Stalker Major Blacksmiths attacks what to do. Major kuznetsov mikhail borisovich

Mikhail Kuznetsov, an officer of the Vympel special forces of the FSB, died on September 3, 2004 in the first school in Beslan, saving the lives of children. He was posthumously awarded the title of Hero of the Russian Federation ...

... In the village of Yurovo, Ramensky District, at the cemetery at the grave of Major Kuznetsov, the staff of the Permanent Mission headed by Deputy Plenipotentiary Representative of the Republic of North Ossetia-Alania under the President of the Russian Federation Vladimir Lavrov and members of the Moscow Ossetian community are met by representatives of the All-Russian public organization "Combat Brotherhood", as well as the mother of the hero Lidia Mikhailovna, She warmly greeted the Ossetian delegation. “Thank you for remembering us and not leaving us on this mourning day. I really love the people of Ossetia - sincere and sympathetic people, ”L. Kuznetsova said.

Near the grave of Major Kuznetsov, his young daughter, Oksana, is buried. A young girl was killed by unknown persons the next day after a monument in memory of her father was unveiled in the courtyard of a secondary school in the village of Yurovo. Mikhail's father passed away a year after his son.

The commemorative ceremony opened with a ruler near the monument to Kuznetsov. Schoolchildren gathered to pay tribute to the victims of the terrorist attack in the small town of Beslan. The students of the hero's native school honored the memory of the departed comrades with a minute of silence, reading poetry and laying flowers at the monument to Mikhail Kuznetsov. "He is just like alive," said Lydia Mikhailovna, looking at the monument to her son, "The hair is as curly as in life."

The line was also attended by the Head of the rural settlement Kuznetsovskoye Svetlana Myalkina, as well as representatives of public organizations and the media.

The staff of the Permanent Mission presented the school with the latest edition of the book about Beslan, with gratitude for the support of the Ossetian people.

As an employee of Directorate B of the Department for Combating Terrorism of the FSB of Russia, Kuznetsov repeatedly went on business trips to the North Caucasus and other "hot spots", taking part in complex military and special operations.

In July 1997, during the second Chechen campaign, Kuznetsov participated in a fierce assault on Grozny, and then in an operation to free the hostages during the terrorist attack on Dubrovka. For courage and courage shown in hostilities, he was awarded the Order of the Red Star, Courage and Military Merit, medals of the Order of Merit to the Fatherland I and II degrees with the image of swords.

During the storming of the school in Beslan, Kuznetsov evacuated more than twenty wounded hostages. Covering one of the capture subgroups, he entered into battle with two terrorists, a machine gunner and a submachine gunner, and, having destroyed both, died himself. A bullet pierced an artery, and he died that evening in Vladikavkaz. He, as a top-class miner, was kept in reserve, but when the terrorists began the massacre, the main thing for Kuznetsov was to save people. What he and his comrades have done at the cost of their lives.

Mikhail Kuznetsov has a family left: his wife Tatyana, son Nikita, a 19-year-old student, and granddaughter Nastya, daughter of Oksana, who will go to first grade next year.

The people of Ossetia will be forever grateful to their heroes. Blessed memory of Major Kuznetsov!

The APC crept slowly. The barrel of the automatic cannon stared warily at the sagging rooftops of the village. A squad of armored soldiers, bristling with trunks, stared at the bushes along the road. Actually here, a kilometer from the checkpoint, one could not be afraid of an attack by people. Here, on Cordon, the military suffered mainly from attacks by blind dogs and mutated wild boars. Low clouds covered the sky. Kuznetsov looked hopelessly through them at least a hint of the sun.

Lieutenant, - one of the soldiers touched his sleeve. - There.

The machine gun's flame arrester pointed to a small hillock to the right of the road. A lonely human figure in a dark overalls. The soldier threw the machine gun over his shoulder, but the lieutenant, putting his palm over the barrel, pressed the weapon down slightly.

After all, he will leave, commander! - The private exclaimed with displeasure.

Leave, - loudly, overlapping the strained howl of the engine, ordered Kuznetsov. - The village is nearby. Do not exacerbate….

The armored personnel carrier passed the village and crossed the bridge. An old bus stop passed by. To the right flashed the roofs of the ATP sheds, and to the left appeared the bulk of the elevator. Soon and checkpoint. Once upon a time, probably still in a peaceful life, from this place one could already hear the sound of the wheels of a train passing over the railway bridge, the whistle of diesel locomotives. The wind carried the smells of fuel oil and metal heated in the sun.

Now all this was not. Trouble came to the ZONE. I came a long time ago, back in eighty-six. And then one more time. The lieutenant sucked in air. It smelled of ozone. Somewhere near the "Electra". The officer chuckled. So ... it used to be associated with a thunderstorm ... now with anomalies.

Having passed the elevator, the APC drove into the semi-darkness of the bridge. Behind which the ZONE actually began. The ZONE was not just a circle some kilometers in diameter, centered at a nuclear power plant. This is strange. Very strange. The ZONE is a separate WORLD in itself - dangerous, strange ... and damn attractive. It is attractive because wealth is literally underfoot, just collect it. And dangerous ..., dangerous because you can die here literally at every step.

Hi Lieutenant! - Kuznetsov shouted, jumping down onto the cracked asphalt.

Hi Lieutenant! - Matveev responded to his tone.

The squad of Lieutenant Matveev was replaced by his fighters.

How is it? Quiet?

The bandits scamper. Yes, Kovalev says he saw the mercenaries.

Really? The lieutenant narrowed his eyes, remembering the figure in the dark overalls.

But because of the distance, "dark" could well be blue .... And the mercenaries wear the blue uniform.

Yeah, - Matveyev confirmed his fears. - Three, in blue kobez.

While the commanders were exchanging news, the soldiers had already unloaded the armored personnel carriers, and now they were carrying heavy zinc under the cover of concrete slabs. The block post was located under the railway bridge, reliably blocking the road. It was possible to cross the "piece of iron" on top only in a suit of increased anti-radiation protection. From the old sleepers and rails there was a terrible sound. There was also a dark, echoing tunnel to the left of the bridge, but it was just teeming with anomalies. Only a suicide could poke in there.

Comrade lieutenant, - Private Sinitsyn froze, the same guy who noticed the mercenary. - Allow me to report?

The soldier did not put his hand to the helmet, but stretched out slightly, imitating a drill stance. Everything is correct, there is nothing to point a probable observer at the squad leader. Snipers will not miss the chance. The lieutenant nodded silently.

The armored personnel carrier was unloaded, the unit was accepted, and posts were placed. - The soldier reported swiftly, relaxing slightly.

Excellent, - Kuznetsov turned to his replacement. - Well, what, Lieutenant? Happen!

Happen, Lieutenant! They shook hands tightly. - Branch! Pa-a-a-mashi-inam!

The replaced soldiers climbed into the armor in a joyful crowd. The lieutenant waddled about inside the guarded perimeter.

Kovylev! Lunch soon? - He called out to the attendant, wincing slightly at the roar of the armored personnel carrier.

By evening, the weather cleared up. A light breeze pushed the clouds apart, leaving only small clouds in the sky. The bright red, incandescent circle of the sun was already touching the edge of the horizon. Somewhere on a farm, behind a railroad track, a lone Chernobyl dog was howling.

Sinitsyn shrugged his shoulders.

Freeze? - Asked him standing next to Kuznetsov.

Yes, not that cold ..., - the private responded. “It's just chills, Comrade Lieutenant. Uncomfortable somehow….

The officer chuckled. Indeed, for about an hour he himself had periodically caught himself feeling an attentive and unkind gaze.

What did you want, Taras. ZONE….

Yes, it’s a ZONE, it’s a ZONE, but something was especially sad today ..., - the soldier did not have time to finish.

A heavy bullet, judging by the biting sound, fired from the SVD, hit him loudly in the chest, and the private fell onto his back.

Anxiety! - Shouted at the same second from the other side of the checkpoint.

The lieutenant, who automatically crouched down at the moment of the shot, grabbed Sinitsyn by the arm and jerked to the side, leaving the line of sight. A crumb of concrete slapped across my cheek. The second bullet, already intended for him, missed his temple by a couple of centimeters. A machine gun rattled on the right. One of the fighters in short bursts pressed to the ground the figures in blue overalls rushing towards the checkpoint.

Sinitsyn? Taras? Can you hear me? - Shouted Kuznetsov, ripping off the "Velcro" bulletproof vest.

The private soldier kicked weakly and moved sluggishly. Alive! Already good. So, there is no blood. The ribs are of course broken, maybe the collarbone too. But he will live - the lucky one….

Lucky ..., - he expressed his opinion aloud, lowering the chest plate of the armored man back, and lifting his machine gun from the ground.

Plate…, - Sinitsyn whispered, swallowing saliva. - I put a steel plate in my pocket….

Well done. - Briefly threw the lieutenant, catching the fly a figure dodging between the bushes. - Lie still….

