The Bloody Veil

Nurmuradov Abdurashid

Thirty second I was lying in such a state. In front of my eyes, like a film, memories of past days – family, friends pass through the wreath. I am a participant in this film. It is like watching TV. Whom I helped and did well, whom I hurt. Then, as if awakened from my sleep, I shudder. The paintings of memories disappeared and their place was taken by bullets, whispering around. I wanted to get right. My hands did not obey me. Then I took the machine with my left hand and crossed to the left edge of the stone. I saw an enemy constantly shooting at me. He was hiding behind a bag. "You don’t know how to shoot", a cruel thought came into my mind. I took a bag and shot. He was one of those two who ate in the shadow of a tree. The partner was dead. My shot calmed me. I told the commander that two were killed and two were resisting. One of the remaining hid in the displacement between the stones and, not ceasing, fired. We were at thirty meters from him. The commander ordered to cover him with a grenade. Seven grenades, thrown in his direction, did not reach, exploded in the air. Volodya Kudryavtsev managed to cope with the last enemy. With victory we went down.

In the dust of battle you do not realize the death of a man. The essence of events comes to you later. When we walked to the canal, we saw that the water in it had turned red. The smell of blood hit my nose. I was ripped. The one I shot was very young, almost a boy.

His black eyes were uncovered. The bullet hit his head, and he lay, hanging it in a canal. Blood from the wound colored the water. I looked at his eyes:

– Why are you here? Why did I have to shoot you? I remembered my younger brothers, my peers. Mother stood opposite: "What did you do?" She asked, and tears flowed on her face. I was crying. I don’t know what force made me lean toward him. I kissed him in the forehead. He has not yet cooled. Someone, holding my hand tightly, raised me. He put a pin in my hand and said, "Cut off his ears". With a mixed sense of confusion and fear, I looked at him…

Dagger was blunt. After several attempts, I, finally, not that broke them, or cut them off.

The soldier, who had only a few days to serve, with some pleasure carefully wrapped them in paper and put them in his pocket.

How I raised my hands on this, I don’t understand. After all, before that I couldn’t even squeeze the bucket, and then I almost cut off the boy’s ears with a dumb knife. Yes, the war disgraces some, and harms others.

Among our soldiers established the custom of cruel, bloody. To the "old" soldier a young one must necessarily bring some cut organ of the killed enemy. When I first heard about this "habit", I was shocked. This is probably the highest manifestation of cruelty. There are a lot of things that I cannot and do not want to talk about. And our bodies were fragmented, and we manufactured the same. The thirst for blood swept both sides.

Our assembly was discovered, and we headed back to the company. Someone cried out: "Lie down!" From surprise, everyone got caught up. The commander said:

– Well, guys, we’ll try our happiness again. – And shot two silhouettes on the top of the mountain. Two eagles went up in the air.

The next day, we were shot from the shells. It became clear that the killed were from there. We usually placed mines under bodies, so we knew that the relatives of the killed who tried to take the body also died.

September 21st. We went on the IFV took to the road leading to Surubi. From the two sides the mountains rise. The boys, who set up on the armor of the IFV, are observing. Upon arrival at our destination, we took positions on the road. There were exploded IFV on the way. Distance between posts is 2 km. We got to the third post. During the day we rested, and in the evening, at nine o’clock, we went to the mountains to arrange a siege. After we built the fortification on the spot, the shooting began. A rocket flew into the air. The Afghan's donkeys were lying dead, but they were not seen. When they came down, they were already far from us. The newcomers were too hasty to start shooting, and all our efforts turned out to be in vain.

There was a waterfall next to our post. On other posts with water it was tight and when we came to one of them to change comrades, the guys ran out to meet us.

– Misha Klykov was killed, – they said. This was the first death of my friend. His body was wrapped in a blanket. There was no left hand, the meat from the back was rubbed and the bones too. The intestines are folded next to them, and the removed fingers are folding to the head. He exploded on a mine buried at the edge. He was twenty years old that day. Tonight we were going to celebrate his birthday. Misha went out on the road with a barrel to get water from us…

In memory of the deceased, we had three days of mourning. All these three days there was bread and a glass of water at the soldier’s bed.

Misha lived in the 19th quarter of Chilanzar. He was the only son in the family. After the end of the service, I visited his parents, both of whom were terribly old. They didn’t want to let me go, they bothered me all around. His portrait hung on the wall. I couldn’t sit with them for long. In front of me was a terrible picture of that day.

"MURDERER AT NINETEEN YEARS OLD"

Fazlitdin Rasulov, 1965 year of birth. From Tashkent, Uzbekistan

– I was a sapphire. We guarded the bridge across the river Hilmenda. We were brought the ammunition and food across this bridge. We had to protect the cars. Three tanks went out every day. The enemy placed an assembly in the nearby destroyed villages. The elimination of every settlement, the demining of roads was achieved at the cost of fierce battles.

There was a lot left in the memory that I wanted to remove from it. One story that happened stuck and often reminds of itself. Scouts reports that the meeting of Afghan commanders was scheduled in the village located twenty kilometers away.

We went into that village. A regiment followed us. Kilometers to six before the village we noticed several houses. Next to them we saw a kariz in the growth of a man. Usually such cherries were located near the dushman's houses. We were surprised and alerted by this.

The tunnels are dug in an open way for ten meters, and then in a closed way. On the surface a hole is carved like a well. In the closed part of the kariz, four more recesses are dug in four directions. Therefore, it is very difficult to hit the enemy hidden in these buildings. One of the holes was covered with a bag of some shiny material. I saw him first, I was alarmed and pointed to my friend Mumin from Andijan. As soon as he looked out of the AFV manhole, the bag moved to the side, from there a man with a black beard in a black turban and in a black chekmen looked and, shooting from the anti-tank weapon, fled quickly. The car started burning. Mumin and I were stuck in the lounge as I sat, hanging my legs from car.

The worst thing during an AFV fire is an explosion, because the car is filled with shells and grenades. In order to survive, it is necessary to get away at a distance. After a moment, I fell to the ground. Striking my head at something hard, I lost consciousness for a while. When I recovered, I heard that deaf grenades and shells were spreading from our AFV. In an instant, it burned like a box of fireworks. There were guys lying next to me. Their faces were bleeding. It smelled like blood, it seemed as if the blood was flowing in mixture with the sage. The soldier, lying closer to me, had ears as if specially stained with thick blood. The captain was lying next to me in a convulsion. He raised his hands and said: "Why have I come, let this land be cursed?" And quiet…