No one now remembers that in 1995 the naval tradition of the Great Patriotic War was revived - a company of marines was formed on the basis of more than twenty units of the Leningrad Naval Base. Moreover, it was not a marine officer who had to command this company, but a submariner ...

Just like in 1941, the sailors were sent almost straight from the ships to the front, although many of them held a machine gun in their hands only on the oath. And these yesterday's mechanics, signalmen, electricians in the mountains of Chechnya entered into battle with well-trained and heavily armed militants.

Sailors-Baltic in the battalion of marines of the Baltic Fleet fought back in Chechnya with honor. But out of ninety-nine fighters, only eighty-six returned home ...

List of servicemen of the 8th company of the Marine Corps of the Leningrad Naval Base who died during the conduct of hostilities on the territory of the Chechen Republic in the period from May 3 to June 30, 1995

1. Guard Major Yakunenkov Igor Alexandrovich (04/23/63–05/30/95)

2. Guards Senior Lieutenant Stobetsky Sergey Anatolyevich (24.02.72–30.05.95)

3. Guards sailor contract-based Yegorov Alexander Mikhailovich (03/14/57–05/30/95)

4. Guard sailor Kalugin Dmitry Vladimirovich (11.06.76–08.05.95)

5. Guard sailor Kolesnikov Stanislav Konstantinovich (05.04.76–30.05.95)

6. Guard sailor Koposov Roman Vyacheslavovich (03/04/76–05/30/95)

7. Guards foreman of the 2nd article Korablin Vladimir Ilyich (24.09.75–30.05.95)

8. Guards junior sergeant Dmitry Metlyakov (04/09/71–05/30/95)

9. Guards senior sailor Romanov Anatoly Vasilyevich (04/27/76–05/29/95)

10. Guards senior sailor Cherevan Vitaly Nikolaevich (01.04.75–30.05.95)

11. Guard sailor Cherkashin Mikhail Aleksandrovich (03/20/76–05/30/95)

12. Guards senior sailor Shpilko Vladimir Ivanovich (21.04.76–29.05.95)

13. Guards Sergeant Yakovlev Oleg Evgenievich (05/22/75–05/29/95)

Eternal memory to the dead, honor and glory to the living!

Captain 1st rank V. (call sign "Vietnam") says:

- I, a submariner, became the commander of a marine corps company by accident. At the beginning of January 1995, I was the commander of a diving company of the Baltic Fleet, at that time the only one in the entire Navy. And then suddenly an order came: from the personnel of the units of the Leningrad naval base to form a company of marines to be sent to Chechnya. And all the infantry officers of the Vyborg Antiamphibious Defense Regiment, who were supposed to go to war, refused. I remember that the command of the Baltic Fleet then threatened to put them in jail for this. So what? Did they imprison at least someone? .. And they told me: “You have at least some experience in combat. Take the company. You answer for her with your head.

On the night of January 11-12, 1995, I received this company in Vyborg. And in the morning you need to fly to Baltiysk.

As soon as I arrived at the barracks of the company of the Vyborg regiment, I lined up sailors and asked them: “Do you know that we are going to war?” And then half a company faints: “Ka-a-ak? .. To some kind of war! ..”. Then they realized how they were all deceived! It turned out that some of them were offered to enter the flight school, someone was going to another place. But here’s what’s interesting: for some reason, the “best” sailors were selected for such important and responsible cases, for example, those with disciplinary “flights” or even former offenders in general.

I remember a local major running up: “Why did you tell them that? How are we going to keep them now? I told him: “Shut your mouth ... It’s better that we collect them here than I later collect them there. By the way, if you don't agree with my decision, I can trade with you. Any questions?". The Major had no more questions...

Something unimaginable began to happen to the personnel: someone was crying, someone fell into a stupor ... Of course, there were just finished cowards. Out of a hundred and fifty of them, there were fifteen people. Two of them generally rushed out of the unit. But I don’t need these either, I wouldn’t take these myself anyway. But most of the guys were still ashamed in front of their comrades, and they went to fight. In the end, ninety-nine men went to war.

The next day in the morning I built the company again. Vice-Admiral Grishanov, commander of the Leningrad Naval Base, asks me: “Do you have any wishes?” I answer: “Yes. Everyone here is going to die.” Him: “What are you? This is a reserve company! ..». I: “Comrade commander, I know everything, this is not the first time I see a marching company. Here people have families, but no one has apartments.” He: “We didn’t think about it ... I promise, we will solve this issue.” And then he kept his word: all the families of the officers received apartments.

We arrive in Baltiysk, to the Marine Brigade of the Baltic Fleet. The brigade itself at that time was in a dilapidated state, so the mess in the brigade multiplied by the mess in the company resulted in a mess squared. No food, no sleep. And after all, this was only a minimal mobilization for one fleet! ..

But, thank God, the old guard of Soviet officers still remained in the fleet by that time. They pulled out the beginning of the war on themselves. But in the second “walker” (as the Marines call the period of hostilities in mountainous Chechnya from May to June 1995. - Ed.), Many officers from the “new” went to war for apartments and orders. (I remember how, back in Baltiysk, one officer asked to join my company. But I had nowhere to take him. I then asked him: “Why do you want to go?” He: “But I don’t have an apartment ....” I: “Remember : they don’t go to war for apartments.” Later this officer died.)

The deputy commander of the brigade, Lieutenant Colonel Artamonov, told me: "Your company is leaving for the war in three days." And out of a hundred and twenty people, I even had to take the oath without a machine gun! But those who had this machine gun also left not far from them: practically no one knew how to shoot anyway.

Somehow settled down, went to the training ground. And at the range, out of ten grenades, two do not explode, out of ten rifle cartridges, three do not shoot, they simply rotted. All these, if I may say so, ammunition were produced in 1953. And cigarettes too, by the way. It turns out that the most ancient NZ was raked out for us. With machine guns - the same story. In the company, they were still the newest - the release of 1976. By the way, the trophy assault rifles that we later took from the “spirits” were manufactured in 1994 ...

But as a result of "intensive training" on the third day, we held classes in combat shooting of the squad (under normal conditions, this is supposed to be done only after a year of study). This is a very difficult and serious exercise, which ends with combat grenade throwing. After such a “study”, all my hands were cut with shrapnel - this is from the fact that I had to pull down those who got up at the wrong time.

But study is only half the trouble... The company is leaving for lunch. I'm doing a shmon. And I find under the beds ... grenades, explosives. These are eighteen-year-old boys!.. They saw the weapon for the first time. But they did not think at all and did not understand that if it all exploded, then the barracks would be blown to smithereens. Later, these fighters told me: "Comrade commander, we do not envy you, as you had to do with us."

We arrive from the landfill at one in the morning. The fighters are not fed, and no one in the brigade is going to feed them especially ... Somehow, they still managed to get something edible. And so I generally fed the officers with my own money. I had two million rubles with me. This was then a relatively large sum. For example, a pack of expensive imported cigarettes cost a thousand rubles ... I can imagine what a sight it was when we, after a training ground with weapons and knives, tumbled into a cafe at night. Everyone is in shock: who are they? ..

Representatives of various national diasporas immediately began to frequent in order to ransom fellow countrymen: give the boy back, he is a Muslim and should not go to war. I remember people like that driving up in a Volkswagen Passat and calling to the checkpoint: “Commander, we need to talk to you.” We came with them to the cafe. They ordered such a table there! .. They say: “We will give you money, give us the boy.” I listened to them attentively and I answer: “Money is not needed.” I call the waitress and pay for the whole table. And I tell them: “Your boy will not go to war. I don’t need such people there!” And then the guy felt uneasy, he already wanted to go with everyone. But then I clearly told him: “No, I definitely don’t need one like that. Free…”.

Then I saw how people are brought together by a common misfortune and common difficulties. Gradually, my motley company began to turn into a monolith. And then in the war I didn’t even command, but just cast a glance - and everyone understood me perfectly.

In January 1995, at a military airfield in the Kaliningrad region, we were loaded onto a plane three times. Twice the Baltics did not give permission for aircraft to fly over their territory. But for the third time, they still managed to send the “Ruevskaya” company (one of the companies of the Baltic Fleet marine brigade. - Ed.), But we were gone again. Our company was preparing until the end of April. In the first "walker" to the war from the whole company, I got alone, went to replace.

On the second "walk" we were supposed to fly on April 28, 1995, but it turned out only on May 3 (again, because of the Balts, who did not let the planes through). Thus, the Pacific Fleet (Naval Infantry of the Pacific Fleet. - Ed.) and the "Northerners" (Northern Fleet Marines. - Ed.) arrived before us.

When it became clear that we were facing a war not in the city, but in the mountains, for some reason there were moods in the Baltic Brigade that there would be no more dead - they say, this is not Grozny of January 1995. There was some kind of false idea that a victorious walk through the mountains was ahead. But for me it was not the first war, and I had a premonition of how everything would actually be. And then we really found out how many people in the mountains died during artillery shelling, how many - during the executions of columns. I really hoped no one would die. I thought: "Well, the wounded, probably, will be ...". And I firmly decided that before sending, I would definitely take the company to the church.

And in the company, many were unbaptized. Among them is Seryoga Stobetsky. And I, remembering how my baptism changed my life, really wanted him to be baptized too. I myself was baptized late. Then I returned from a very scary business trip. The country fell apart. My own family was broken up. It was not clear what to do next. I found myself in a dead end in life ... And I remember well how after baptism my soul calmed down, everything fell into place, and it became clear how I should live on. And when I later served in Kronstadt, I sent sailors several times to help the rector of the Kronstadt Cathedral of the Vladimir Icon of the Mother of God clear the garbage. The cathedral at that time was in ruins - after all, it was blown up twice.

And then the sailors began to bring me the royal gold coins, which they found under the ruins. They ask: "What to do with them?". Imagine: people find gold, a lot of gold… But no one even thought of taking it for themselves. And I decided to give these chervonets to the rector of the church. And it was in this church that I later came to baptize my son. At that time, Father Svyatoslav, a former "Afghan", was a priest there. I say: “I want to baptize the child. But I myself have little faith, I don’t know prayers ... ” And I remember his speech verbatim: “Seryoga, were you underwater? Have you been to the war? So you believe in God. Free! And for me this moment became a turning point, I finally turned to the Church.

Therefore, before leaving for the “second trip”, I began to ask Seryoga Stobetsky to be baptized. And he firmly answered: "I will not be baptized." I had a premonition (and not only me) that he would not return. I didn’t even want to take him to the war at all, but I was afraid to tell him about it - I knew that he would go anyway. Therefore, I worried about him and really wanted him to be baptized. But here nothing can be done by force.

Through local priests, I turned to the then Metropolitan of Smolensk and Kaliningrad Kirill with a request to come to Baltiysk. And, what is most surprising, Bishop Kirill left all his urgent business and came to Baltiysk on purpose to bless us for the war.

It was just the Bright Week after Easter. When I was talking to Vladyka, he asked me: “When are you leaving?” I answer: “In a day or two. But there are unbaptized people in the company.” And about twenty boys who were unbaptized and wanted to be baptized, Vladyka Kirill personally baptized. Moreover, the guys did not even have money for crosses, which I told Vladyka about. He replied: "Don't worry, everything here is free for you."

In the morning, almost the entire company (only those who served on guard and in finery were not with us) stood at the liturgy in the cathedral in the center of Baltiysk. The liturgy was officiated by Metropolitan Kirill. Then I formed a company at the cathedral. Vladyka Kirill came out and sprinkled the soldiers with holy water. I still remember how I asked Metropolitan Kirill: “We are going to fight. Perhaps this is a sinful thing? And he replied: “If for the Motherland, then no.”

In the church, we were given icons of St. George the Victorious and the Mother of God and crosses, which were put on by almost everyone who did not have them. With these icons and crosses, a few days later we went to war.

When we were seen off, the commander of the Baltic Fleet, Admiral Yegorov, ordered the table to be laid. The company lined up at the Chkalovsk airfield, the soldiers were given tokens. Lieutenant Colonel Artamonov, deputy brigade commander, took me aside and said: “Seryoga, please come back. Will you have cognac? Me: “No, no, no. Better when I get back. And when I already went to the plane, I rather felt than saw how Admiral Yegorov crossed me ...

At night, we flew to Mozdok (military base in North Ossetia. - Ed.). There is complete confusion. I gave my command to set up guards just in case, get sleeping bags and go to bed right next to the take-off. The guys managed to at least take a nap before the upcoming restless night already in positions.