A short burst, with a cut-off on the third shot. The mercenary tumbled across the grass.

- "Smear"! "Smear"! I am a "piece of iron"! Reception? - The radio operator was straining under the bridge. - Attacked by superior enemy forces! There are two hundredths! Need urgent help!

200th! Their mother!

Who? - Shouted Kuznetsov, methodically emptying the clip. - Whom?

He did not address anyone in particular, but it seems that he was already understood.

Kirilov and Lezhnin! - Some of the soldiers responded.

Bitch! The lieutenant gasped.

The enemy, competently using natural shelters and folds of the terrain, stubbornly approached the checkpoint. The nearest mercenary was already some ten meters away. His tall figure flashed deftly in the ditch. So he waved his hand, and a green ribbed ball flew towards the military.

Grenade! - Shouted Kuznetsov, fall face down on the body of Sinitsyn.

It crashed. Clods of earth and stones hit my back. The lieutenant raised himself in his arms, shaking his head. Taras's white face floated before his eyes.

Alive? He asked, getting to his feet.

The soldier just blinked, pulling his machine gun towards him. The lieutenant peered over the concrete block. Where is this bastard? Something flashed to the right. Here it is! He didn’t have time to turn the barrel. A canister shot fired from the SPAS from a distance of five meters threw his body backward, turning his left shoulder joint into a "build it yourself". With a dim look, as in slow motion, he saw the slowly-slowly twitching shutter of the shotgun, slowly flying down a red cardboard sleeve. And then all the space before my eyes was closed by the black tunnel of the approaching trunk.

Tov-a-arish lieutenant! - He no longer heard the long, impartial burst fired by Sinitsyn.

The major shuddered, coming out of his reverie. A viscous veil of memories was still clouding the brain, but the eyes had already returned to the present. He was lying behind this block. And here the sniper hit Sinitsyn….

The mercenaries then broke into the checkpoint. How they bypassed it on both sides is unknown. Maybe through the "piece of iron", and maybe through the tunnel. But the fact remains. The checkpoint fell. Two of the personnel survived - a first-year soldier, who ran to the elevator under a hail of bullets and hid there, and he is a lieutenant whom the attackers considered killed. Two support armored personnel carriers arrived half an hour later, when the mercenaries had already cleared the checkpoint and disappeared. As it turned out, they were frightened off by neutral stalkers who made a march from the village and made it to the very end of the battle. Maybe it was their reckless act that he, the then lieutenant, owed his life.

More than a year has passed since that memorable battle. Kuznetsov was helped by hospitals, then throughout the ZONE. Received a captain, and almost immediately a major. They grow quickly in the ZONE ... or die quickly. He was lucky - the first fell out. And now they again threw me at this checkpoint.

Comrade Major? - The soldier repeated, seeing that the commander, although he opened his eyes, did not react to him in any way.

What? - Waking up, he finally turned around.

Someone is walking there ... from the side of the village.

The soldier was young, not yet properly fired upon, from the last replenishment.

Outsider on the highway! - The fighter stretched out. - Comes from the side of the village. The weapon is not visible.

Come on, - threw the major, bending around the soldier and rushing forward first.

Indeed, on the way, with a light gait, a man was approaching the checkpoint, dressed in the usual encephalitis and frayed jeans. The face from under the hood was hard to see. The stalker stopped when he saw the sentry's warning gesture. Then he turned his gaze to the officer standing next to him. Kuznetsov sighed - well, where are they all going? Aloud, he shouted out - What do you want, stalker? If you want to pass, come here, we will talk. But no, get out of here in an amicable way.

The stranger came closer, stopping a couple of meters in front of the major, and threw the hood of his jacket over his head.

No entry here, stalker. - The major issued a phrase on duty, looking at the haggard, thin face.

The stranger looked stubbornly.

But you can't! - It is not clear why Kuznetsov was suddenly amused. And after a couple of seconds he suddenly added. - But if you really want to ... then you can. For example, for five hundred money.

The figure he named was a penny for any old-timer, but weighty enough for a beginner.

Here you go, ”the stalker simply responded, taking out of his pocket a“ twist ”of hundreds of pieces of paper, apparently prepared in advance and tied with an elastic band.

The major grunted without counting, and thrust a thin tube into his unloading pocket.

Now listen here, ”he said, slightly lowering his voice. - We pretend for an hour that apart from mosquitoes and butterflies, nothing fluttered here. And then do not blame me ....

The guy looked at the officer for several long seconds in silence, the Major had already decided that he would have to explain the state of affairs to him more clearly, when the stalker simply nodded his head and stepped past.

See you, - he threw on the move.

Kuznetsov then stared at the back of the stranger moving away from the checkpoint for some time.

Green grass spread softly under the soles. Heel to toe, heel to toe. Oops! Slightly to the right. On the left, the grass is crumpled in a strange way - as if someone was turning a log in a circle. And the spray is red on the grass. Bloody feathers are scattered all over the area. The bird carousel lurked.

These are only beginners on the roads, and experienced ones are always on the sidelines. Here, the sniper is hindered, and the anomalies on the grass and bushes are better visible.

The fox was in no hurry. Where to? He slipped through the dark valley. He walked along such paths that no one else knows about. On the way, I came across a couple of gizmos, of which the most valuable turned out to be a "battery" - an artifact that diverts "electra" discharges to the side. A good thing ... he will think ten times more whether to sell it or keep it for himself.

On the opposite side of an abandoned forest road, a small farm of one house and a half-crumbling barn floated by. The glow of a fire flickered through the windows. The stalker decided not to risk it, and slipped past with a nimble snorkel. A little further I went into the forest, cutting off the road. From weapons only Kalash, but a sawn-off shotgun. And he did not want to meddle in an incomprehensible house.

Contrary to all the rules, his PDA was turned off. The fox preferred natural senses over an electronic prompt. Intuition has more than once helped him out where other stalkers, in equipment stuffed with electronics, were bent over not for a penny. And the PDA is a twofold thing, and you seem to see everyone, but everyone can track you using it. Nafig! And for orientation on the terrain and an old, shabby at the folds "two hundred" will do. He switched on his handheld periodically, looking into the mailbox and fetching the necessary information from spam. So a message came from my brother recently - "Gray - to Fox: one friend asked to meet a group of stalkers who dug up Shooter's cache, I will be at the Dump, if anything - come."

The fox froze, listening. On the left, about three hundred meters away, is an abandoned railway track, which, as it were, delimited the ZONE and the non-zone, crossing the Cordon in half. Of course, mutated dogs and boars sometimes came across on the other side, but compared to the rest of the ZONE, these were children's toys.

Ahead there was a small hollow, in the middle of which it was incomprehensible how the skeleton of a truck had been rusted. Probably even earlier it was impossible to get here. Anomalies nested around, and as a result, new artifacts periodically appeared. He had already looked after this place for a long time, visited constantly. And he always took one, two with him.

And this time, between the two "meat grinders" lurked "a piece of meat". Keenly listening to himself, the Fox moved slowly forward. One step, one more step. Nut forward. Purely. Step. A little step. Lift the nut, send on .... Fuya yourself! Bzdyn! The cab of the truck responded loudly. Rust fell. And at the same moment, from behind the dirty green carcass, a bark and squeal was heard.

Ma-a-at! - Fox breathed.

Blind dogs. A pack of half a dozen individuals jumped out to the left. They lie that dogs are blind, they are quite sighted, but small squinted eyes are by no means responsible for searching for prey. "Blind" dogs feel the victim's emotions - fear, panic. That is why they rarely attack confident, calm fighters.

And now, the presence of anomalies around and the surprise played a bad joke with the Fox. A burst of adrenaline spurred the pack, and the dogs rushed forward. The first two immediately soared into the air with a squeal and whirled around, senselessly thrashing their paws. Two more turned sharply to the side and ran away. And only one, miraculously slipping between the anomalies, continued to rush forward. The fox, not moving from his place - his own dear, raised his machine gun and pulled the trigger. A burst of three rounds barked briefly. On the run, the dog poked its bloody muzzle into the grass, and drove by inertia for a couple more meters, ridiculously lifting its sacrum.

Fu-oo-oo ..., - the stalker gasped, watching the shabby sides flashing in the bushes. - No, these are no longer sticking out.

Throwing Kalashnikovs behind his back, he, continuing to mow his gaze towards the dogs, got close to the “piece of meat” and neatly picked up the artifact. There was still an equally dangerous way back - from the anomalous field. Again, the nuts and bolts that had been stored in advance were used.

After passing the "mined" area, the Fox sighed relaxed. And as it turned out, in vain. The lurking flock, about which he had already forgotten, flew out of the bushes and rushed to him with the whole pack. Feverishly jerking down the fuse, the stalker gave a long, belly line, hoping to scare the creatures more than damage them. The dogs scattered, but two, or the most daring, or the most stupid, headlong continued to rush forward. The machine gun fell silent. The last bullet successfully hit one of the blind dogs in the shoulder, knocking her to the ground. The second, soaring into the air, aimed its fangs directly at his throat.

