basmachs. After all, they are fighting on their own land. And we are… You won't understand anything. However, why should I bother with politics, there are big people for this.

The senior lieutenant, in addition to four of his experienced guys, took us, two young men who had just started service. It was after midnight when we reached the place. We dug holes, and "the old men" mined.

When we finished, the commander ordered my friend and me to carry the equipment to the car. We walked about 30–40 meters and heard an explosion behind us, rushed to help. But when they ran up, they saw that there was no one to help, only scattered arms, heads, and legs remained. We collected everything, as it was necessary to send them to their homeland.

After this "baptism of fire" we walked around as if distraught, and could not come to ourselves.

Bloody hair, heads, legs with hanging threads of meat, and fingers gathered into a fist for a long time still dreamed and did not give me peace. The commander's head was split in two, and the eye on one side was clear. He haunted me at night. Seemed alive…

Their summers are hot. Therefore, we began the pursuit of the Afghan detachment at dawn. They retreated to the mountains. The first group turned to the village at the foot of the mountain. In pursuit of the detachment, we climbed quite high into the mountains. Finally, the commander gave the order to turn back. But it was too late, it was impossible to do, because we were surrounded. I had to climb higher into the mountains. For five days we held the defense. The helicopter that was sent to our rescue was shot down. There was very little food and ammunition, four out of twenty fighters were killed, and five were seriously wounded. All attempts to save them were in vain. On the sixth day, the Afghans captured five of us. They blindfolded us and drove us somewhere.