On May 4, we were transferred to Khankala. There we sit on the armor and march in a column to Germenchug near Shali, at the position of the TOFIK battalion.

We arrived at the place - there was no one ... Our future positions, more than a kilometer long, are scattered along the Dzhalka River. And I only have a little over twenty fighters. If then the "spirits" attacked immediately, then we would have had a very hard time. Therefore, we tried not to reveal ourselves (no shooting) and began to slowly settle down. But no one even thought to sleep that first night.

And they did it right. That same night, we were fired upon by a sniper for the first time. We covered the bonfires, but the fighters decided to smoke. The bullet passed only twenty centimeters from Stas Golubev: he stood in a trance for some time with his eyes on the “fifty kopeck”, and the ill-fated cigarette fell on his “armor” and smoked ...

At these positions, we were constantly fired upon both from the side of the village and from the side of some unfinished factory. But then we removed the sniper from the AGS (automatic heavy-duty grenade launcher. - Ed.) at the plant.

The next day the whole battalion arrived. It seemed to be more fun. Engaged in retrofitting positions. I immediately established a normal routine: getting up, exercising, divorce, physical training. Many looked at me with great surprise: in the field, charging looked somehow, to put it mildly, exotic. But three weeks later, when we went to the mountains, everyone understood what, why and why: daily exercises gave results - I did not lose a single person on the march. But in other companies, fighters who were not physically ready for wild loads simply fell off their feet, lagged behind and got lost ...

In May 1995, a moratorium on hostilities was declared. Everyone paid attention to the fact that these moratoriums were announced exactly when the "spirits" needed time to prepare. There were shootings all the same - if they shot at us, we would definitely answer. But we didn't move forward. But when this truce ended, we began to advance in the direction of Shali-Agishty-Makhkety-Vedeno.

By that time, there were both air reconnaissance data and short-range reconnaissance stations. Moreover, they turned out to be so accurate that with their help it was possible to find a shelter for a tank in the mountain. My scouts confirmed: indeed, at the entrance to the gorge in the mountain there is a shelter with a meter layer of concrete. The tank drives out of this concreted cave, shoots in the direction of the grouping and drives back. It is useless to shoot artillery at such a structure. We got out of the situation like this: they called in aviation and dropped some very powerful aerial bomb on the tank.

On May 24, 1995, artillery preparation began, absolutely all the barrels woke up. And on the same day, as many as seven mines flew to our location from our own "nons" (self-propelled mortar. - Ed.). I can’t say exactly why, but some mines, instead of flying along the calculated trajectory, began to tumble. A trench was dug along the road at the site of the former drainage system. And the mine falls right into this trench (Sasha Kondrashov is sitting there) and explodes! .. I think with horror: there must be a corpse there ... I run up - thank God, Sasha is sitting, holding on to his leg. The fragment broke off a piece of stone, and with this stone, part of the muscle on his leg was torn out. And this is on the eve of the battle. He doesn't want to go to the hospital... They sent him anyway. But he caught up with us near Duba-Yurt. It's good that no one else got hooked.

On the same day, "grad" drives up to me. The captain of the marine corps, “TOF” runs out of it, asks: “Can I stand with you?”. I answer: “Well, wait…”. It never occurred to me that these guys would start shooting!.. And they drove off about thirty meters to the side and fired a volley!.. It seemed that they hit me in the ears with a hammer! I told him: "What are you doing! ..". He: "So you allowed ...". They themselves stuffed their ears with cotton…

On May 25, almost our entire company was already at the TPU (rear control point. - Ed.) of the battalion south of Shali. Only the 1st platoon (reconnaissance) and mortars were moved forward close to the mountains. Mortars were put forward because the regimental “nons” and “acacias” (self-propelled howitzer. - Ed.) Could not shoot close. The “spirits” took advantage of this: they would hide behind the nearby mountain, where the artillery could not reach them, and make sorties from there. This is where our mortars came in handy.

Early in the morning we heard fighting in the mountains. It was then that the “spirits” bypassed the 3rd airborne assault company of the “TOFiks” from the rear. We ourselves were afraid of such a detour. The next night I did not lie down at all, but walked around in circles in my positions. The day before, a “northerner” fighter came out to us, but mine did not notice him and let him through. I remember, I got terribly angry - I thought that I would just kill everyone! .. After all, if the "northerner" calmly passed, then what can we say about "spirits"?

At night, I sent the castle platoon sergeant Edik Musikaev with the guys forward to see where we were supposed to advance. They saw two wrecked "Dukhov" tanks. The guys brought a couple of captured machine guns with them, although usually the "spirits" took away the weapons after the battle. But here, probably, the skirmish was so fierce that these machine guns were either abandoned or lost. In addition, we found grenades, mines, captured a "Dukhovsky" machine gun, a smooth-bore gun from an infantry fighting vehicle, mounted on a self-made chassis.

On May 26, 1995, the active phase of the offensive began: the “TOFiks” and the “northerners” fought forward along the Shali Gorge. The "spirits" prepared very well for the meeting of ours: they had echeloned positions - systems of dugouts, trenches. (Later, we even found old dugouts from the time of the Patriotic War, which the “spirits” converted into firing points. And here’s what was especially bitter: the militants “magically” knew exactly the time the operation began, the location of the troops and delivered preemptive artillery tank strikes.)

It was then that my fighters first saw the returning MTLB (multi-purpose light armored tractor. - Ed.) With the wounded and dead (they were taken out right through us). They grew up on the same day.

"Tofiks" and "northerners" rested ... They did not even half fulfill the task for this day. Therefore, on the morning of May 27, I received a new command: together with the battalion, move to the area of ​​the cement plant near Duba-Yurt. The command decided not to send our Baltic battalion through the gorge head-on (I don’t even know how many of us would be left with such a development of events), but to send it around to go to the “spirits” in the rear. The battalion was given the task of passing through the right flank through the mountains and taking Agishty first, and then Makhkety. And it was precisely for such actions of ours that the militants were completely unprepared! And the fact that even a whole battalion will go to the rear of them in the mountains, they could not dream even in a nightmare! ..

By thirteen o'clock on May 28, we moved to the area of ​​the cement plant. Paratroopers from the 7th Airborne Division also came here. And then we hear the sound of "turntables"! In the gap between the trees of the gorge, a helicopter appears, painted with some kind of dragons (it was clearly visible through binoculars). And everyone, without saying a word, opens fire from grenade launchers in that direction! The helicopter was far away, about three kilometers, and we could not get it. But the pilot, it seems, saw this barrage and quickly flew away. We didn’t see any more “spiritual” helicopters.

According to the plan, paratrooper scouts were to go first. Behind them comes the 9th company of our battalion and becomes a checkpoint. Behind the 9th - our 7th company and also becomes a checkpoint. And my 8th company must go through all the checkpoints and take Agishty. For reinforcement, they gave me a "mortar", a sapper platoon, an artillery spotter and an aircraft controller.

Seryoga Stobetsky, commander of the 1st reconnaissance platoon, and I are starting to think about how we will go. They began to prepare for the exit. They arranged additional classes in "physo" (although we already had them from the very beginning every day). We also decided to hold competitions in store equipment for speed. After all, each fighter has ten to fifteen stores with him. But one store, if you pull the trigger and hold it, flies out in about three seconds, and life literally depends on the speed of reloading in battle.

Everyone at that moment already well understood that ahead - not the shootouts that we had the day before. Everything spoke of this: the burnt skeletons of tanks were all around, the wounded were coming out through our positions in dozens, the dead were being taken out ... Therefore, before reaching the starting point, I approached each fighter to look him in the eye and wish him good luck. I saw how some of their stomachs twisted with fear, someone even pissed himself ... But I do not consider these manifestations to be something shameful. I just remember my fear before the first fight! It hurts in the solar plexus area as if you were hit in the groin, but only ten times worse! It is both sharp and aching and dull pain at the same time ... And you can’t do anything about it: even if you walk, even if you sit, it hurts so much in your stomach! ..

When we went to the mountains, I was wearing about sixty kilograms of equipment - a bulletproof vest, a machine gun with a grenade launcher, two ammo grenades, one and a half ammo cartridges, grenades for a grenade launcher, two knives. The fighters are loaded the same way. But the guys from the 4th grenade-machine-gun platoon were dragging their AGSs (automatic easel grenade launcher. - Ed.), "Cliffs" (heavy machine gun NSV caliber 12.7 mm. - Ed.) And plus each two mortar mines - more ten kilos!

I line up a company and determine the battle order: first comes the 1st reconnaissance platoon, then the sappers and the "mortar", and closes the 4th platoon. We are walking in complete darkness along the goat path, which was marked on the map. The path is narrow, only a cart could pass through it, and even then with great difficulty. I said to mine: “If someone screams, even if he is wounded, then I myself will come and strangle with my own hands ...”. So we walked very quietly. Even if someone fell, the maximum that could be heard was an indistinct lowing.

On the way we saw "spiritual" caches. Soldiers: "Comrade commander! ..". Me: “Set aside, don’t touch anything. Forward!". And it’s right that we didn’t poke our heads into these caches. Later we learned about the "two hundredth" (deceased. - Ed.) and "three hundredth" (wounded. - Ed.) in our battalion. The soldiers of the 9th company climbed into the dugouts to rummage. And no, in order to first throw grenades at the dugout, but go stupidly, into the open ... And here is the result - ensign from Vyborg Volodya Soldatenkov was hit by a bullet below the bulletproof vest in the groin. He died of peritonitis, he was not even taken to the hospital.

All the time of the march, I ran between the vanguard (reconnaissance platoon) and the rear guard (“mortar”). And our column stretched for almost two kilometers. When once again I came back, I met reconnaissance paratroopers who were walking, tied with ropes. I told them: "You're going great, boys!" After all, they were walking light! But it turned out that we were ahead of everyone, the 7th and 9th companies were left far behind.

Reported to the battalion commander. He says to me: "So go to the end first." And at five in the morning, with my reconnaissance platoon, I took the high-rise 1000.6. This was the place where the 9th company was supposed to set up a checkpoint and the battalion's TPU was to be located. At seven o'clock in the morning my whole company approached, and at about half past seven the reconnaissance paratroopers arrived. And only at ten in the morning the battalion commander came with part of another company.

Only according to the map we walked about twenty kilometers. Exhausted to the limit. I remember well how Seryoga Starodubtsev from the 1st platoon came all blue-green. He fell to the ground and lay motionless for two hours. And this guy is young, twenty years old ... What can we say about those who are older.

All plans failed. The battalion commander tells me: “You go forward, in the evening you take up a height in front of the Agishtas and report.” Let's go ahead. We passed the reconnaissance paratroopers and moved on along the road marked on the map. But the maps were from the sixties, and this path was marked on it without a bend! As a result, we lost our way and went along a different, new road, which was not on the map at all.

The sun is still high. I see a huge village in front of me. I look at the map - it's definitely not Agishty. I tell the aircraft controller: “Igor, we are not where we should be. Let's figure it out." As a result, they figured out that they went to the Makhkets. From us to the village a maximum of three kilometers. And this is the task of the second day of the offensive! ..

I'm getting in touch with the battalion commander. I say: “Why do I need these Agishtas? I have almost fifteen kilometers to return to them! And I have a whole company, a “mortar gun”, and even sappers, there are two hundred of us in total. Yes, I have never fought with such a crowd! Come on, I'll take a break and take the Makhkets." Indeed, by that time, the fighters could no longer pass more than five hundred meters in a row. After all, on each - from sixty to eighty kilograms. A fighter will sit down, but he can no longer get up ...

Kombat: "Back!". An order is an order - we turn around and go back. The reconnaissance platoon went first. And as it turned out later, we were right at the exit point of the “spirits”. "Tofiks" and "northerners" put pressure on them in two directions at once, and the "spirits" retreated in two groups of several hundred people on both sides of the gorge ...

We are back on the bend from which we went on the wrong road. And then the battle begins behind - our 4th grenade-machine-gun platoon was ambushed! It all started with a direct confrontation. The fighters, bending under the weight of everything they were carrying, saw some kind of “bodies”. Ours make two conditional shots in the air (in order to somehow distinguish ours from strangers, I ordered a piece of a vest to be sewn on my arm and leg and agreed with ours on the “friend or foe” signal: two shots in the air - two shots in response) . And in response, ours receive two shots to kill! The bullet hits Sasha Ognev in the arm and interrupts the nerve. He screams in pain. The doctor Gleb Sokolov turned out to be a fine fellow with us: the “spirits” beat him, and at that time he was bandaging the wounded! ..