All the Fox managed to do was throw up the machine gun, protecting his face. Flakes of saliva covered his eyes, a heavy carcass piled all over his body, choking his breath. The stalker fell, his legs trying to throw off the mutant. What the others were doing, he did not see, but he did not even hope that they would scatter.

La-i-i-yat! - The fox finally managed to throw the dog aside, however, at the cost of losing his weapon. The faithful Kalash remained in the dog's mouth.

Tearing a sawed-off shotgun from behind, a charge of buckshot blew off the head of the rising creature. He unloaded the second barrel in the direction of the circling dogs and ran. Then, analyzing the situation, he cursed himself for panic, for the loss of a machine gun, for being banally frightened. But now, the Fox was just running. Without thinking, without looking back. Hearing behind the back the hot, hoarse breathing of the pack.

On the run, I reloaded the sawn-off shotgun, scattering several rounds along the way.

How this bastard got ahead, he did not understand. But, a huge creature - no, not a blind dog, but a Chernobyl dog - bluish black, with fangs sticking out of an unclosed mouth, grabbed his side, pulling out shreds of overalls, skin and meat. The fox screamed, barely standing on his feet, and with all his foolishness hacked the head of the sawn-off handle along the scarred muzzle. The finger slipped off and a stray shot struck the air. The "mole rats" who had approached were again rushed in different directions. And the Chernobyl mutant only closed his jaws more tightly and rested his front paws on the stalker's thigh.

The fox spun, hissing with pain, and intercepting the sawn-off shotgun. He planted the second jacan right at the withers of the damned creature. Blood splattered, splattering his chest, arms, face. The dog's legs broke, and he hung, tightly jammed his jaw. The stalker still could not resist and fell on top of him. Breaking yellow teeth, Fox hammered the barrel of the sawn-off shotgun into the mutant's mouth and, acting like a lever, nevertheless freed his long-suffering side.

The first thing he did, standing up on bending legs, was breaking the double-barreled gun, and threw the spent cartridges onto the grass. Two more brass cylinders took their place. Having fired for an ostrasse in the direction of the circling flock, the Fox ran again. Rather, he tried. Wild pain twisted my ribs and side. So, holding onto the slippery, bloody palms of the twisting tree trunks, he hobbled on. Get to the ruins at the edge of the road. There are only walls from one house, but the second one is quite useful as a refuge. There is even an attic and, most importantly, a staircase to this attic. No dog can reach him there. And now, while mutants are tearing the body of a recent brother to shreds, he has a very tangible chance for this.

He got to the ruins, but the Fox did not have enough strength to climb up. In the delirium that began, he even confused the houses, and broke into the one from which only two and a half brick walls remained. Falling to one side, he crumpled on the dirty floor. A PDA fell out of a torn suit pocket. Schance! Last….

With disobedient fingers, he grabbed the device and poked the activation button. When the screen lit up, he, poorly thinking, chose the last contact and activated the speakerphone.

Sidorovich, - the stalker croaked. - Help me out, huckster ..., khan to me.

Fox? Are you?

A distant howl was heard from behind the wall.

I ..., - the stalker whispered, almost losing consciousness. - I'm on the Cordon, for a piece of iron. Injured. And the dogs on the tail. Sidorovich, help is needed….

Understood. - The merchant interrupted him. - Now I will track you.

Faster. ”The howl was getting closer. - I have a "battery" ...

Okay, Fox. There is one guy in your area. I will contact him. Hold on.

I'm holding on ..., - the Fox squeezed out of himself, dropping his head on the rotten floor and losing consciousness.

He woke up feeling a short prick in his thigh. The gloomy guy in the shabby encephalitis threw aside the emptied syringe-tube. Nearby were scraps of packaging from a dressing bag and shreds of bloody cotton wool. The side of the Fox was tied with a tight bandage.

I'm from Sidorovich. - The stalker said, unwrapping the rest of the bandages. - He said you can help me….

There was a short bark and whine right behind the brick wall. The fox shuddered. The stalker, pulling out the sawn-off shotgun from under the floor, rushed out. The first shot crashed. A second later. There was a wild screech in response. The fox, groaning, got up, feeling a pleasant languor from the injected drug pouring over his whole body. He grabbed his weapon soaked in blood and saliva from the floor. Having broken, I was convinced of the presence of cartridges and froze against the wall, unable to go outside. From the street one could already hear the frequent clapping of "Makarov". Here, one of the dogs, jumping over the stub of the wall, flew into the room. The fox, without aiming (what is aiming at one and a half meters?), Unloaded one of the barrels into the bald side. The thing was thrown across the room.

The shooting in the street died down. While reloading the pistol on the move, his savior returned to the destroyed building.

Thanks, - the Fox gasped.

Fine. - The Fox responded. - So, now I'm listening to you carefully.

The merchant said you have information about the Gunslinger.

The fox frowned involuntarily.

And why is everyone interested in them lately? - He thought, but uttered it out loud. - Well, to say that I knew him personally would be a lie, there was no such thing. True, there is some experience of "communication": once a group of my guys fired at it. Nobody was hurt - they were obviously waiting for others, so they dispersed further peacefully. - The fox thought a little, remembering. - Poured each other through the ravine and parted. Gray, my brother, now in the hangar at the Dump - I'll throw off the coordinates, talk to you. He knows more about the Strelka.

The stalker nodded, looking at the buzzing CCP that responded.

Be careful at the exit, - continued the Fox, putting away his handheld. “A bunch of bandits have settled there. And, hey, buddy, you've already helped me out twice, and I don't forget such things. Here take ..., so what is rich.

A small, disheveled wad of money fell into the palm of the stalker. He looked into the eyes of the rescued for a few seconds, and then put it in his pocket.

Thanks. What interesting can you tell?

I would now wait for a lunch break at these krasapets in uniform ..., - Fox sighed. - It is useless to hang around here, on the mainland it is necessary, but these are not allowed, so they are overwhelmed! I'm not the only one to wash myself on the way out, but I still can't slip through.

Casting a short glance at the face of the stalker, the Fox saw that his moaning was of little interest to him. The guy didn't even look at him, turning his head towards the road. However, this often happens in the ZONE - they met by chance, accidentally helped each other, accidentally fled to random directions….

The chase had been going on for more than three days. The droplet left the forest. Leaving the well-worn roads behind, the fugitive "thief in law" Sergei Biryukov, nicknamed Kapelka, turned down a narrow path and tried to dissolve in the dense Chernobyl forest.

Well, he was understandable. A detachment of "hunters" from the department of execution of punishments surrounded him in full. Several experienced employees of the detachment, specially trained to catch fugitive criminals, sat on his tail back in Zalesye. The strange passenger was remembered by the conductor of the regular bus, and the cunning grannies selling seeds at the bus station indicated the direction in which the suspicious citizen left the town.

UAZ and "Gazelle" had to be abandoned on a country road under the supervision of drivers, and they themselves had to go deeper into the forest. At first, it was an ordinary, unremarkable forest - birch, aspen, rare inclusions of conifers. Birds were singing among the trees, a stunned black grouse flew out from under the feet of Bes. Barrier - the commander of the detachment saw the gray back of a hare flashing among the trees.

Ensign Renat Khasunaliev - call sign Mongol, the best tracker of the detachment, clearly "copied" the traces of the fugitive from last year's foliage. And the "hunters" were moving at a confident, vigorous trot. So, running, they slipped through an incomprehensible plowed strip of land, on which traces of tarpaulin boots were clearly imprinted, a torn barbed wire hanging in rags on fallen posts, and again disappeared into the forest.

Bes, in the world - Senior Lieutenant Pavel Bessonov, still had a glimpse of suspicion, but he did not have time to voice it. The steep climb up the cliff forced me to concentrate on where to put my feet, shod in ankle boots, and later I simply forgot.

Drawn by the coolness. There was a splash of water. The Mongol, who was the first to descend into a small depression, suddenly froze, raising his palm up in warning. The detachment stopped instantly, and then squirmed to the sides, leaving the trail and taking up positions. A second later, only the Pathfinder and the Zaslon, Captain Kurnashov, remained in the open space. The latter, tensely gripping the machine gun in his hands, looked inquiringly at Khusanaliev, waiting for an explanation. The Mongol sat down, picked the wet clay on the bank of the stream with his finger and, turning, beckoned the commander to him. Now the two of them were staring at something invisible to the others.

Bes saw all this out of the corner of his eye, controlling his sector of fire over the AKSU bolt carrier. It will be necessary - they will call, show, ask for advice. And it is not necessary, so he will still find out later what made the tracker give a warning gesture. Only now did the senior lieutenant notice the tree trunks twisted by an unknown force, the strange shade of the bark and the leaves slightly withered out of season. The impression was that the surrounding fauna was somehow terminally ill.