Captain Oleg Kuznetsov rushed to the 4th platoon. I told him: “Where! There is a platoon leader, let him figure it out himself. You have a company, "mortar" and sappers! I put up a barrier of five or six fighters with the commander of the 1st platoon, Seryoga Stobetsky, on a high-rise, and give the rest the command: "Move away and dig in!"

And then the battle begins already with us - it was from below that we were fired from grenade launchers. We walked along the ridge. In the mountains like this: whoever is higher wins. But not at this time. The fact is that huge mugs grew below. From above, we see only green leaves, from which grenades fly out, and the “spirits” see us perfectly through the stems.

Just at that moment, the extreme fighters from the 4th platoon were moving past me. I still remember how Edik Kolechkov walked. He walks along a narrow ledge of the slope and carries two PCs (Kalashnikov machine gun. - Ed.). And then bullets begin to fly around him! .. I shout: “Go left! ..”. And he is so exhausted that he cannot even turn off this ledge, he simply spreads his legs to the sides so as not to fall, and therefore continues to go straight ...

There is nothing to do at the top, and I go into these damned burdocks with the soldiers. Volodya Shpilko and Oleg Yakovlev were the last ones in the chain. And then I see: a grenade explodes next to Volodya, and he falls ... Oleg immediately rushed to pull Volodya out and died right there. Oleg and Volodya were friends...

The fight lasted five to ten minutes. We did not reach the starting line only three hundred meters and retreated to the positions of the 3rd platoon, which had already dug in. Paratroopers stood nearby. And then Seryoga Stobetsky comes, he himself is blue-black, and says: “Spiers” and “Bull” are gone ... ".

I create four groups of four or five people, sniper Zhenya Metlikin (nickname "Uzbek") was planted in the bushes just in case and they went to pull out the dead, although this, of course, was an obvious adventure. On the way to the battlefield, we see a "body" that flickers in the forest. I look through binoculars - and this is a “spirit” in a makeshift armored coat, all hung with bulletproof vests. It turns out they are waiting for us. We return.

I ask the commander of the 3rd platoon Gleb Degtyarev: "Your everything?" He: "There is no one ... Metlikin ...". Well, how could you lose one out of five people? This is not one of thirty! .. I return, I go out onto the path - and then they start shooting at me! .. That is, the "spirits" were really waiting for us. I'm back again. I shout: "Metlikin!". Silence: "Uzbek!". And then he just seems to rise from under me. Me: “Why are you sitting, don’t go out?”. He: “And I thought it was the“ spirits ”that came. Maybe they know my last name. But about “Uzbek” they definitely cannot know. So I went out."

The result of this day was as follows: after the first battle, among the "spirits", I myself counted only sixteen corpses that had not been carried away. We lost Tolik Romanov and Ognev was wounded in the arm. The second battle - seven corpses at the "spirits", we have two dead, no one was injured. We were able to pick up the bodies of the two dead the next day, and Tolik Romanov only two weeks later.

Twilight has come. I report to the battalion commander: "mortar" on a high-rise on the initial, I'm three hundred meters above them. We decided to spend the night on the same site where we ended up after the battle. The place seemed convenient: on the right in the direction of our movement - a deep cliff, on the left - a smaller cliff. In the middle is a hill and a tree in the center. I decided to settle down there - from there, like Chapaev, I could clearly see everything around. They dug in, posted guards. Everything seems to be quiet...

And then the reconnaissance major from the paratroopers began to make a fire. He wanted to warm himself near the fire. Me: "What are you doing?" And, when he later went to bed, he again warned the major: "Carcasses!" But it was on this bonfire that the mines flew in a few hours later. So it happened: the fire was burned by some, and others died ...

Somewhere at three in the morning I woke up Degtyarev: “Your shift. I need to get some sleep. Remain senior. If the attack is from below - do not shoot, only grenades. I take off my bulletproof vest and RD (a paratrooper's backpack. - Ed.), I cover myself with them and lie down on a hill. In the RD I had twenty grenades. These grenades saved me later.

I woke up from a sharp sound and a flash of fire. It was right next to me that two mines exploded from a "cornflower" (Soviet automatic mortar of 82 mm caliber. Loading is cassette, four mines are placed in the cassette. - Ed.). (This mortar was installed on the UAZ, which we later nevertheless found and blew up.)

I immediately became deaf in my right ear. I can't understand anything at first. All around the wounded are moaning. Everyone is yelling, shooting... Almost simultaneously with the explosions, they started firing at us from both sides, and also from above. Apparently, the “spirits” wanted to take us by surprise immediately after the shelling. But the fighters were ready and this attack was immediately repulsed. The fight turned out to be fleeting, lasting only ten to fifteen minutes. When the “spirits” realized that they couldn’t take us in an impudent manner, they simply moved away.

If I had not gone to bed, then perhaps such a tragedy would not have happened. After all, before these two damned mines, there were two sighting shots from a mortar. And if one mine arrives, it's already bad. But if there are two, it means that they take it into the “fork”. For the third time, two mines in a row flew in and fell just five meters from the fire, which became a guide for the "spirits".

And only after the shooting stopped, I turned around and saw ... At the site of the explosions of mines, there was a bunch of wounded and killed ... Six people died immediately, more than twenty were seriously injured. I look: Seryoga Stobetsky is lying dead, Igor Yakunenkov is dead. Of the officers, only Gleb Degtyarev and I, plus the aircraft controller, survived. It was terrifying to look at the wounded: Seryoga Kulmin had a hole in his forehead and his eyes were flat, flowed out. Sashka Shibanov has a huge hole in his shoulder, Edik Kolechkov has a huge hole in his lung, a fragment flew into it ...

RD saved me. When I began to lift it, several fragments fell out of it, one of which hit the grenade directly. But the grenades were, of course, without fuses ...

I remember very well the very first moment: I see Seryoga Stobetsky torn. And then everything starts to rise up in my throat from the inside. But I say to myself: “Stop! You are the commander, take everything back!”. I don’t know by what effort of will, but it turned out ... But I was able to approach him only at six o’clock in the evening, when I calmed down a little. And he ran all day: the wounded groan, the soldiers need to be fed, the shelling continues ...

The seriously wounded began to die almost immediately. Vitalik Cherevan was dying especially terribly. Part of his body was torn off, but he still lived for about half an hour. Glass eyes. Sometimes something human appears for a second, then they turn glassy again ... His first cry after the explosions was: “Vietnam, help! ..” He addressed me with "you"! And then: "Vietnam, shoot ...". (I remember how later, at one of our meetings, his father grabbed me by the breasts, shook me and kept asking: “Well, why didn’t you shoot him, why didn’t you shoot him? ..” But I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t could...)

But (what a miracle of God!) Many of the wounded, who were supposed to die, survived. Seryozha Kulmin was lying next to me, head to head. He had such a hole in his forehead that his brains could be seen! .. So he not only survived - he even had his eyesight restored! True, he now walks with two titanium plates in his forehead. And Misha Blinov had a hole ten centimeters in diameter above his heart. He also survived and now has five sons. And Pasha Chukhnin from our company now has four sons.

We don’t have water for ourselves, even for the wounded - zero! .. I had pantacid tablets and chlorine tubes with me (disinfectants for water. - Ed.). But there is nothing to disinfect ... Then they remembered that the day before they had walked through impassable mud. The fighters began to filter this dirt. What happened, it was very difficult to call water. Muddy slush with sand and tadpoles... But there was still no other one.

All day trying to somehow help the wounded. The day before, we destroyed the “dukhovsky” dugout, in which there was powdered milk. A fire was lit, and this “water”, extracted from the mud, was stirred with dry milk and given to the wounded. We ourselves drank the same water with sand and tadpoles for a sweet soul. In general, I told the fighters that tadpoles are very useful - squirrels ... No one even had disgust. At first, pantacid was thrown into it for disinfection, and then they drank already and just like that ...

And the Grouping does not give the green light to the evacuation by "turntables". We are in a dense forest. Helicopters have nowhere to land ... During the next negotiations about the "turntables" I remembered: I have an aircraft controller! "Where is the airman?" We are looking for, looking for, but we can’t find it on our spot in any way. And then I turn around and see that he has dug a full-length trench with a helmet and is sitting in it. I don’t understand how he got the earth out of the trench! I couldn't even get through there.

Although it was forbidden for helicopters to hover, one commander of the "turntable" nevertheless said: "I'll hang." I gave the order to the sappers to clear the site. We had explosives. We blew up trees, age-old trees, in three girths. They began to prepare three wounded for dispatch. One, Aleksey Chacha, was hit by shrapnel on his right leg. He has a huge hematoma and cannot walk. I am preparing him for shipment, and I leave Seryozha Kulmin with a broken head. The sanitary instructor asks me in horror: “How? .. Comrade commander, why don’t you send him?”. I answer: “I will definitely save these three. But "heavy" - I do not know ... ". (For the fighters, it was a shock that the war has its own terrible logic. First of all, those who can be saved are saved here.)

But our hopes were not destined to come true. We never evacuated anyone by helicopter. In the Grouping, the "turntables" were given a final retreat and two columns were sent to us instead. But our battalion drivers in armored personnel carriers never made it through. And only in the end, by nightfall, five BMD paratroopers came to us.

With so many wounded and dead, we could not move a single step. And towards evening, the second wave of outgoing militants began to seep in. They fired at us from grenade launchers from time to time, but we already knew how to act: they just threw grenades from top to bottom.

I got in touch with the battalion commander. While we were talking, some Mamed intervened in the conversation (the connection was open, and our radio stations were caught by any scanner!). He began to talk some nonsense about ten thousand dollars that he would give us. The conversation ended with the fact that he offered to go one on one. Me: “Not weak! I will come." The fighters dissuaded me, but I really came to the appointed place alone. But no one showed up… Although now I understand very well that it was reckless on my part, to put it mildly.

I hear the rumble of the column. I'm going to go meet. Soldiers: "Comrade commander, just don't leave, don't leave...". It’s clear what’s the matter: the father is leaving, they are scared. I understand that it seems impossible to go, because as soon as the commander left, the situation becomes uncontrollable, but there is no one else to send! .. And I still went and, as it turned out, did a good job! The paratroopers got lost in the same place as we, when they almost reached the Makhkets. We still met, although with very big adventures ...

Our medic, Major Nitchik (call sign “Dose”), the battalion commander and his deputy, Seryoga Sheiko, came with the column. Somehow they drove a BMD onto our patch. And then the shelling begins again ... Battalion commander: "What is going on here with you?" After the shelling, the “spirits” themselves climbed. They probably decided to slip between us and our "mortar", which dug in three hundred meters on a high-rise. But we are already smart, we don’t shoot from machine guns, but only throw grenades down. And then our machine gunner Sasha Kondrashov suddenly rises and gives an endless burst from the PC in the opposite direction! .. I run up: “What are you doing?”. He: "Look, they have already come to us! ..". And indeed, I see that the “spirits” are thirty meters away. There were many, several dozen. They wanted, most likely, to impudently take us and surround us. But we drove them off with grenades. They couldn't break through.

I walk with a limp all day long, I can't hear well, although I don't stutter. (That's how it seemed to me. In fact, as the fighters later told me, I still stuttered like that!) And at that moment I didn’t think at all that it was a shell shock. All day running around: the wounded are dying, it is necessary to prepare the evacuation, it is necessary to feed the fighters, shelling goes on. Already in the evening I try to sit down for the first time - it hurts. He touched his back with his hand - blood. Medical paratrooper: "Come on, bend down ...". (This major has vast combat experience. Before that, I was horrified to see how he shreds Edik Musikaev with a scalpel and says: “Don't be afraid, the meat will grow!”.) And with his hand he pulled a fragment out of my back. This is where the pain hit me! For some reason, it gave the most to my nose! .. The major gives me a fragment: “Here, make a keychain.” (The second fragment was found only recently during an examination in the hospital. It is still sitting there, stuck in the spine and just a little bit did not reach the canal.)

They loaded the wounded on the BMD, then the dead. I gave their weapons to the commander of the 3rd platoon, Gleb Degtyarev, and left him in charge. And I myself, with the wounded and the dead, went to the medical battalion of the regiment.

We all looked terrible: all killed, bandaged, covered in blood. But ... while all in polished shoes and cleaned weapons. (By the way, we didn’t lose a single barrel, we even found the machine guns of all our dead.)

Twenty-five people were wounded, most of them were seriously wounded. They handed them over to the doctors. The most difficult thing remained - sending the dead. The problem was that some did not have documents with them, so I ordered my fighters to write their last name on each hand and put notes with the last name in their pants pocket. But when I started checking, it turned out that Stas Golubev mixed up the notes! I immediately imagined what would happen when the body arrived at the hospital: one thing was written on the hand, and another on the piece of paper! I twitch the shutter and think: I’ll kill him now ... I myself am surprised now at my rage at that moment ... Apparently, this was a reaction to stress, and the concussion had an effect. (Now Stas does not hold any grudge against me for this. After all, they were all boys at all and were generally afraid to approach the corpses ...)

And then the medical colonel gives me fifty grams of alcohol with ether. I drink this alcohol ... and I almost don’t remember anything else ... Then everything was like in a dream: either I washed myself, or they washed me ... I only remember: there was a warm shower.

I woke up: I was lying on a stretcher in front of the “turntable” in a clean blue RB (one-time underwear. - Ed.) of a submariner and they loaded me into this “turntable”. The first thought: “What about the company? ..”. After all, the commanders of platoons, squads and castle platoons either died or were wounded. There were only fighters left ... And as soon as I imagined what would happen in the company, the hospital immediately disappeared for me. I shout to Igor Meshkov: “Leave the hospital!”. (It then seemed to me that I was screaming. In fact, he hardly heard my whisper.) He: “There is to leave the hospital. Give me the commander!" And he begins to pull the stretcher back from the helicopter. The captain, who received me in the helicopter, does not give me a stretcher. The "bag" adjusts its armored personnel carrier, points the KPVT (heavy machine gun. - Ed.) at the "turntable": "Give the commander back ...". They freaked out: "Yes, take it! ..". And it turned out that my documents flew without me to the MOSN (special purpose medical unit. - Ed.), which then had very serious consequences ...

As I later found out, it was like this. A "turntable" arrives at MOSN. It contains my documents, but the stretcher is empty, there is no body ... And my torn clothes lie nearby. In MOSN they decided that since there was no body, then I burned down. As a result, a telephone message arrives in St. Petersburg addressed to the deputy commander of the Leningrad naval base, captain of the 1st rank Smuglin: "Lieutenant commander such and such died." But Smuglin knows me from the lieutenants! He began to think how to be, how to bury me. In the morning I called Captain 1st Rank Toporov, my immediate commander: “Prepare a load of two hundred. Toporov then told me: “I come into the office, I take out cognac - my hands are shaking right next to me. I pour into a glass - and then the bell rings. Fraction, set aside - he's alive! It turned out that when the body of Sergei Stobetsky arrived at the base, they began to look for mine. And my body, of course, no! They called Major Rudenko: "Where is the body?" He replies: “What a body! I saw him myself, he is alive!

And this is what actually happened to me. In my blue underwear as a submariner, I took a machine gun, got into an armored personnel carrier with the fighters and drove to Agishty. The battalion commander was already informed that I was sent to the hospital. When he saw me, he was delighted. Here also Yura Rudenko returned with a humanitarian aid. His father died, and he left the war to bury him.

I come to mine. There is a mess in the mouth. There was no security, the weapons were scattered, the fighters were "razgulyaevo" ... I said to Gleb: "What a mess ?!.". He: “Yes, ours are all around! That's all and relax ... ". Me: “So relaxed for the fighters, not for you!” He began to restore order, and everything quickly returned to its previous course.

Just then, the humanitarian aid arrived, which Yura Rudenko had brought: bottled water, food! This is after that water with sand and tadpoles! I myself drank six one and a half liter bottles of water at a time. I don’t understand how all this water in my body found a place for itself.

And then they bring me a parcel, which the young ladies have collected in a brigade in Baltiysk. And the parcel is addressed to me and Stobetsky. It contains my favorite coffee for me and chewing gum for him. And then such anguish washed over me! .. I received this parcel, but Sergey - no longer ...

We got up near the village of Agishty. "Tofiks" on the left, "northerners" on the right occupied the dominant heights on the way to the Makhkets, and we stepped back - in the middle.

At that time, only the dead in the company were thirteen people. But then, thank God, there were no more dead in my company. Of those who remained with me, I began to re-form the platoon.

On June 1, 1995, we replenish our ammunition and advance to Kirov-Yurt. Ahead is a tank with a minesweeper, then "shilki" (self-propelled anti-aircraft guns. - Ed.) And a battalion column of armored personnel carriers, I am in the lead. The task was set for me as follows: the column stops, the battalion turns around, and I storm high-rise 737 near Makhketov.

In front of the very high-rise (a hundred meters remained before it), a sniper fired at us. Three bullets whistled past me. They shout on the radio: “It hits you, it hits you! ..”. But the sniper didn’t hit me for another reason: usually the commander sits not in the commander’s seat, but above the driver. And this time I deliberately sat in the commander's seat. And although we had an order to remove the stars from shoulder straps, I did not remove my stars. The battalion commander made comments to me, and I told him: "Fuck off ... I'm an officer and I'm not going to take off the stars." (After all, officers with stars went to the front line even in the Great Patriotic War.)

We go to Kirov-Yurt. And we see a completely unrealistic picture, as if from an old fairy tale: a water mill is working ... I command - increase speed! I look - on the right, about fifty meters below, there is a ruined house, the second or third from the beginning of the street. Suddenly, a boy of ten or eleven years old runs out of it. I give a command to the column: "Do not shoot! ..". And then the boy throws a grenade at us! The grenade hits the poplar. (I remember well that it was double, diverged with a slingshot.) The grenade bounces off with a ricochet, falls under the boy and tears him apart ...

And the “dusharas” were so cunning! They come to the village, and there they are not given food! Then they from this village fire a volley towards the Grouping. The group, of course, is responsible for this village. On this basis, one can determine: if the village is destroyed, then it is not “spiritual”, but if it is intact, then it is theirs. Here Agishty, for example, were generally almost completely destroyed.

Over the Makhkets, the "turntables" loiter. Aviation passes from above. The battalion begins to turn around. Our company is moving forward. We assumed that we, most likely, would not meet organized resistance and that there could only be ambushes. We went to the top. There were no "spirits" on it. We stopped to determine where to stand.

From above it was clearly visible that the houses in Makhetah were intact. Moreover, here and there stood real palaces with towers and columns. It was evident from everything that they were built recently. On the way, I remembered the following picture: a large rural house is solid, a grandmother with a little white flag is standing near it ...

In Makhkety, Soviet money was still in use. The locals told us: “Since 1991, our children have not gone to school, there are no kindergartens, and no one receives a pension. We are not against you. Thank you, of course, for getting rid of the militants. But it's time for you to go home." This is literal.

The locals immediately began to treat us with compotes, but we were careful. Aunt, the head of the administration, says: "Don't be afraid, you see - I'm drinking." Me: "No, let the man drink." As I understand it, there was a tripartite power in the village: the mullah, the elders and the head of the administration. Moreover, this aunt was the head of the administration (she graduated from a technical school in St. Petersburg at one time).

On June 2, this “chapter” comes running to me: “Yours are robbing ours!”. Before that, of course, we walked around the yards: we looked at what kind of people, whether there were weapons. We follow her and see an oil painting: representatives of our largest law enforcement structure take out carpets and all that from the palaces with columns. Moreover, they arrived not in armored personnel carriers, which they usually drove, but in infantry fighting vehicles. Moreover, they changed into infantry clothes ... I so marked their elder - major! And he said: "Appear here again - I will kill you! ..". They didn’t even try to resist, they were instantly blown away by the wind ... And I said to the locals: “Write on all the houses - “Vietnam farm”. DCBF". And the next day, these words were written on every fence. The battalion commander even took offense at me about this ...

At the same time, near Vedeno, ours captured a column of armored vehicles, about a hundred units - infantry fighting vehicles, tanks and BTR-80. The most funny thing was that the armored personnel carrier with the inscription "Baltic Fleet", which we received from the Grouping on the first "walker", was in this column! .. They did not even erase this inscription and the letter "B" on all wheels, stylized under the Vietnamese hieroglyph ... On the front of the shield it was written: "Freedom to the Chechen people!" and “God and St. Andrew's flag are with us!”.

We dug deep. Moreover, they started on June 2, and already finished on the 3rd in the morning. Assigned landmarks, sectors of fire, agreed with the mortars. And by the morning of the next day, the company was completely ready for battle. Then we only expanded and strengthened our positions. For all the time of our stay here, the fighters never sat down with me. For days on end we settled down: dug trenches, connected them with communication lines, built dugouts. They made a real pyramid for weapons, surrounded everything around with boxes of sand. We continued to dig in until we left these positions. They lived according to the Charter: getting up, physical exercises, morning divorce, guards. The fighters cleaned their shoes regularly ...

Above me, I hung the St. Andrew's flag and a home-made "Vietnamese" flag made from the Soviet pennant "To the leader of the socialist competition." We must remember what it was during the time: the collapse of the state, some bandit groups against others ... Therefore, I did not see the Russian flag anywhere, and everywhere there was either the St. Andrew's flag or the Soviet one. Infantry generally traveled with red flags. And the most valuable thing in this war was - a friend and comrade nearby, and nothing more.

The "spirits" were well aware of how many people I had. But apart from shelling, they did not dare to do anything else. After all, the task of the "spirits" was not to die heroically for their Chechen homeland, but to account for the money received, so they simply did not meddle where they would probably be killed.

And on the radio comes a message that militants attacked an infantry regiment near Selmenhausen. Our losses are more than a hundred people. I was at the infantry and saw what kind of organization they have there, unfortunately. After all, every second soldier there was captured not in battle, but because they got into the habit of stealing chickens from local residents. Although the guys themselves, as a human being, could well be understood: there was nothing to eat ... These local residents grabbed them in order to stop this theft. And then they called: “Take yours, but only so that they don’t go to us anymore.”

We have a team - do not go anywhere. And how not to go anywhere when we are constantly shelled, and various "shepherds" from the mountains come. We hear the neighing of horses. We walked around constantly, but I did not report anything to the battalion commander.

Local "walkers" began to come to me. I told them: we go here, but we don’t go there, we do this, but we don’t do this ... After all, we were constantly fired at by a sniper from the direction of one of the palaces. We, of course, responded by firing everything we had in that direction. Somehow Isa comes, the local "authority": "I was asked to say ...". I told him: “While they are shooting at us from there, we will also hammer.” (A little later, we made a sortie in that direction, and the issue of shelling from this direction was closed.)

Already on June 3, in the middle gorge, we find a field mined “Dukhovsky” hospital. It was evident that the hospital had recently operated - blood was visible all around. Equipment and medicines "spirits" abandoned. I have never seen such medical luxury at all... Four gasoline generators, water tanks connected by pipelines... Shampoos, disposable razors, blankets... And what medicines there were!.. Our doctors simply sobbed with envy. Blood substitutes are produced in France, Holland, Germany. Dressing materials, surgical threads. And we really didn’t have anything but promedol (an anesthetic. - Ed.). The conclusion suggests itself - what forces are thrown against us, what finances! .. And what does the Chechen people have to do with it? ..

I got there first, so I chose what was most valuable to me: bandages, disposable sheets, blankets, kerosene lamps. Then he called the colonel of the medical service and showed all this wealth. His reaction is the same as mine. He simply fell into a trance: stitching materials for heart vessels, the most modern medicines ... After that, we were in direct contact with him: he asked me to let me know if I found anything else. But I had to contact him for a completely different reason.

There was a tap near the Bas River, from where the locals took water, so we drank this water without fear. We drive up to the crane, and then one of the elders stops us: “Commander, help! We have a problem - a woman gives birth to a sick woman. The elder spoke with a thick accent. A young guy stood nearby as a translator, in case something was not clear. Nearby I see foreigners in jeeps from the Doctors Without Borders mission, like the Dutch in conversation. I to them - help! They: "No-ee... We only help the rebels." I was so taken aback by their answer that I didn’t even know how to react. He called the medical colonel on the radio: "Come, you need to help with childbirth." He immediately arrived on a "tablet" with one of his own. Seeing the woman in labor, he said: "I thought you were joking ...".