There was a short whistle - the commander was gathering a detachment. Having once again squinted at the bumpy side of a pine tree standing nearby, Pavel climbed back onto the path and went down to the stream.

When he approached, the Mongol silently pointed to the footprints imprinted on the wet clay - a large, forty-fourth size, a footprint worn down on the heel of a boot, and almost one and a half to two times the footprint, which looks like….

Your nale-e-evo, - Bes stretched out in amazement.

Most of all, the trail resembled a large, simply huge, bare human foot. But, it was exactly like it, since the shape of the foot was not quite correct, and the spread-out fingerprints ended in three-centimeter narrow grooves. With claws?

Bigfoot? - Lieutenant Zakharov whistled in surprise. - Only this was not enough!

The screen shook his head.

I am more inclined to think that it is Droplet who is pinned up. He decided to intimidate us.

It's funny, - stated Tomat - a large, red-faced senior warrant officer Ivanov. - Here he has nothing more to do! And he doesn't have much time for such hoaxes. Rusik! How far are we behind?

Ruslan Khasunaliev, already stepping aside and carefully studying the bushes on the opposite bank of the stream, turned around.

For two hours, though, maybe less. The trail is not even dry yet.

So I say, ”Ivanov continued to bend his line. - He should be draping with all his might, and not drawing horror stories on the sand!

Don't fuss, Tomato. - Bes raised an eyebrow mockingly. - What do you mean to say that our Drop and Bigfoot ran one after another here? Mongol, what do you think?

The trace is real, - the ensign who approached gloomily said, showing some kind of mucus on the tip of the knife. - What kind of beast I left him I won't say, but that's what I found there, on the branches….

Ha ha! - Ivanov rumbled. - A droplet blew his nose, and you show us his snot?

You fool, Tomato, - Ruslan responded without malice. - It's not snot ... more like sticky saliva. And there is a lot of her there - the department of jerks is not enough to run your nose so much.

The senior warrant officer stepped back in disgust, looking incredulously at the stained knife.

Are you going to eat stew from him later?

No, this knife is for work, I have a spoon for food. - Calmly retorted Mongol.

Stop talking! - Suddenly Zaslon, who had been silent before, came to life. - We moved on. The order is the same - Mongol is in front, Ivanov closes!

And the eight "hunters", having rounded the "snotty" bushes in an arc, climbed up the slope of the stream and again stood on the trail.

The demon ran, steadily shifting his legs, keeping Zakharov's broad back in sight, and muttering to himself a child's counting rhyme, inhaling and exhaling to its rhythm - “Ho-ro-sho-zhi-veet-in-light-te-we-ni- Pooh-u-not-go-on-and-de-ti-on-la-pooh ... ". An uncomplicated rhyme helped to save breath and keep the speed of running. True, behind his back, a little knocking down, Ivanov puffed heavily, but Pavel tried not to pay attention to him.

The twisted forest still stretched along the path. In addition, Bes noticed that all the living creatures had disappeared somewhere. Even the birds fell silent. Gradually, the vegetation began to part. Now the tree trunks were no longer so dense, there were more bushes. And, in the end, the chain of "hunters" jumped out to the edge. Right from the edge of the forest, the foot of a gentle hill, covered with sparse bushes, began. Only at the very top, in the light of the setting sun, the dark crown of a tall pine tree stood out in contrast. Long, bare trunk, and a cap of branches at the crown. A lonely human figure loomed at the base of the tree.

There is! - Exhaled Mongol, raising his hand.

Fas! - In an incomprehensible frenzy, shouted the captain, the first and rushing up.

The rest of the crowd, no longer caring about the order, rushed after. Perhaps they were simply exhausted by the long chase, and wanted to finish it as soon as possible.

Feeling how the small stones, densely dotting the slope, cut into the lugs of the sole, Bessonov stubbornly climbed up. He even overtook everyone. When no more than ten meters remained to the top, Pavel glanced back - the rest were twenty meters behind, and far below, slowly, he climbed the Mongol mountain.

Sly-ass Tajik, - Bes chuckled to himself, making the last dash.

Of course, the tracker is not told "face", the tracker is told - "track."

Droplet, naturally, noticed the pursuit and did not wait for it. The reverse side of the hill was flatter, but also longer. Now his back flashed somewhere in the middle of the slope. The criminal dexterously jumped between rare bushes and stones, arms outstretched wide for balance.

Biryukov, stop! - Bes shouted, throwing up his machine gun, and firing a short burst over the head of the fugitive. - Next to defeat!

Heavy, ragged breathing made it difficult to aim, the front sight danced in front of my eyes, not wanting to be combined with the back of the criminal. Actually, he was only going to scare Droplet, and therefore hesitated, fearing to catch him. Biryukov, not paying attention to the shooting, continued to run on.

Well, bitch! - Bes exhaled, turning the barrel slightly to the left and releasing the second burst. - Stand!

Suddenly, behind a tree trunk, something roared, and out of the corner of his eye Pavel noticed some movement. Two red lights flashed. And the next moment, the senior lieutenant thought that the air itself moved towards him with the speed of a locomotive. Still not realizing anything, he rushed to the side with a movement learned to automatism, turning his weapon inside out. From an awkward position, in a roll, he fired. Another, longer line rumbled nearby.

A tangle of bloody tentacles flashed before my eyes, and in the next second a huge black-and-brown carcass fell on Bes, crushing him under her. Flexible snakes flooded across the face, mucus mixed with blood poured into the mouth and eyes. Pavel tried to scream, but choked on the stinking liquid and lost consciousness.

A wild cough tore up his throat, half-digested stew filled his mouth and, generously flavored with bile, flooded the nasopharynx.

Turn your side, it will choke, - he heard a familiar voice.

Strong hands swirled his pliable body, and vomit poured into the ground in a stream. The demon coughed again and pushed limply with his hand, trying to free himself from the restraining palms.

Don't bother, ”they said roughly over the ear. Now Pavel recognized Tomato's voice. - Come on vomit….

He decided to follow the advice and completely relaxed his stomach.

What was it? - He croaked a minute later, rinsing his mouth with water and spitting.

And hell knows, - Lieutenant Eremin responded. - We haven't figured it out yet. Look for yourself, lies next to it.

The demon turned around and almost yelled. Water poured into his mouth gushed through his nose, and he began to gasp again. Nearby lay the same carcass that almost crushed him. The soldiers of the detachment crowded around and looked with interest at the body - two meters high, covered with rough, black-brown skin, covered in dirty stains. The creature's long, bony arms and legs, with tight muscle cords, were spread out to the sides, the fingers ended in long, crooked claws. But the most repulsive impression was made by the head of the creature. Large, slightly flattened from the sides, bald skull. Small eyes, now closed, under heavy, overhanging brow ridges. And long, covered with suckers and small hooks, tentacles around the toothless mouth opening. The whole body, including the muzzle, was covered with fresh wounds from bullets fired at point-blank range.

After it covered you, we shot it in three barrels. - Ivanov commented. - Barely uhaidokali….

Shocked by what he saw, Bes could only nod in gratitude to the captain. He shrugged indifferently in response.

And the Droplet? - Pavel suddenly remembered.

The bastard is gone! - Tomato kicked. - While we were busy with you, he left. Mongol out with Kruger followed him. And while we are here….

Does anyone even understand what is happening around? What about the trees, bushes? What is this creature? - Zakharov expressed a general idea.

They all looked at each other in silence. Confusion on their faces.

In what kind of zone? - Tomato did not understand. - Where?

The big man defiantly turned around, turning his flushed face in different directions.

Yes, not the one that you thought, - the Zaslon grimaced. - In the Chernobyl ZONE. In a closed….

Then, within half an hour, he briefly told his subordinates about the existence of a closed, unknown to the general public, ZONE, formed around the twice exploded nuclear power plant. He shared rumors about anomalies, mutants, incomprehensible artifacts. The soldiers listened with open mouths, grunted incredulously, picked up the words of objection, but, casting glances at the dead carcass lying at their feet, were silent.

The proof of the commander's words, literally, lay before them.

Mongol with Kruger - senior Kruglov, they caught up after five kilometers. Rather, they found what was left of them. Torn, gnawed bodies lay scattered among the scraps of uniform and equipment. The fighters' submachine guns lay right there. A scattering of cartridges littered the blood-stained grass. The question of who could do this with experienced fighters disappeared by itself. A dozen dog corpses surrounded the clearing. And what kind of dogs they were! Bald, with hair hanging down from the sides, with crooked paws, with ugly heads and large fangs bared in the last grin. Looking closely, Bes noticed that even the number of toes on their paws varied from three to seven.

Knocked down by what they saw, the "hunters" stood and looked at what was left of their comrades.

What do we do? - Eremin voiced a general question.

Didn't find a drop? - The captain inquired, although he himself wandered among the bloody rags a couple of minutes ago with his soldiers.