They put the woman in a "pill". She looked scary: she was all yellow ... She was not giving birth for the first time, but, probably, there were some complications due to hepatitis. The Colonel himself took delivery, and gave the child to me and began to put some droppers on the woman. Out of habit, it seemed to me that the child looked very creepy ... I wrapped him in a towel and held him in my arms until the colonel freed himself. Here is a story that happened to me. I did not think, I did not guess that I would participate in the birth of a new citizen of Chechnya.

From the beginning of June, somewhere at the TPU, a cooker was working, but hot food practically did not reach us - we had to eat dry rations and pasture. (I taught the fighters to diversify the diet of dry rations - stew for the first, second and third - due to pasture. Tarragon grass was brewed like tea. You could cook soup from rhubarb. And if you add grasshoppers there, you get such a rich soup, and again protein "And earlier, when we were standing in Germenchug, we saw a lot of hares around. You go with a machine gun behind your back - then a hare jumps out from under your feet! Those seconds while you take the machine gun, you spent - and the hare is gone ... Only the machine gun was removed - they are here again like here. I tried to shoot at least one for two days, but gave up this occupation - it was useless ... I taught the boys to eat lizards and snakes. Catching them turned out to be much easier than shooting hares. Of course, there is little pleasure from such food, but what to do - there is something you need ...) Water is also a problem: it was cloudy all around, and we drank it only through bactericidal sticks.

One morning, local residents came with a local district police officer, a senior lieutenant. He even showed us some red crusts. They say: we know that you have nothing to eat. There are cows walking around. You can shoot a cow with painted horns - this is a collective farm. But do not touch the unpainted ones - these are personal. “Good” seemed to be given, but it was somehow difficult for us to step over ourselves. Then, nevertheless, one cow was killed near Bas. They killed him, but what to do with her? .. And then Dima Gorbatov comes (I put him to cook). He is a village guy and, in front of the astonished public, completely butchered a cow in a few minutes! ..

We have not seen fresh meat for a very long time. And then there's the barbecue! Another clipping was hung out in the sun, wrapped in bandages. And after three days it turned out dried meat - no worse than in the store.

What bothered me more was the constant night shelling. Of course, we did not immediately open fire back. Let's notice where the shooting came from, and slowly go to this area. Here the esbeerka (SBR, short-range reconnaissance radar station. - Ed.) helped us a lot.

One evening, we with the scouts (there were seven of us), trying to go unnoticed, went towards the sanatorium, from where they shot at us the day before. We came - we find four "beds", next to a small mined warehouse. We didn't remove anything, we just set our own traps. Everything worked at night. It turns out that they didn’t go in vain ... But we no longer checked the results, for us it was the main thing that there was no more shooting from this direction.

When we returned safely this time, for the first time in a long time I felt satisfied - after all, the work that I know how to do began. In addition, now I didn’t have to do everything myself, but something could already be entrusted to someone else. Only a week and a half has passed, and people have been replaced. War teaches quickly. But it was then that I realized that if we had not pulled out the dead, but left them, then the next day no one would have gone into battle. In war, this is the most important thing. The guys saw that we were not abandoning anyone.

Our outings were constant. Once we left the armored personnel carrier below and climbed into the mountains. We saw the apiary and began to inspect it: it was converted into a mine class! Right there, in the apiary, we found the lists of the company of the Islamic battalion. I opened them and couldn't believe my eyes - everything is like ours: the 8th company. In the list of information: first name, last name and from what place come from. A very interesting composition of the squad: four grenade launchers, two snipers and two machine gunners. I ran with these lists for a whole week - where to give it? Then I handed it over to the headquarters, but I'm not sure that this list has reached the right place. All this was up to the light bulb.

Not far from the apiary, they found a pit with an ammunition depot (one hundred and seventy boxes of sub-caliber and high-explosive tank shells). While we were looking at all this, the battle began. A machine gun started firing at us. The fire is very dense. And Misha Mironov, a village boy, as soon as he saw the apiary, became not himself. He lit the smoke, pulls out frames with honeycombs, looks like a bee with a twig. I told him: "Miron, shoot!". And he went into a rage, bounces, but does not throw a frame with honey! We have nothing special to answer - the distance is six hundred meters. We jumped onto the armored personnel carrier and left along Bas. It became clear that the militants, although from afar, grazed their mine class and ammunition (but then our sappers blew up these shells anyway).

We returned to our place and pounced on honey, and even with milk (the locals allowed us to occasionally milk one cow). And after the snakes, after the grasshoppers, after the tadpoles, we experienced simply indescribable pleasure! .. It's a pity, but there was no bread.

After the apiary, I told Gleb, the commander of the reconnaissance platoon, "Go, look all around further." The next day, Gleb reports to me: “I kind of found a cache.” Let's go. We see a cave with cement formwork in the mountain, it went fifty meters deep. The entrance is camouflaged very carefully. You can only see it if you get close.

The entire cave is lined with boxes of mines and explosives. I opened the box - there are brand new anti-personnel mines! In our battalion we only had machine guns as old as ours. There are so many boxes that it was impossible to count them. Only one plastite I counted thirteen tons. The total weight was easy to determine, because the boxes with plastite were marked. There was also explosives for the "Serpent Gorynych" (mine-clearing machine by explosion. - Ed.), And squibs for him.

And in my company the plastic was bad, old. To make something out of it, it was necessary to soak it in gasoline. But, it’s clear that if the fighters start to soak something, then some kind of nonsense will definitely happen ... And then it’s fresh. Judging by the packaging, 1994 release. Out of greed, I took four "sausages" for myself, five meters each. He also collected electric detonators, which we also did not have in sight. The sappers were called.

And then our regimental intelligence arrived. I told them that the day before we had found a militant base. "Spirits" were fifty people. Therefore, we did not make contact with them, only marked the place on the map.

Scouts on three armored personnel carriers pass by our 213th checkpoint, drive into the gorge and start firing from the KPVT on the slopes! I also thought to myself: “Wow, intelligence went on ... I immediately identified myself.” I thought it was kind of crazy at the time. And my worst premonitions came true: in a few hours they were covered just in the area of ​​​​the point that I showed them on the map ...

The sappers were minding their own business, preparing to blow up the explosives warehouse. Dima Karakulko, deputy commander of our battalion for weapons, was also here. I gave him a smooth-bore gun found in the mountains. Apparently, her “spirits” were removed from a wrecked infantry fighting vehicle and placed on a makeshift platform with a battery. An unsightly-looking thing, but you can shoot from it by aiming at the barrel.

I was about to go to my 212th checkpoint. Then I saw that the sappers had brought firecrackers to detonate the electric detonators. These firecrackers operate on the same principle as a piezo lighter: when a button is mechanically pressed, an impulse is generated that activates an electric detonator. Only the cracker has one serious drawback - it works at about one hundred and fifty meters, then the impulse fades. There is a "twist" - it operates at two hundred and fifty meters. I told Igor, the commander of a platoon of sappers, “Did you go there yourself?” Him: "No." Me: "So go and have a look...". He returned, I see - he is already unwinding the “vole”. They seem to have unwound to the fullest (this is more than a thousand meters). But when they blew up the warehouse, they were still covered with earth.

Soon we set the table. We have a feast again - honey with milk ... And then I turned around and I can’t understand anything: the mountain on the horizon begins to slowly rise up along with the forest, with trees ... And this mountain is six hundred meters wide and about the same height. Then there was fire. And then I was thrown a few meters by an explosive wave. (And this happens at a distance of five kilometers to the explosion site!) And when I fell, I saw a real mushroom, like in training films about atomic explosions. And this is what happened: the sappers blew up the "Dukhovsky" explosives warehouse, which we discovered earlier. When we sat down at the table again in our clearing, I asked: “Where do the spices and peppers come from?”. But it turned out that it was not pepper, but ashes and earth that fell from the sky.

After some time, the air flashed: "The scouts were ambushed!". Dima Karakulko immediately took the sappers, who had previously been preparing the warehouse for the explosion, and went to pull out the scouts! But they also went to the armored personnel carrier! And also fell into the same ambush! And what could the sappers do - they have four stores per person and that's it ...

The battalion commander told me: “Seryoga, you are covering the exit, because it is not known where and how our people will come out!”. I after all stood just between three gorges. Then the scouts and sappers, in groups and one by one, went out through me. There was a big problem with the exit in general: the fog settled down, it was necessary to make sure that our own people did not shoot their own departing ones.

Gleb and I raised our 3rd platoon, which was stationed at the 213th checkpoint, and what was left of the 2nd platoon. It was two or three kilometers from the checkpoint to the ambush site. But ours went on foot and not through the gorge, but through the mountains! Therefore, when the "spirits" saw that it would not be possible to deal with these just like that, they shot and retreated. Then ours did not have a single loss, either killed or wounded. We probably knew that former experienced Soviet officers fought on the side of the militants, because in the previous battle I clearly heard four single shots - this from Afghanistan meant a signal to withdraw.

With intelligence it happened something like this. "Spirits" saw the first group on three armored personnel carriers. Hit. Then they saw another, also on an armored personnel carrier. Hit again. Our guys, who drove the "spirits" away and were the first to be at the ambush site, said that the sappers and Dima himself fired back to the last from under the armored personnel carriers.

The day before, when Igor Yakunenkov died from a mine explosion, Dima kept asking me to take him on some outing, because he and Yakunenkov were godfathers. And I think that Dima wanted to personally take revenge on the "spirits". But then I firmly told him: “Don’t go anywhere. Mind your own business". I understood that Dima and the sappers had no chance of pulling out the scouts. He himself was not prepared to perform such tasks, and the sappers too! They learned differently ... Although, of course, well done for rushing to the rescue. And it wasn't panties...

Not all scouts died. Throughout the night, my fighters took out the rest. The last of them came out only on the evening of the seventh of June. But of the sappers who went with Dima, only two or three people survived.

In the end, we pulled out absolutely everyone: the living, the wounded, and the dead. And this again had a very good effect on the mood of the fighters - once again they were convinced that we were not abandoning anyone.

On June 9, information came about the assignment of ranks: Yakunenkov - major (it turned out posthumously), Stobetsky - senior lieutenant ahead of schedule (also turned out posthumously). And here's what's interesting: the day before we went to the source of drinking water. We return - there is a very ancient old woman with pita bread in her hands and Isa is nearby. He tells me: “Happy holiday to you, commander! Just don't tell anyone." And he hands over the bag. And in the bag - a bottle of champagne and a bottle of vodka. Then I already knew that those Chechens who drink vodka are given a hundred sticks on their heels, and those who sell - two hundred. And the next day after this congratulation, I was ahead of schedule (exactly one week ahead of schedule) was awarded the rank, as my fighters joked, "major of the third rank." This again indirectly proved that the Chechens knew absolutely everything about us.

On June 10, we went on another sortie, to high-rise 703. Of course, not directly. First, they allegedly went in an armored personnel carrier to fetch water. The fighters slowly loaded water onto the armored personnel carrier: oh, they spilled it, then again it was necessary to smoke, then we had a trend with the locals ... Meanwhile, the guys and I carefully went down the river. First they found garbage. (It is always moved away from the parking lot, so that even if the enemy stumbles upon it, they would not be able to accurately determine the location of the parking lot itself.) Then we began to notice newly trodden paths. It is clear that the militants are somewhere nearby.

We walked quietly. We see the "spiritual" guard - two people. They sit and chat about something. It is clear that they must be removed silently so that they cannot make a single sound. But I have no one to send to remove the sentries - they did not teach the sailors on the ships this. Yes, and psychologically, especially for the first time, this is a very terrible thing. Therefore, I left two (a sniper and a fighter with a machine gun for silent shooting) to cover me and went myself ...

Security removed, let's move on. But the “spirits” were still alert (maybe a branch cracked or some other noise) and ran out of the cache. And it was a dugout, equipped according to all the rules of military science (the entrance was in a zigzag pattern so that it was impossible to put everyone inside with one grenade). My left flank had already come close to the cache, five meters were left to the “spirits”. In such a situation, the one who first pulls the shutter wins. We are in a better position: after all, they did not expect us, but we were ready, so ours fired first and put everyone on the spot.

I showed Misha Mironov, our chief honey beekeeper, and part-time grenade launcher, to the window in the cache. And he managed to shoot from a grenade launcher from eighty meters so that he hit exactly this window! So we overwhelmed the machine gunner, who hid in the cache.

The result of this fleeting battle: the “spirits” have seven corpses and I don’t know how many wounded, since they left. We don't have a single scratch.