Not at all, commander, - Tomato squeezed out of himself unusually pale. - He's not here….

Then you have to look. - Dropped the Barrier.

Where to look? And who will lead the squad? - Bes could not resist. - The Mongol was the only one who understood the tracks.

The captain wearily squatted down, but immediately got back up. At the ground, the smell of skinned meat was even stronger.

Then it turns out that the guys died in vain! Yes, with such a cruel death!

And if we do not get out of here immediately, then we ourselves will stay here, - Lieutenant Zakharov supported Pavel. - It is necessary to leave, commander….

And the guys? The screen pointed to the bloody chunks of meat. - Will they stay here? The turntable cannot be called - continuous interference….

I propose to dig them in, and move them back. - Ivanov expressed a common idea. - Let's get out of the jamming zone and call the helicopter.

The grave was dug up quickly, it took longer to collect the remains. At first, they still tried to figure out where whose, but then they spat, and put everything together. Experts will sort. We collected weapons and special equipment. Having finished, they marked the place with a piece of Kruglov's jacket, tying it on a tree branch, next to the filled hole and, silently remembering their comrades, set off on the way back.

The "hunters" were just approaching the hill, at the top of which they left the corpse of the mutant, when Tomat suddenly grabbed his head and, moaning, fell to his knees. Zakharov, who was following, rushed to him. The senior warrant officer fell on his side and rolled his legs, continuing to clasp his face with his huge palms. The rest scattered to the sides, taking up positions.

What about him? - Shouted the captain, without turning around.

Fuck knows, - Zakharov responded in bewilderment, trying in vain to keep the hysterical Tomato. - It looks like a seizure.

What the hell, prip…. - A long, disorderly line from the side of the birch forest interrupted the words of the captain.

Bullets whistled so close that Bessonov fell to the ground in a sack, trying to squeeze into it. Eremin shouted wildly on the right. On the left, the captain was shouting something, cutting the birch forest in short bursts. Seryoga Loginov, who had jumped to his feet, collapsed as if knocked down, having received a stray bullet in the head. The demon fired several times at random, and then, rolling, decided to rise.

From the side of a nearby grove were moving strange, distorted figures, in torn clothes, but with weapons in their hands. They walked in a disorderly line, watering the soldiers of the detachment, who were spread out at the bottom of the hill, as they walked. Pavel caught sight of the nearest figure and fired a single shot directly in the chest. The man staggered, turned his face towards him, and took another step. The demon looked in horror at the slightly smoking hole in his chest, at the leg clearly broken in the knee, and at the old festering wound in the place of his right eye.

A zombie - and there was no other name for him, threw up his machine gun and fired a long line in his direction. One of the bullets whistled shrilly over the ear. Pavel screamed and, clicking the safety catch, began to shoot, aiming already at the head. Several bullets hit my neck, jaw and face. The zombie staggered and, dropping the weapon, sank heavily to the ground.

A satisfied rumbling was heard on the left. Turning abruptly, Bes collided with his eyes with a droplet striding towards him with outstretched arms. A blank, glazed gaze, a drooping jaw, a long thread of yellowish saliva on his chin. The senior lieutenant raised his submachine gun and vengefully pulled the trigger. And nothing happened. The AKSU store was empty. The criminal and the policeman were separated by only about ten meters. The demon frantically pulled out the empty clip and, dropping it into the mud, reached into the pocket of the unloading.

Be-e-eu, ”something wheezed behind Zakharov, but Pavel was unable to take his eyes off Biryukov’s icy-blue irises.

The store finally clicked, Bes pulled the bolt and shot Droplet right between the eyes. The criminal's head exploded, and brain debris and blood splatters flew far behind. The zombie, as if knocked down, fell face down. Only then did Paul find the strength to turn around. Just in time to see how three zombies tear Eremin to pieces, how Zaslon, trying to crawl on his legs broken by bullets, fires back from a half-corpse crawling behind him in the same way. And as Tomat approaches him, with a twisted face, with bloodshot eyes, with Zakharov's head in one hand, and with a huge cleaver in the other.

The demon yelled and, tossing the machine gun aside, rushed up the slope as fast as he could. A heavy but soft hand rested on the back of his head. Thoughts became viscous, Pavel watched with amazement his legs, which, regardless of his desire, continued to run. So the speed began to slow down, my chest suddenly felt cramped, I wanted to breathe widely. By itself, his brain gave out - "Ho-ro-sho-zhi-vet-na-sve-te-Vi-ni-Pooh ...". A warm palm pressing on the back of his head drew back, clearing before his eyes.

Do-not-go-same-on-and-de-ti-on-la-pooh, ”Bes croaked, finally choking off his breath.

But, in my head, from the stupid song, it suddenly became easy, the obsessive desire to stop was gone. And Pavel, continuing to wheeze the memorized words of the counters, ran up again.

Naturally, he got lost. And to the perimeter enclosing the ZONE I came out in a completely different place - in the middle of an old collective farm field overgrown with weeds and bushes. In the distance there was a "thorn" and a tower with a machine gun and a searchlight. It was already dark, but a bright beam cut through the darkness with a dagger. The demon screamed, drawing attention to himself. The reaction of the guardhouse stunned him so much that he simply froze in the middle of the field. A short, abrupt command, a searchlight beam darted across the field, looking for the source of the scream, and a heavy machine gun was already barking at full speed, pouring steel rain on the bushes and grass. A bright beam of light struck right in the eyes. The beam, which had slipped past, immediately rushed back. Something shouted on the tower, and the ground, five paces from the senior lieutenant, boiled. And only after that he rushed away, dodging like a hare, and with his back feeling the approach of death. The queues lay so tightly that a pair of steel bumblebees even scorched the skin on the back of his head.

Then a motor roared behind, and the jumping headlight of an APC was added to the spotlight. How many Bes ran, he did not remember. I woke up already in a deep forest, among trees twisted by radiation and mutations, standing in a clearing in front of blinding white lightning snaking on the ground. The discharges seemed to arise directly from the air, from an invisible center, and spread through the grass, practically touching the toes of his boots.

My neck hurt terribly, the sleeve on my right arm was soaked with blood, my left ankle hurt terribly. Where he got all these "gifts" Bes did not remember. He stirred, looking around. It was still dark, but the lightning blazing in the east and the pale light of "anomalous" lightning had already dispelled the darkness of the night.

Don't move, - they called to him from behind. - Do you want to live, do not move.

The senior lieutenant glanced carefully over his shoulder. Two figures were dark about five meters from him. Here one of the people stepped a little closer and fell into the circle of light. Dirty green overalls, unloading, on the shoulder a submachine gun with a grenade launcher. And in the hands of a black, matte-shining lasso. The man was just swinging, intending to throw it over Pavel's shoulders. Instinctively, the Bes jumped away from the ascending rope, and immediately before his eyes an unbearably white light flashed, his eyes darkened, and his heart stopped at half a beat ....

Much later, recalling that his first meeting with his brothers-stalkers Fox and Gray, Bes more than once remembered them with words of gratitude. It was Gray who then managed to throw a rubberized loop cut from the tape of an old conveyor over his shoulders and pull it out of the Electra's ruinous tentacles literally at the last moment. They dragged him to the stalkers' parking lot, where the former senior lieutenant went out, taught him how to survive in the ZONE and soon accepted into their ranks.

Convinced that now he is surrounded by people who are far from respectable, for the most part with a criminal past, hiding from the law, he himself did not advertise his origin. He invented a story about a fight and two accidental murders, and in the future he piously supported the created legend. In fact, he was very lucky that then he fell into not with the Bandits, there was such a group in the ZONE, but with neutral stalkers. He then remained a neutral. Three years have passed since here, remaining true to himself, he fought against lawlessness, trained and organized the young, taught them to survive in these conditions. Now he knew from his own experience that people enter the ZONU for completely different reasons, sometimes very far from reality.

The people are calling the commander of the neutral detachment. - He said into the microphone of the radio. - We drove the bandits out of the parking lot of abandoned equipment, we assume a counter-attack. We have little strength, so you are welcome to help.

Stalker Bes stood near the barrier, throwing the now familiar AKSU behind his back, and tensely watched the returning Matvey, who was easily scared by an unfamiliar guy in encephalitis. About five minutes ago, desperate gunfire was heard from the other side. He sent Matvey Kosoy to the old military checkpoint for help. And so he came back….

The stranger approached - a thin face, circles under his eyes, splashes of blood on his sleeve. But the hole doesn't seem to be visible, so it's not him. The out of breath Scythe breathed out - Here ..., brought ....

Hello stalker, you're just in time. - There was no time for a more detailed acquaintance. The fight will show what it is worth. - We really need your help now. The bandit spawn is trying to gain control of the Junkyard. There was a fight here half an hour ago. We put three freaks. The rest of the lads retreated, but they are clearly about to return with reinforcements. We are few and an extra trunk will not hurt.

The demon paused, looking expectantly at the guy. He nodded - go on.

We ambushed them here. They will come from the direction of the Agroprom Research Institute, from the west, - Bes noticed how the stalker shuddered at the mention of the name of the former institute. “If you can help us destroy their reinforcements, then I will not remain in debt.

The guy glanced over the rusting skeletons of equipment - fire engines, trucks, helicopters - a lot of them have accumulated here since the liquidation of the first disaster. Then he looked at the neutral commander.

Okay, I'll help.

Fine! - Bes could not hold back his relieved exhalation.

Hello! My name is Ivan Naumov. I study at MBOU secondary school number 10 in the city of Chekhov, Moscow region.

Not long ago there was the anniversary of the Beslan tragedy, so I want to tell you about one of the Heroes of Beslan and the VIMPEL control officer, Major Mikhail Borisovich Kuznetsov, call sign “Brownie”.

AND THROUGH BROKEN LAZES,
OVERCOMING FIRE AND FEAR,
FIGHTERS OF THE RUSSIAN SPECIAL FORCES
RUN WITH CHILDREN ON HANDS.

September 1, 2004. This day was to become one of the brightest in the lives of hundreds of Beslan children. But instead of a school holiday, a terrible nightmare awaited them: several days without food and water in the territory of absolute evil. Schoolchildren, teachers and parents were taken hostage and held captive for almost three days. In a matter of hours, the school turned into a fortress, equipped according to all the laws of fortification art. Machine-gun points, classrooms with trenches dug in them, school windows with welded bars and barricaded desks.

The situation then seemed hopeless. Hundreds of hostages, dozens of militants, armed to the teeth! The whole school was like one minefield - explosives were everywhere. If all the charges were triggered, the building would simply cease to exist. The area in front of the school was an open shooting range. The children seemed to be doomed.

Heroes of Beslan 2004 - 2016 everlasting memory…

Everyone understood that the assault was almost inevitable, and they were preparing for it. Officers of Departments "A" and "B" were at the school two hours after it became known that the building had been seized. Several groups flew out of Moscow, some of the employees were already in the Caucasus on a planned business trip and were promptly transferred to the scene of the terrorist attack. From the very first hours of the capture, the development of the operation began. The assault was prepared on a twin building - one of the Beslan schools, built according to the same standard Soviet-era project.

Heroes of Beslan 2004 - 2016 everlasting memory…

When the first explosion sounded on September 3, most of the FSB special forces were there - 13 kilometers away. All battle groups, as quickly as they could, moved into place and "off the wheels" rushed into battle. Many were not wearing helmets, some were left without a plate in a bulletproof vest, but this did not stop anyone. Some employees deliberately "lightened" the equipment in order to be more mobile and to be able to carry more weight - hostages. Having spent almost 3 days on the floor without food and water, in inhuman conditions, in a terrible stuffy atmosphere, women and small children, most likely, will not be able to get together and make a leap ... People will have to be carried on themselves - no one doubted that.

Heroes of Beslan 2004 - 2016 everlasting memory…

Everyone was wounded then. There was no one who did not receive a bullet or a shrapnel. At the same time, no one left the battlefield. During the operation, the special forces first of all save hostages then cover up comrades in arms and only then, if there is time left, they have time to think about own life ... And sometimes it is very short ...

Managed to take 20 children out of the Beslan hell

Directorate "B" of the Central Security Service of the FSB of Russia.
Call sign "Brownie"

Major Mikhail B. Kuznetsov

Mikhail Kuznetsov was born on August 21, 1965 into a working-class family in the village of Yurovo, Ramensky District, Moscow Region. After graduating from 8 classes of the Yurovskaya secondary school from 1980 to 1983, Kuznetsov studied at one of the capital's SGPTU, and in 1984 he was drafted into the army. From August 1984 to April 1986 he took part in the hostilities in Afghanistan, where he received the Medal for Courage and the Order of the Red Star. For his thrift and ability to create comfort, wherever the unit was located, colleagues called Kuznetsov "Brownie". This nickname has migrated with him to the KGB, of which Mikhail became an employee in October 1986. A real hero, under two meters tall. One of the most mature men in that operation, experienced and shot.

Major Mikhail B. Kuznetsov

In 1991, difficult times began in the USSR - the country fell apart into many states that were not always friendly to each other. For the military, that period became especially difficult. After all, everyone took the oath to the Soviet Union, and then suddenly they turned out to be soldiers of new countries and new armies ... Mikhail Kuznetsov at that time served in the Vitebsk Airborne Division. Although Russia always had normal relations with Belarus, Kuznetsov had no idea that he would serve in any army other than the Russian one and left. In 1997, he entered the service of Directorate “B” of the Department for Combating Terrorism of the FSB of Russia (“Vympel”) and managed to take part in many high-profile operations. As an employee of Vympel, he repeatedly went on business trips to the North Caucasus and other "hot spots", took part in complex military and special operations.

In 1999 he fought for Grozny during a fierce assault, and three years later he took part in the release of the hostages at Dubrovka. For courage and courage shown in hostilities, he was awarded the Order of the Red Star, Courage and Military Merit, medals of the Order of Merit to the Fatherland I and II degrees with the image of swords.

Major Mikhail B. Kuznetsov

On September 3, when the explosion struck, Mikhail Kuznetsov, like all the special forces, rushed to the school. Although his position - explosives engineer - did not imply direct participation in assault operations. He was supposed to enter the building only after the assault teams had already worked. However, at that moment it was no longer up to official duties - it was necessary to save everyone who could be in time. When the spontaneous assault began, the hostages began to jump out of the windows. The gym windows in Soviet-built schools are located quite high. Kuznetsov, as if from under the ground, took out school desks and chairs and put them under the walls, knowingly he was nicknamed "Brownie". Helping the children to get out, the special forces soldier continued to fight, suppressing the firing points of the militants.

I managed to get more than twenty children out when two militants appeared in the doorway and opened heavy fire from a machine gun and an assault rifle. Close combat is the most terrible, there is neither time nor room for maneuver. Therefore, Mikhail Kuznetsov made the only possible decision: he covered both children and comrades with himself, gave the assault group precious seconds to attack.

They tried to save him, but they did not have time: they did not take him to the doctors - a bullet interrupted a blood artery, and he died of blood loss.

The last order - "For Merit to the Fatherland" IV degree - Major Kuznetsov was awarded posthumously.

Major Mikhail B. Kuznetsov

On September 3, 2007, a monument to the deceased hero, who was buried in the cemetery of his native village, was unveiled at the secondary school in the village of Yurovo, Ramenskiy district.

Heroes of Beslan 2004 - 2016 everlasting memory…

The tragedy in Beslan is the tragedy of the whole of Russia.

And each spetsnaz soldier was doing his duty, his job. They did what they were trained to do. But do not forget that, saving children at school, they died and left their children without fathers. And their wives without husbands.

Heroes of Beslan 2004 - 2016 everlasting memory…

We must not forget about the Heroes of Russia with a capital letter. About the people who guard us.
Eternal Glory to the heroes of Beslan ...

Among the servicemen who died while terrorists were holding school # 1 in Beslan. there was Mikhail Borisovich Kuznetsov. His feat should not be forgotten, therefore in this article we will talk about what kind of person he was and how he completed his life.

Salvation at the cost of life

On September 3, 2004, the advance group began an assault on the school. Some of its participants managed to get into the school cafeteria. Major Mikhail Borisovich Kuznetsov was among them. The terrorists continued to fire, but it did not prevent the hero from taking out 20 hostages from the premises. The terrorists blew up the sports hall and continued to fire at it from grenade launchers and small arms. The assault continued. Kuznetsov Mikhail Borisovich, while repelling an enemy attack, received multiple wounds, from which he later died in a hospital in Vladikavkaz.

No coincidence

How can you characterize a person who laid down his life for the sake of others? Strong, brave, courageous. It is hardly possible to describe in simple words those qualities that are inherent in such heroes as Mikhail Borisovich Kuznetsov. But their exploits do not go unnoticed. The hero of our article participated in other military operations and always showed his best male qualities. So it was during the storming of Grozny, as well as during the liberation of the hostages at Dubrovka and in other hot spots where he had to visit. It is not surprising that Mikhail Borisovich Kuznetsov received many awards, including the Order of Merit to the Fatherland, I and II degrees. He also received the Order of the Red Star, For Military Merit, and For Courage.

Beginning of life

The major died at the age of 39. His short life began in the village of Yurovo (Ramensky District). Mikhail Borisovich Kuznetsov was born on August 21, 1965 in a family of ordinary workers. After receiving secondary education in 1980, the young man entered the SGPTU, where he studied until the very call to the army in 1984. Even then, he was able to distinguish himself. Kuznetsov took part in the hostilities in Afghanistan, after which he was awarded the medal "For Courage". After the army, Mikhail becomes a KGB officer. In 1991 he served in Belarus in the city of Vitebsk. It was at this time that the USSR collapsed, and Kuznetsov returned to his homeland, and then joined the special forces. In 1997, he became an employee of the Vympel Department, which dealt with the fight against terrorism. On duty, Mikhail Borisovich Kuznetsov ended up in Beslan, where his life path was tragically cut short.