And the next day, a man came out of the forest again from the same direction. I shot from a sniper rifle in that direction, but specifically not at him: what if it was “peaceful”. He turns and runs back into the forest. In the scope I see - he has a machine gun behind his back ... So he turned out to be not at all peaceful. But it was not possible to remove it. Gone.

The locals sometimes asked us to sell them weapons. Once grenade launchers ask: "We will give you vodka ...". But I sent them very far. Unfortunately, the sale of weapons was not such a rarity. I remember that back in May I came to the market and saw how the soldiers of the Samara special forces were selling grenade launchers! .. I went to their officer: “What is this going on?”. And he: "Calm down ...". It turns out that they took out the head part of the grenade, and in its place they inserted a simulator with plastite. I even had a recording on a phone camera of how such a “charged” grenade launcher tore off the “spirit” head, and the “spirits” themselves filmed it.

On June 11, Isa comes to me and says: “We have a mine. Help clear out." My checkpoint is very close, two hundred meters to the mountains. Let's go to his garden. I looked - nothing dangerous. But he still asked to be picked up. We stand and talk. And Isa was with his grandchildren. He says: "Show the boy how the grenade launcher shoots." I shot, and the boy got scared, almost cried.

And at that moment, on a subconscious level, I felt rather than saw flashes of shots. I instinctively scooped up the boy in an armful and fell with him. At the same time I feel two blows in the back, two bullets hit me ... Isa does not understand what's the matter, rushes to me: “What happened? ..” And then the sounds of shots reach me. And I had a spare titanium plate in my pocket on the back of the bulletproof vest (I still have it). So both bullets pierced through this plate, but did not go further. (After this incident, complete respect began for us on the part of peaceful Chechens! ..)

On June 16, the battle begins at my 213th checkpoint! "Spirits" are moving to the checkpoint from two directions, there are twenty of them. But they do not see us, they look in the opposite direction, where they attack. And from this side, the “spiritual” sniper hits ours. And I see the place where it works from! We go down the Bass and come across the first guard, about five people. They did not shoot, but simply covered the sniper. But we went behind their lines, so we instantly shot all five at close range. And then we notice the sniper himself. Next to him are two more submachine gunners. We crushed them too. I shout to Zhenya Metlikin: "Cover me! ..". It was necessary that he cut off the second part of the "spirits", which we saw on the other side of the sniper. And I myself rush for a sniper. He runs, turns, shoots at me with a rifle, runs again, turns again and shoots ...

Dodging a bullet is completely unrealistic. It was useful that I knew how to run after the shooter in such a way as to create maximum difficulties for him in aiming. As a result, the sniper never hit me, although he was fully armed: in addition to the Belgian rifle, there was an AKSU assault rifle behind his back, and a twenty-shot nine-millimeter Beretta on his side. It's not a gun, it's just a song! Nickel-plated, two-handed! .. He grabbed the Beretta when I almost caught up with him. This is where the knife comes in handy. I got a sniper...

They took him back. He limped (I stabbed him in the thigh with a knife, as it should be), but he walked. By this time, the fighting had ceased everywhere. And from the front, our "spirits" were shunned, and from the rear we hit them. "Spirits" in such a situation almost always leave: they are not woodpeckers. I understood this during the fighting in January 1995 in Grozny. If during their attack you do not leave the position, but stand or, even better, go towards them, they leave.

Everyone's mood is upbeat: the "spirits" were driven away, the sniper was taken, everyone is safe. And Zhenya Metlikin asked me: “Comrade commander, who did you dream about the most in the war?” I answer: "Daughter." He: “But think about it: this bastard could leave your daughter without a father! May I cut off his head? Me: "Zhenya, fuck off... We need him alive." And the sniper is limping next to us, and he is listening to this conversation ... I understood well that the “spirits” swagger only when they feel safe. And this one, as soon as we took it, became a little mouse, no arrogance. And he has about thirty serifs on his rifle. I didn’t even count them, there was no desire, because behind every notch is someone’s life ...

While we were leading the sniper, Zhenya addressed me all these forty minutes with other proposals, for example: “If it’s impossible to head, then let’s at least cut off his hands. Or I’ll put a grenade in his pants…” Of course, we didn't intend to do anything like that. But the sniper was already psychologically ready for interrogation by the regimental special officer ...

According to the plan, we were supposed to fight until September 1995. But then Basayev seized hostages in Budyonnovsk and, among other conditions, demanded the withdrawal of paratroopers and marines from Chechnya. Or, in extreme cases, withdraw at least the Marines. It became clear that we would be taken out.

By mid-June, only the body of the deceased Tolik Romanov remained in the mountains. True, for some time there was a ghostly hope that he was alive and went out to the infantry. But then it turned out that the foot soldiers had his namesake. We had to go to the mountains, where there was a fight, and take Tolik.

Before that, for two weeks, I asked the battalion commander: “Give me, I’ll go and pick him up. I don't need platoons. I’ll take two, so it’s a thousand times easier to go through the forest than in a column. But until mid-June, I did not receive a “go-ahead” from the battalion commander.

But now they are taking us out, and I finally got permission to go for Romanov. I build a checkpoint and say: “I need five volunteers, I am the sixth.” And… not a single sailor takes a step forward. I came to my dugout and thought: “How is it?”. And only an hour and a half later it dawned on me. I take the connection and tell everyone: “You probably think that I am not afraid? But I have something to lose, I have a little daughter. And I'm afraid a thousand times more, because I'm also afraid for all of you. Five minutes pass and the first sailor comes up: "Comrade commander, I will go with you." Then the second, third ... Only a few years later, the fighters told me that until that moment they perceived me as some kind of combat robot, a superman who does not sleep, is not afraid of anything and acts like an automaton.

And the day before, a “bitch udder” jumped out on my left hand (hydradenitis, purulent inflammation of the sweat glands. - Ed.), A reaction to the injury. It hurts unbearably, he suffered all night. Then I felt for myself that with any gunshot wound, it is necessary to go to the hospital to clean the blood. And since I suffered a wound in my back on my legs, some kind of internal infection began. Tomorrow in battle, and I have huge abscesses under my armpit, and boils in my nose. I cured myself of this infection with burdock leaves. But for more than a week I suffered from this infection.

We were given MTLB, and at five twenty in the morning we went to the mountains. On the way, we came across two patrols of militants. Each had ten people. But the "spirits" did not join the battle and left without even firing back. It was here that they left the "UAZ" with that damned "cornflower", from the mines of which so many people suffered in our country. "Cornflower" at that time was already broken.

When we arrived at the battlefield, we immediately realized that we had found the body of Romanov. We didn't know if Tolik's body was mined. Therefore, two sappers first pulled him from his place with a “cat”. We had doctors with us who collected what was left of him. We packed our things - a few photographs, a notebook, pens and an Orthodox cross. It was very hard to see all this, but what to do ... This was our last duty.

I tried to restore the course of those two fights. Here's what happened: when the first battle began and Ognev was wounded, our guys from the 4th platoon scattered in different directions and began to shoot back. They fired back for about five minutes, and then the commander of the platoon gave the command to retreat.

Gleb Sokolov, the medical officer of the company, was bandaging Ognev's hand at that time. A crowd of ours with machine guns ran down, on the way they blew up the Utyos (12.7 mm NSV heavy machine gun - Ed.) and AGS (automatic easel grenade launcher. - Ed.). But due to the fact that the commander of the 4th platoon, the commander of the 2nd platoon and his “deputy” fled in the forefront (they fled so far that they later went out not even on ours, but on the infantry), Tolik Romanov had to end cover the retreat of everyone and shoot back for about fifteen minutes .... I think that the moment he got up, the sniper hit him in the head.

Tolik fell off a fifteen-meter cliff. There was a fallen tree below. He hung on it. When we went downstairs, his things were pierced through with bullets. We walked on spent cartridges like on a carpet. It seems that the "spirits" of his already dead riddled with anger.

When we took Tolik and left the mountains, the battalion commander told me: “Seryoga, you are the last to leave the mountains.” And I pulled out all the remnants of the battalion. And when there was no one left in the mountains, I sat down, and I felt so sick ... Everything seems to be ending, and therefore the first psychological return began, some kind of relaxation, or something. I sat for about half an hour and I go out - my tongue is on my shoulder, and my shoulders are below my knees ... The battalion commander shouts: “Are you all right?”. It turns out that during these half an hour, when the last fighter came out, and I was not there, they almost turned gray. Chukalkin: "Well, Seryoga, you give ...". I didn't think they could be so worried about me.

I wrote awards for the Hero of Russia for Oleg Yakovlev and Anatoly Romanov. After all, Oleg until the last moment tried to pull out his friend Shpilko, although they were hit with grenade launchers, and Tolik, at the cost of his life, covered the retreat of his comrades. But the battalion commander said: "The fighters of the Hero are not allowed." Me: "What's wrong? Who said that? They both died saving their comrades!..” The battalion commander snapped: “It’s not allowed according to the order, an order from the Group.”

When Tolik's body was brought to the location of the company, the three of us in an armored personnel carrier drove for the "UAZ" on which that damned "cornflower" was standing. For me, this was a matter of principle: after all, so many of our people died because of it!

We found the UAZ without much difficulty, it contained about twenty cumulative anti-tank grenades. Here we see that the UAZ cannot go under its own power. Something stuck in him, so the “spirits” abandoned him. While we were checking to see if it was mined, while the cable was being hooked, it was obvious that they made some kind of noise, and militants began to gather at this noise. But we somehow slipped through, although the last section was driving like this: I am driving a UAZ, and an APC is pushing me from behind.

When we left the danger zone, I could neither spit out nor swallow saliva - my whole mouth was tied from experiences. Now I understand that the UAZ was not worth the life of the two boys who were with me. But thank God it worked out...

When we had already gone down to our own, in addition to the UAZ, the armored personnel carrier also completely broke down. Doesn't drive at all. Here we see the St. Petersburg RUBOP. We told them: "Help with the armored personnel carrier." They: “And what is this UAZ?” We explained. They are on the radio to someone: "UAZ" and "cornflower" from the Marines! It turns out that two detachments of the RUBOP have been hunting for the "cornflower" for a long time - after all, he fired not only at us. We began to negotiate how in St. Petersburg they will cover the clearing on this occasion. They ask: “How many of you were there?”. We answer: "Three ...". They: "How three? ..". And they had two officer groups of twenty-seven people in each engaged in this search ...

Next to RUBOP we see correspondents of the second television channel, they arrived at the battalion's TPU. They ask: “What can we do for you?”. I say, "Call my parents at home and tell them you saw me at sea." My parents later told me: “They called us from television! They said they saw you in a submarine!” And my second request was to call Kronstadt and tell my family that I was alive.

After these races through the mountains in an armored personnel carrier, the five of us went to Bas to take a dip in the UAZ. I have four magazines with me, the fifth one is in the machine gun and one grenade in the grenade launcher. The fighters generally only have one store. We swim ... And then they undermine the armored personnel carrier of our battalion commander!

"Spirits" passed along the Bas, mined the road and rushed in front of the armored personnel carrier. Then the scouts said that it was revenge for the nine who were shot at TPU. (We had one alcoholic rear guard at TPU. Somehow they arrived peacefully, got out of the nine car. And he is cool ... He took it and shot the car with a machine gun for no reason at all).

A terrible mess begins: our guys take us with the guys for "spirits" and start shooting. My fighters in shorts are jumping, barely dodging bullets.

I give Oleg Ermolaev, who was next to me, the command to move away - he does not leave. Again I shout: “Go away!”. He takes a step back and stands. (The fighters only later told me that they had appointed Oleg to be my “bodyguard” and told me not to leave my side.)

I see the departing "spirits"! .. It turned out that we ended up in their rear. That was the task: to somehow hide from the fire of their own, and not to miss the “spirits”. But, unexpectedly for us, they began to leave not for the mountains, but through the village.

The one who fights better wins the war. But the personal fate of a particular person is a mystery. No wonder they say that "a bullet is a fool." This time, a total of sixty people were shooting at us from four sides, of which about thirty were their own, who mistook us for "spirits". In addition to this, mortars were hitting us. Bullets flew around like bumblebees! And no one even got hooked! ..

I reported to Major Sergei Sheiko, who remained behind the battalion commander, about the UAZ. At first, TPU did not believe me, but then they examined me and confirmed: this is the one with the “cornflower”.