Injustice

The major was left with a family: wife, daughter and son. It would seem that after such a loss, grief should bypass them. However, everything turned out quite differently. Kuznetsov's daughter was killed at the age of 18. It happened in the village of Yurovo on the day when a monument in his honor was unveiled in the hero's homeland. By a mystical coincidence, this happened on September 4, 2007, just 3 years after her father died. Oksana Kuznetsova has a little daughter. The killer has not yet been found, despite the fact that the crime was committed in a small village where everyone knows each other.

The Kuznetsov family was supported by members of the Mothers of Beslan committee. It consists of those who have learned from their own bitter experience what terrorism is. At one time, Mikhail Borisovich saved the children of Beslan. And so now, when his wife and son suffered a new loss, they were not left alone, but received serious moral and material support.

TO Uznetsov Alexander Alekseevich - Head of the Main Directorate of the Northern Sea Route (Glavsevmorput) under the Council of Ministers of the USSR, Major General of Aviation.

Born on April 10 (23), 1904 in the village of Shcherbovo, now in the Torzhok District of the Tver Region, in a working class family. Russian. Studied at the Petrograd Institute of Civil Engineers.

In the Navy since 1923. In 1927 he graduated from the Naval School named after M.V. Frunze (Leningrad). He served on the battleship Parizhskaya Kommuna (Baltic Sea Naval Forces). At his own request, he was sent to study at an aviation school. He graduated from the school of naval pilots - in 1929 and in 1933, in 1932 - the Yeisk school of naval pilots and airmen of the Red Army Air Force named after I.V. Stalin, in 1940 - advanced training courses for higher command personnel at the Naval Academy. Member of the CPSU (b) / CPSU since 1925.

Since 1929 - junior letnab, senior letnab, flight commander of an aviation detachment, commander of an aviation link of the Chervona Ukraine cruiser of the Black Sea Fleet. Since 1933 - flight commander, detachment, squadron, 51st separate air squadron, commander-military commander of the 20th naval long-range reconnaissance squadron of the Baltic Fleet Air Force.

In 1936-1937 - a participant in the national revolutionary war of the Spanish people in 1936-1939. From July 1938 - Chief of Staff of the Air Force of the Red Banner Baltic Fleet, and from July to October 1939 he served as Commander of the Air Force of the Fleet. From November 1939 - Commander of the Air Force of the Northern Fleet. Member of the Soviet-Finnish War of 1939-1940.

Member of the Great Patriotic War since June 1941. Under his command, the pilots of the Northern Fleet defended the Soviet Arctic, fought on the enemy's communications. As the commander of the Air Force of the Northern Fleet, Major General of Aviation Kuznetsov A.A. made 70 sorties.

Since January 1943 - Assistant Commander of the Pacific Fleet Air Force for flight training, since November 1944 - at the disposal of the People's Commissar of the USSR Navy, since March 1945 - Head of the 4th Naval Aviation School, since April 1946 - Head of the Higher Officer Flight tactical courses of aviation of the Navy.

Since September 1946, Major General Kuznetsov A.A. - First Deputy Head, and then from October 1948 - Head of the Main Directorate of the Northern Sea Route under the Council of Ministers of the USSR. The head of the Soviet high-latitude air expeditions "North-2" (1948), "North-4" (1949), "North-5" (1950). In the course of their conduct, he personally made dozens of sorties for ice reconnaissance, performed landings on ice to organize ice airfields. Successfully landed at the North Pole. As a result of these expeditions, a huge amount of work has been completed on the study of the Arctic and polar ice, remarkable geographical and scientific discoveries have been made.

Z and the courage and courage shown in the performance of military duty, by the Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR of December 6, 1949 to the Major General of Aviation Kuznetsov Alexander Alekseevich awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union with the Order of Lenin and the Gold Star medal.

From May 1953 - Commander of the Air Force of the 4th Navy (Baltic Sea), from March 1956 - Senior Military Adviser to the Commander of Aviation of the Navy of the People's Republic of China, and upon returning home in 1959 - an employee of the research group under the Commander-in-Chief of the USSR Navy.

Since August 1959, Aviation Lieutenant General Kuznetsov A.A. - in reserve. Died on August 7, 1966. He was buried in the hero-city of Moscow at the Vvedenskoye cemetery (section 21).

Major General of Aviation (06/04/1940).
Lieutenant General of Aviation (01/27/1951). He was awarded 4 Orders of Lenin (1936, 1949, 1949, 1952), 4 Orders of the Red Banner (1941, 1944, 1945, 1954), medals, personal weapons (1954).

"CLASSIFIED HERO OF THE ARCTIC"

“... there is a Hero of the Soviet Union, whose feat is still shrouded in an aura of mystery and whose name, due to its former secrecy, is still not mentioned in any official list of the North Sea - Hero of the Soviet Union. This is Lieutenant General of Aviation A. Kuznetsov, the first (from 1939 to 1942) Commander of the Northern Fleet Air Force, awarded the title Hero of the Soviet Union in 1949.

Alexander Alekseevich Kuznetsov was born on April 10 (23), 1904 in the village of Shcherbovo, now the Torzhok District of the Tver Region, into a working class family. Until the age of 17, he studied and worked in his native village, then by the Tver Provincial Committee of the Komsomol he was sent to study at the Petrograd Institute of Civil Engineers.

A year later, according to the special set of the Central Committee of the Komsomol, the young man was sent to the Naval Preparatory School, and later to the Naval School, which later became the VMU named after M.V. Frunze.

In 1927, after graduating from college, A. Kuznetsov was appointed assistant chief of watch on the battleship "Paris Commune" of the Baltic Sea Forces (MSBM). But soon his fate makes the first sharp turn: Alexander Alekseevich decides to become ... a naval pilot (!) And enters the Sevastopol school of observer pilots. After graduating from school, he served for almost four years as an observer pilot, flight commander in the aviation of the Black Sea Naval Forces (MSFM).

Then - studies again: Kuznetsov becomes a student of the Yeisk School of Naval Pilots of the Red Army Air Force named after I.V. Stalin, after which he, as one of the best graduates, was left as an instructor.

A year later, he returned to the Baltic, where he began his service as a naval commander. Commander of a separate air squadron, a separate air squadron, the 20th long-range reconnaissance squadron ...

The years of repression at the end of the 30s were distinguished not only by human tragedies and personnel purges, but also by unexpected rapid service takeoffs for many military personnel.

In 1937, Kraskom Kuznetsov, a participant in the battles in Spain, awarded the Order of Lenin (the first, and he will have four in total!), Was unexpectedly appointed from the position of squadron commander immediately as Chief of Staff of the Air Force of the Red Banner Baltic Fleet. Then, for more than a year, he served as the commander of the Baltic Air Force.

In November 1939, the flight units and subdivisions of the Northern Fleet were organizationally formed into the Air Force of the Fleet. And the first commander of the Northern Fleet Air Force was appointed Alexander Alekseevich Kuznetsov. He was then 35 years old.

Under the leadership of their first commander, the North Sea aviators successfully passed a serious combat test during the Soviet-Finnish war. The NF Air Force then included: the 118th naval short-range reconnaissance aviation regiment, consisting of three squadrons of naval close reconnaissance aircraft MBR-2, as well as the 72nd mixed air regiment, which consisted of two squadrons of fighters I-153, I-15 bis and I- 16 and a squadron of SB-2 high-speed bombers.

The aviation of the fleet conducted reconnaissance, covered sea communications, bombed enemy targets, and transferred various cargoes to airborne troops and ground forces.

For the exemplary performance of the command's combat missions and the courage and courage shown at the same time, a group of North Sea aviators was awarded the Orders of the Red Banner, the Red Star and the Medal for Military Merit. On June 4, 1940, the Council of People's Commissars (SNK) of the USSR awarded the newly introduced military rank "Major General of Aviation" to the commander of the fleet aviation, who had repeatedly participated in combat missions, among the first in the Navy.

And again studies, but now at the Advanced Training Courses for the Higher Commanding Staff (KUVNAS) at the K.E. Voroshilov, which Alexander Kuznetsov graduated from on the eve of the war, in May 1941.

It so happened that General A. Kuznetsov had a chance to command the aviation of the young Northern Fleet in the most difficult time of the Great Patriotic War - until the end of 1942.

By the beginning of the Great Patriotic War, the composition of the Northern Fleet aviation practically did not change. Only to the already obsolete aircraft were added 7 modern GTS seaplanes, which could conduct reconnaissance not only in the Barents Sea, but also in the most remote regions of the Kara Sea. However, the Northern Fleet did not have torpedo bombers and bombers at all.