And on June 22, some lieutenant colonel comes to me with Sheiko and says: “This UAZ is “peaceful”. From Makhketov came for him, he must be given. But even the day before, I felt how things could end, and ordered my guys to mine the UAZ. I told the lieutenant colonel: "We will definitely give it back! ..". And I look at Seryoga Sheiko and say: “Did you yourself understand what you are asking me about?” He: "I have such an order." Here I give my fighters the go-ahead, and the "UAZ" in front of the astonished public takes off into the air! ..

Sheiko says: “I will punish you! I am removing you from command of the checkpoint!” Me: “But there is no checkpoint anymore…”. He: “Then you will be an operational duty officer at TPU today!” But, as they say, there would be no happiness, but misfortune helped, and in fact I just slept for the first time that day - I slept from eleven in the evening until six in the morning. After all, all the days in the war before that there was not a single night when I would go to bed before six in the morning. Yes, and I usually slept only from six to eight in the morning - and that's it ...

We begin to prepare for the march to Khankala. And we were about a hundred and fifty kilometers from Grozny. Just before the start of the movement, we receive an order: to hand over weapons and ammunition, leave one magazine and one underbarrel grenade with the officer, and the soldiers should not have anything at all. The order is verbally given to me by Seryoga Sheiko. I immediately take a combat stance and report: “Comrade Major of the Guard! The 8th company has handed over the ammunition. He understood…". And then he himself reports upstairs: "Comrade Colonel, we have passed everything." Colonel: "Are you sure you passed?" Seryoga: “Exactly, passed!”. But everyone understood. A sort of psychological study... Well, after what we did with the militants in the mountains, who would think of going in a column for one hundred and fifty kilometers across Chechnya without weapons!.. We arrived without incident. But I am sure: only because we did not surrender our weapons and ammunition. After all, the Chechens knew everything about us.

On June 27, 1995, loading began in Khankala. The paratroopers came to snatch us - they were looking for weapons, ammunition ... But we prudently got rid of everything superfluous. I only felt sorry for the "Beretta" trophy, I had to part ...

When it became clear that the war was ending for us, the rear began a struggle for awards. Already in Mozdok I see a rear guard - he writes an award sheet for himself. I told him: “Yes, what are you doing? ..”. He: “If you perform here, I won’t give you a certificate!” Me: “Yes, you came here for help. And I pulled out all the boys: both the living, and the wounded, and the dead! ..». I got so wound up that after this “conversation” of ours, the personnel officer ended up in the hospital. But here's what's interesting: everything that he received from me, he issued as a shell shock and acquired additional benefits for this ...

We experienced more stress in Mozdok than at the beginning of the war! We go and marvel - people walk ordinary, not military. Women, children ... We have lost the habit of all this. Then they took me to the market. There I bought a real barbecue. We also made kebabs in the mountains, but there was neither salt nor spices. And then meat with ketchup... A fairy tale!.. And in the evening the lights on the streets lit up! It's amazing, and that's all...

We approach a quarry filled with water. The water in it is blue, transparent! .. And on the other side, the children run! And we in what were, in that and plopped into the water. Then we undressed and, like decent men, in shorts, swam across to the other side, where people were swimming. From the edge of the family: Ossetian father, child-girl and mother - Russian. And then the wife begins to shout loudly at her husband for not taking water for the child to drink. And after Chechnya, it seemed to us complete savagery: how is a woman commanding a man? Nonsense! .. And I involuntarily say: “Woman, why are you shouting? See how much water is around. She says to me: “Are you shell-shocked?”. I answer: "Yes." Pause... And then she sees the badge around my neck, and it finally hits her, and she says: "Oh, I'm sorry...". Here it already dawns on me that it is I who drink water from this quarry and rejoice at how pure it is, but not them. They won't drink it, let alone give the baby water, that's for sure. I say: "You must excuse me." And we left...

I am grateful to fate that she brought me together with those with whom I ended up in the war. I feel especially sorry for Sergei Stobetsky. Although I was already a captain and he was only a young lieutenant, I learned a lot from him. And on top of that, he behaved like a real officer. And sometimes I caught myself thinking: “Was I the same at his age?” I remember when paratroopers came to us after the explosion of mines, their lieutenant approached me and asked: “Where is Stobetsky?” It turns out that they were in the same platoon at the school. I showed him the body, and he said, "Out of our platoon of twenty-four, only three are still alive today." It was the release of the Ryazan airborne school in 1994 ...

It was very difficult to meet with the relatives of the dead afterwards. It was then that I realized how important it is for relatives to get at least some thing as a keepsake. In Baltiysk, I came to the house of the wife and son of the deceased Igor Yakunenkov. And there sit the rear and talk so emotionally and vividly, as if they saw everything with their own eyes. I could not stand it and said: “You know, don't believe what they say. They weren't there. Take it as a memento." And I give Igor's flashlight. You should have seen how carefully they took this scratched, broken cheap flashlight in their hands! And then his son started crying...

Marines in the Chechen conflict

Lieutenant General Ivan Skuratov answers questions from Krasnaya Zvezda.

Ivan Sidorovich, a lot has been written and told about the sailors, marines, who had to restore constitutional order in Chechnya. We know that many of them are nominated for awards. Many have already been awarded. In particular, nine Marines - Colonel Alexander Darkovich, Majors Andrei Gushchin and Evgeny Kolesnikov (posthumously), Captains Viktor Shulyak and Dmitry Polkovnikov, Senior Ensign Grigory Zamyshlyak, Senior Lieutenants Viktor Vdovkin and Sergei Firsov (posthumously), Lieutenant Vladimir Borovikov (posthumously) was awarded the high title of Hero of the Russian Federation. But still, neither the award lists, nor the mean lines of orders will tell the reader what you know about them, "a direct participant in those events, by the way, also recently awarded a nominal weapon. So, first of all, the general would like to say about the Marines -Colonel Ivan Skuratov?

First of all, I categorically disagree with the allegations that "whipping boys" were sent to Chechnya. And I think that most of the officers - marines - participants in the hostilities will support me in this. Being in the very thick of battles, the marines never retreated, did not leave a single line, house, entrance, height.

And this despite the fact that in the course of training the Marine Corps before being sent to Chechnya, we had to face many problems. So, for example, when staffing the battalions of the Northern and Baltic fleets, personnel were assembled from more than 50 military units, and the 165th Marine Regiment of the Pacific Fleet was understaffed in a short forecast with military personnel from more than 100 coastal ships and units. We were given too little time to prepare them ...

Is this the reason why the Marine Corps suffered considerable losses during the fighting?

For 4 months of hostilities, 100 marines were killed. Bitter, although they say: they say, war is war. It is also important that there are no ridiculous losses. The Marines, I believe, this did not happen.

Meanwhile, we had to act, as they say, in the main directions: to fight on the outskirts of the presidential palace, the building of the Council of Ministers, the Kavkaz hotel, the telegraph ... And everywhere the Marines were distinguished by courage and heroism. And regardless of ranks and positions. And frankly, I am outraged by the publications in some media about alleged cases of drunkenness among Marine Corps officers. Say, the officers drank, the sailors fought for them. All this is not true. Here are just a few touches on the portrait of a young officer-commander of an air assault company of a separate marine brigade of the Northern Fleet, Captain Viktor Shulyak, who was awarded the title of Hero of Russia by Decree of the President of the Russian Federation of April 17. On the move, having entered the battle on the outskirts of the building of the Council of Ministers in Grozny, the company of Captain Shulyak met fierce resistance from superior enemy forces. However, the Marines made their way into the building, where they also had to fight for every room. And everywhere the company commander was an example for his subordinates - in hand-to-hand combat, personally destroying several militants, in a fire duel, suppressing 3 machine-gun crews. Twice wounded, bleeding, he continued to lead the battle. How, in your opinion, are drunkards capable of such things as they sometimes try to present us?

I am not talking about this in order to maintain the honor of the uniform, although it is, of course, dear to me. It hurts for people who are undeservedly offended by other zealous "chroniclers" of this war. Officers highly value such a thing as the honor of a marine. And I would not want their own media to try to cast a shadow on one of those who carry it high.

Three marines from the Pacific Fleet had to learn what captivity was. One of them, a midshipman, died. Another soldier, a sailor, was handed over to us by local residents of one of the Chechen villages two months later. in captivity. We have repeatedly tried to exchange him for captured Dudayevites, but so far to no avail. According to reports, he is alive, and we will do everything in our power to rescue him from captivity.

There were a lot of unflattering words in the press not only about Russian servicemen, but also about our weapons...

Here, too, one cannot be categorical. As the war showed, we really need to give up some types of weapons. So, for example, the battalion commander's combat vehicle was created on the basis of the BTR-60. Obsolete, running on gasoline, with two engines. This machine is not able to keep up with our own BTR-80, it lags behind on the march and holds the column. The marines, as well as the representatives of the Ground Forces, have many complaints about communications. We need small-sized, light, closed devices so that the enemy cannot enter our networks and devices. And it is necessary to provide them with military personnel up to and including the commander of the department.

Not quite, in my opinion, the equipment of the Marines is thought out. Only one body armor, for example, weighs about 13 kilograms. But, besides him, each soldier carries ammunition, food, weapons. With such a "baggage" and developers for a forced march ... The helmet is a sample of the forties. So there is something for experts to think about.

But in general, our technique has shown itself from the best side.

All sorts of "human rights activists" today literally revel in the "facts" of the punitive actions of troops in Chechnya, looting by military personnel. Your subordinates quite often were the first to enter settlements. And what, did they really behave like occupiers?

I am not aware of any complaints from the local population against the Marines. I myself have repeatedly met with civilians in Chechnya, talked with them and always heard only warm, kind words addressed to my subordinates. The Chechens talked about their far from sweet life under Dudayev, thanked for the assistance provided - the marines shared food, medicine with them, and distributed warm clothes. I have no information about cases of looting by the marines.

During the battles for Grozny, in other ° "erasions, the marines had to solve, let's say, tasks that were not quite characteristic of them ...

And for which of the military, whose mission is to defend the Fatherland from an external enemy, participation in this war was natural? We all acted in the conditions when the army performed new functions dictated by new realities, a threat to the integrity of the state. Indeed, the main purpose of the marines is amphibious assault. At the same time, it is the Marines who provide land defense for their own naval bases. So, from the point of view of combat training, participation in the resolution of the Chechen conflict did not bring us any special surprises. After all, the organization of antiamphibious defense requires the ability to conduct combat both in urban areas and in the area of ​​\u200b\u200bberths, piers, port facilities ...

Moreover, in Grozny, the marines had to act as assault groups and detachments, which successively took possession of buildings and quarters, sometimes having no neighbors on the right and left, or even completely isolated. Such actions are somewhat identical to the assault actions of the amphibious assault to seize the coast, port, without neighbors, and sometimes without the support of regular military equipment and artillery, which may not be landed on the coast for some reason.

That is, I want to say that, in principle, militarily, the marines are ready to solve such tasks as they had to solve in Chechnya, to conduct military operations in the city. Another thing is that due to the understaffing of the units, as mentioned above, we had some problems with combat coordination, command and control of prefabricated formations.

And how did the psychological adaptation of the marines in combat conditions go? They came to war as boys, and they leave...

In war, human psychology is completely changed. Everyone who has been there, I beg your pardon for the high-flown words, begins to appreciate his life. I asked the sailors and sergeants that they would recommend to those who would come to replace them. They answered me: "This war requires excellent physical training and the ability to shoot quickly and accurately." Of course, the list of qualities necessary for a soldier in a combat situation, especially as controversial as it was in Chechnya, should be wider. By the way, many of these qualities - courage, nobility, mutual assistance, etc. - were clearly manifested in the actions of soldiers and officers. And yet the essence, it seems to me, is captured correctly. Perhaps, only in war do you understand the relevance of the hackneyed postulate that you need to learn military science in a real way.

Comrade Colonel General, some units of the marines are still in Chechnya. Are there plans to send new units there?

At the end of March, the air assault battalions of the Northern and Baltic fleets were withdrawn from Chechnya. Currently, there continues to be a regiment of marines of the Pacific Fleet. By the way, it was this regiment that at the first stage of hostilities successfully held two bridgeheads on the left bank of the Sunzha River, preventing the militants from breaking through from the right bank of Grozny. The regiment has recently received reinforcements.

As for sending new units there... I hope, and God forbid that this is the case, that this will not be required.

Ivan Sidorovich, you are not only a military leader, but also a military scientist. The question, perhaps, will not sound quite tactful for the layman, but nevertheless: how did the war enrich your knowledge?