According to the recollections of veterans, due to the small number of the aircraft fleet, there was sometimes no one to protect the warships and transports that were leaving the sea from the air, or to cover the landing of Soviet landings. Yes, and North Sea aircraft were based at two airfields: land - in the village of Vaenga and sea - in Gryaznaya Bay, and only with the beginning of the war - at several operational sites.

These objective shortcomings were more than covered by the North Sea pilots with courage and courage, skill and audacity. From July to October 1941 alone, the aviation of the fleet made 8131 sorties, of which more than 3 thousand were for bombing and attacking the advancing enemy forces.

The Motherland highly appreciated the combat work of the North Sea aviators. On September 16, 1941, the 72nd mixed air regiment was the first in the Navy and the only one of the naval air regiments (in 1941) to be awarded the Order of the Red Banner. And already in January 1942 he was given the name of the Guards. In the first year of the war alone in the Arctic, the North Sea residents shot down about three hundred enemy aircraft in air battles, sank eight warships and transports, and damaged seven. At the same time, 70 sorties were made personally by the Commander of the Northern Fleet Air Force.

“A good sailor, a talented organizer and an excellent pilot, he enjoyed authority among his subordinates, knew how to infect them with his enthusiasm and inspire them to feat” - such an assessment to General A. Kuznetsov is given by Admiral Vasily Platonov, who knew him well, from 1939 to 1944. commander of the OVR of the main base of the Northern Fleet, and then chief of staff and commander of the Northern Fleet. The commander of the British wing, Lieutenant Colonel N. Isherwood, also highly appreciated the personal qualities of the Commander of the Northern Fleet Air Force. (In the fall of 1941, British fighter pilots arrived in the North, who came under the direct command of General Kuznetsov).

But soon - a new sharp turn, or rather - a "peak" in the service career of A. Kuznetsov: in January 1943 he was appointed to the distant Pacific Fleet as an assistant commander of the Air Force for the flight part. Then, from March 1945, Alexander Alekseevich headed the Naval Aviation School for a year, and then for six months he was in command of the Higher Officer Flight Tactical Courses.

A new take-off in his life began in September 1946. General Kuznetsov, having left in the personnel of the Naval Forces, was appointed first deputy chief (1946-1948), and then (1948-1953) - head of the Main Directorate of the Northern Sea Route under Council of Ministers (CM) of the USSR.

At these posts, unusual for a military man, the high organizational and human qualities of Alexander Alekseevich, his professionalism and competence, were especially clearly manifested.

With an excellent knowledge of aviation, the North and the navy, General Kuznetsov enthusiastically tackled the most important state tasks directly related not only to a deep and thorough study of the Arctic Ocean, but also to an increase in the country's defense capability.

Nowadays, few people remember that in the first post-war years in the United States, along with other aggressive plans, the so-called "Arctic strategy" was developed. It provided for the development and preparation of the Arctic for military operations, taking into account the fact that the shortest air routes pass over the Arctic for bombing and missile strikes at various centers of the Soviet Union.

According to American military experts, the Central Polar Basin then (and even now) could become an important theater of military operations in any global conflict, and the North Pole - the strategic center of the Third World War. Taking adequate (or at least reducing) this threat measures, the Soviet Union also began to rapidly and on a large scale study the most little-known regions of the Arctic. In an atmosphere of the strictest secrecy, special groups of scientists landed on the eternal ice, and landing sites for aviation were created. Alexander Kuznetsov also took an active part in this work.

On the instructions of the government, he organized high-latitude Arctic air expeditions of the Glavsevmorput to the Central Polar Basin of the Arctic. He not only successfully supervised the work on the preparation of joint operations of military and polar aviation in the Arctic, but he himself repeatedly flew out on reconnaissance, to determine the areas of future ice airfields and polar stations, while showing examples of courage and heroism.

This is eloquently evidenced by the facts given in his recently declassified submission to the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. Here they are:

"Kuznetsov A.A. skillfully and courageously conducted ice reconnaissance to study areas suitable for ice airfields and the organization of scientific stations on them. At the most critical moment of the expedition's work at the North Pole, when compression broke the ice and threatened the loss of aircraft and scientific equipment located there, Kuznetsov personally flew to the area and landed on a wheeled plane on an unprepared ice floe and, with his bold leadership, ensured the flight of aircraft to rescue scientific equipment. At the end of the work of the expedition at 32 airfields, he was the last to leave the area of ​​work and, at the same time, made a non-stop flight from the North Pole to Moscow. "

By a closed Decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR dated December 6, 1949, Major General of Aviation Alexander Alekseevich Kuznetsov, pilots of polar aviation V. Zadkov, I. Kotov, I. Cherevichny and the head of the Arctic geophysics department of the Research Institute of Glavsevmorput M. Ostrekin were awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. In open sources, the wording sounded simpler: "For the skillful leadership of the troops and heroism in the Great Patriotic War" or "For the courage and courage shown in the performance of military duty ..."

What was the hero of the Arctic like in life? It seems that the testimony of his contemporary, the famous test doctor and polar explorer Vitaly Volovich, will tell the best about this:

As the head of one of the expeditions codenamed "Sever" (1949), A. Kuznetsov wore a naval pilot's jacket with gold general's shoulder straps, sitting well on his athletic figure. His youthful, weather-beaten face and bright blue eyes contrasted strangely with his thick, slightly curly, completely gray hair. He walked with a confident step inherent only to him, which gave his gait a certain weight and originality. A special distinguishing feature was that, with all the masculinity and decisiveness of his appearance, he spoke, never raising his voice, maintaining outward calmness even "removing the shavings." That is why the polar flyers among themselves called Alexander Alekseevich "the quietest" ... What it cost him to be like that, having passed so many tests and still carrying the burden of the highest responsibility for the entrusted matter of state importance - only he knew ...

In January 1951, A. Kuznetsov was awarded the next military rank of Lieutenant General of Aviation. This would not have been anything special if it were not for the fact that at that time he held the "civilian" position of the head of the Glavsevmorput. This event becomes even more significant if we recall the biography of the famous polar explorer Ivan Dmitrievich Papanin.

Twice Hero of the Soviet Union, I. Papanin headed Glavsevmorput from 1939 to 1946, but had the military rank only "Rear Admiral", which was awarded to him in 1943.

The Rear Admiral, his entire service in the Arctic, remained and Vasily Burkhanov, who replaced Alexander Alekseevich in 1953 as head of the Main Directorate of the Northern Sea Route. His military rank did not change when he was appointed Deputy Minister of the USSR Navy.

Apparently, by assigning another general rank to Alexander Kuznetsov, the country's leadership especially noted his merits in strengthening the country's defense capability and increasing the combat readiness of the USSR Armed Forces.

In May 1953, General A. Kuznetsov was appointed commander of the Air Force of the 4th Navy (from 1946 to 1956 the Red Banner Baltic Fleet was "divided" into the 4th and 8th Navy. - author's note).

It is noteworthy that in 1952-1956. this, the 4th Navy, was commanded by Admiral A. Golovko, who knew Alexander Alekseevich well from joint service in the Northern Fleet in 1940-1942.

After the "merger" of the 4th and 8th navies into a single Baltic fleet, in 1956 the military fate of A. Kuznetsov made the last turn: he was appointed senior military adviser to the aviation commander of the PRC navy.

After returning from China, he worked for several months in a research group under the Commander-in-Chief of the Navy, and in August 1959 he was retired.

The services of General A. Kuznetsov to the country and the Armed Forces were awarded four Orders of Lenin and four Orders of the Red Banner, many medals and personalized weapons. Hero of the Arctic was elected a deputy of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR of the 2nd convocation and the Supreme Soviet of the Lithuanian SSR.

Alexander Alekseevich died on August 7, 1966 in Moscow, where he was buried at the Vvedenskoye cemetery. In April 2004 he would have turned 100 years old ...

INSTEAD OF CONCLUSION

We are justifiably proud and consider the Severomor to be twice Hero of the Soviet Union, the famous intelligence officer Viktor Leonov. Although he received his second "Gold Star" as the commander of the reconnaissance detachment of the Pacific Fleet. All the lists of the Severomorians - Heroes of the Soviet Union of the post-war period also mention the names of fleet admirals Vladimir Kasatonov and Georgy Yegorov, who at one time were commanders of the Northern Fleet, but they were nevertheless awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union, occupying the posts of 1st deputy Navy Main Command and Chief of the Main Staff of the Navy, respectively.

Therefore, it would be fair to include (and count as a hero of the North Sea!) In these lists the name of Lieutenant General of Aviation Alexander Alekseevich Kuznetsov, the first commander of the Northern Fleet Air Force.

Most likely, he was nevertheless the first of the North Sea residents on December 6, 1949, to be awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union for courage and heroism shown in the post-war period.

Captain 1st rank in reserve A. Buglak, Murmansk Association of Arctic Explorers (see the Navy magazine "Marine collection", 2005, No. 4 (1901), pp. 73-77.)