Life has once again confirmed that the marines are a special, unified branch of service not only of the Navy, but also of the Armed Forces of Russia. And the attitude towards it on the part of all relevant structures should be careful. Units and formations of the Marine Corps must be deployed on a full scale and fully combat-ready even in peacetime. Then there will be no need to urgently, in a hurry, complete the marines with untrained servicemen, removing them from ships and providing coastal units, as was the case at the beginning of the Chechen events.

This experience, alas, is not new, but after the Great Patriotic War it was forgotten. I hope that upon completion of the operation in Chechnya with respect to the marines, these conclusions will be put into practice.

Since you have already touched on this, I see, a painful question for you, then let's tell frankly what this, as you put it, special, unified branch of the armed forces is today.

The Marine Corps, as a branch of service, is a component of each of our four fleets. The Pacific Fleet has a marine division, and the Northern, Baltic and Black Sea fleets have one brigade each. With the current size of the Marine Corps, its formations are mainly engaged in protecting themselves. And those who get into the Marines do not always shine with intelligence and excellent health. Combat training is reduced to a minimum. Catastrophic under-funding leads to delays in the repair and construction of landing craft.

In such a situation, of course, it is very difficult to serve. The main burden is placed on the officers, and in the first place on the commanders of companies and platoons. After all, they have to work 14 hours a day, all the combat training of the marines rests on them.

In general, even the marines have a lot of problems, and they need to be solved as soon as possible.

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They are rightly considered the elite of the Navy and are sent to the most risky operations. And they never fail, saying "where we are, there is victory." Today the Marines celebrate their professional holiday, and we decided to remember the exploits of the heroes in black berets.

He received a Hero of Russia when he was 25. Marine of the Black Sea Fleet Vladimir Karpushenko served in the conflict area at the height of the second Chechen campaign.

From September 1999 to February 2000, commanding a reconnaissance company, he participated in 60 combat operations.

On the eve of the new year, 2000, after the death of a group of Marines Lieutenant Yuri Kuryagin, Captain Karpushenko was given the task of identifying the whereabouts of the militants operating in the area of ​​the village of Kharachoy. After a two-day raid, on January 2, Karpushenko's reconnaissance group managed to find them.

The bandits were engaged in strengthening new positions, leaving for the nearest village for food.

On one of these departures, Karpushenko and his soldiers occupied the abandoned fortifications. The Marines met the returning militants with heavy fire from machine guns.

In a matter of minutes, the bandits were destroyed ...

Militants hastily arrived at the battlefield, but Karpushenko's fighters, who had occupied the enemy line in a businesslike manner, did not even think of retreating. The young officer commanded the battle, competently organizing the defense - on that day, all the attacks undertaken by the enemy ended in defeat.

In 1995, Guards Colonel Yevgeny Kocheshkov commanded a group of marines in Chechnya.

On January 10, immediately after arriving in the conflict area, his unit was sent to Grozny, where fierce fighting was going on at that time. Kocheshkov's marines, having replaced a detachment of paratroopers in the center of the city, which had suffered serious losses, knocked out militants from dilapidated buildings on the outskirts of the presidential palace.

The incessant, heavy battle lasted for several days. After each unsuccessful attempt to return the lines occupied by the Marines, the militants made a new, even more fierce attempt.

All attacks ended in hand-to-hand combat...

On January 19, the fighters managed to take the presidential palace, holding it until the tanks of the federal forces approached.

Commanding talent, composure, endurance and responsibility of Colonel Kocheshkov gave strength and confidence to subordinates.

In this operation, not a single fighter went missing, was not captured. None of the 18 dead were left on the battlefield.

In August 1995, Evgeny Kocheshkov was awarded the title of Hero of Russia.

In early January 1995, Senior Lieutenant Viktor Vdovkin was sent on a business trip to Chechnya as chief of staff of the marine battalion of the 61st separate brigade of the Northern Fleet.

The officer led the assault group during the capture of the former building of the Council of Ministers in Grozny. It was an important node of the militants' defense, an almost impregnable fortress...

After heavy street fighting, the assault squad still managed to break into the building and gain a foothold on the ground floor. But the battle continued, the embittered Dudayevites repeatedly tried to regain control of the object, undertaking several counterattacks.

During one of them, Viktor Vdovkin was wounded, but continued to lead the battle.

After several assault attempts, the separatists were able to cut off Vdovkin's group from the main forces. Needless to say, the position of the Marines was extremely difficult. But they didn't give up. The senior lieutenant organized the defense of the line, continuing to repulse enemy attacks.

This pitch hell lasted four days.

Vdovkin's group, without food and water, fought against the militants, inflicting significant losses on them. During the reconnaissance of the positions of the Dudayevites, Vdovkin received another wound and a shell shock. Colleagues carried the commander from the battlefield in an unconscious state, and after a breakthrough to the main forces, they were evacuated to the hospital.

In May 1995, Viktor Vdovkin received the "Gold Star" of the Hero.

Captain Andrei Gushchin knows firsthand about the first Chechen. In 1995, during a business trip to the conflict area, the marine served as deputy battalion commander.

Street fighting in Grozny, the assault on the building of the Council of Ministers of Chechnya became pages of his military biography. Andrei Gushchin led the third detachment, which was tasked with recapturing the building of the Council of Ministers from the militants - the first two groups failed to do this.

This time, the scene of action was the building itself, where the Marines burst in with a surprise attack. For five days, Gushchin's fighters fought a fierce battle, holding control of the building.

The militants, who knew the area well, attacked from all sides. It happened that they even appeared from sewer manholes.

The captain skillfully organized the defense, supported and instructed his colleagues and coolly led the battle - this allowed not only to keep the building, but also to save the lives of most of the soldiers. And it was not easy for them: many lost their nerves, the fatigue of many days of incessant battle affected, vigilance was dulled ...

At a critical moment, Gushchin did something that the enemy did not expect in any way - with a sudden throw, he led his fighters into the attack. It was a risky and desperate move that decided the outcome of the battle.

The Dudayevites suffered colossal losses, and the survivors retreated.

In this hard fight Andrey Gushchen was wounded several times. The news that he was awarded the highest state award found the hero in the hospital. It happened in February 1995.

In January 1995, Yevgeny Kolesnikov arrived in the Chechen Republic as part of the combined marine battalion of the Baltic Fleet. It was not the first time for an officer to serve in a hot spot - before that there was Afghanistan, which brought the Order of the Red Star and the medal "For Courage". And now, Chechnya.

The officer, who had combat experience, was assigned the most difficult task - to clear the houses from militants and snipers that made it difficult to take the presidential palace in Grozny. Kolesnikov's detachment, advancing with battles to the city center, recaptured the building of a kindergarten from the Dudaevites - a stronghold of their defense. For several days, the marines fought off the violent attacks of the bandits, held the defense and went forward, inflicting numerous losses on the militants.

On January 17, when Kolesnikov's group was going to storm the next building, Dudayev's men opened fire from machine guns. The Marines, pressed to the ground, took cover from the fire - the attack was thwarted.

Shot through every meter of the earth. It was impossible to wait - the price of delay could be the death of the group.

Then Kolesnikov got up from the ground and led the fighters into the attack. A moment later, a machine-gun burst pierced his chest. The officer died, but his colleagues managed to knock the militants out of the building and establish their control over it.

After many hours of fighting for the body of the commander, the marines carried him away from the battlefield, not giving him up for reproach by the militants.

In May 1995, for courage and heroism, Yevgeny Kolesnikov was posthumously awarded the title of Hero of Russia.

War before and after...

The fate of the 77th Separate Guards Moscow-Chernigov Order of Lenin, the Red Banner, the Order of Suvorov, 2nd Class, Marine Corps Brigade repeated in all its twists and turns like a soldier the difficult path of the Army of our Motherland. In the fire of the July battles for Moscow in 1941, the militia of the Kiev region of the capital joined the truly popular 21st division. Moreover, the morale and training of those heirs of the warriors Pozharsky and Minin turned out to be so high that in September the 173rd rifle division was created on the basis of the militia formation. For successful battles to destroy enemy troops near Stalingrad on March 1, 1943, they became the 77th Guards Rifle Division. Chernihiv and Kovel, Warsaw and Magdeburg - the battle path of the guardsmen was glorious, many of them laid down their lives on the battlefields. 18 thousand soldiers of the division were awarded orders and medals, 68 were awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. The formation included both the "Company of Heroes of the Soviet Union" and the "Battalion of Cavaliers of the Order of Glory." After the war, the unit with honor stood guard over the Fatherland. In 1994, the 163rd separate brigade of the Marine Corps of the Northern Fleet was formed on its basis. But in 1996 the union was disbanded.
The clouds were gathering over the gray peaks of the Caucasus. After the shameful retreat of 1996, the Russian military silently, with pain, swallowed the bitterness of defeat, without words endured the pain of unavenged losses. But just as their ancestors from the Caucasian corps were preparing for the upcoming battle with natural Russian patience. In Dagestan and throughout the North Caucasus, support bases were deployed, units were being prepared. The process was painful, with an acute shortage of funds, in the absence of a strong political will of the country's top leadership. It became too late in early August 1999 to judge what they managed to do and what they did not manage to do. A stream of thousands and thousands of motley militants, perfectly trained, armed and equipped, flowed through the mountain "gates" and began to sweep away all life from its path with fiery and merciless lava.
Once again, as in 1941, as if out of nothingness, the soldiers of Russia “made of iron and steel” stood in the way of the enemies.
On December 1, the 77th Separate Guards Moscow-Chernigov Order of Lenin, Red Banner, Order of Suvorov, 2nd degree Marine Brigade of the Caspian Flotilla was revived. By that time, the "black berets" were already fighting, holding their line of defense invisible in the mountains.
For six years, the author collected the memories of the participants in those battles, marines and pilots, trying first of all to preserve their view of that war without speculation. It is up to the reader to judge how well they managed to cope with the task.
From the memoirs of officer Alexander Gorin.
When in July 1999, Lieutenant Alexander Gorin found out about his appointment to the marines of the Caspian Flotilla, there was a feeling that a stone had fallen from the soul. At the former place of service, I had to do more painting and unloading work. For a graduate of a platoon of "black berets" of the St. Petersburg combined arms school, such economic activity was real hard labor. "Buyers" from the part that existed even more on paper promised, under good living conditions, and service at the limit of human capabilities.
“But this suits me, a test to the limit,” thought Sasha and filed a report, as expected, for the transfer to a new place of application of his, as he believed, exhaustive knowledge of an officer - a naval paratrooper.
Major Vyacheslav Andrianov, commander of the 414th separate battalion of marines, kept his officers in a tight grip, taught to the conscience. All individual training was practiced by platoon and company officers on a par with sailors. Only lieutenants were required to do all this head and shoulders above their subordinates. Anrianov inspired them, you are an example in everything for your subordinates. Even your appearance, your way of managing the sailors. In front of subordinates, you have no right to appear in a bad mood, with a dull mine on your face, with eyes red from insomnia. If you do not feel well, it is better not to show yourself in front of the sailors and sergeants. In their eyes, the commander must look confident, cheerful and tireless, arouse admiration - they say, our platoon commander, go ahead, is strong.
In autumn, the Caspian landing went to Chechnya. The platoon commander received under command two dozen marines, a signalman with a bulky walkie-talkie and a call sign for communications - "Raven". Then he did not yet know that he would have to fly on his own two on the by no means aviation line Chechen-Aul, Shali, the Andean Pass - the Andean Gates, Tsa-Vedeno, Beno-Vedeno, Kharacha, Agishbatoy ...
The job fell out the hardest, at the limit of physical survival. Who sleeps a lot, he lives a little. At night, from mortal fatigue, the fighters used to fall asleep in positions. They were taught cruelly, they sneaked up imperceptibly, put a bag over their heads and left them tied up for a day. Then, neither alive nor dead from fear, the sailor eagerly swallowed air to the laughter of his comrades and immensely rejoiced that he remained alive.
At the Andean Pass, Gorin experienced hunger like everyone else. After all, they took dry food with them for only three days, they couldn’t take it away anymore. And they sat in the dank wind with snow for a month. Helicopter pilots refused to climb to the level of 2,500 meters - the crews did not have the necessary permits to fly at such heights. At first, the "black berets" melted the snow from the mountain steeps. The water turned out to be distilled, but such that it was impossible to drink, it was necessary to add salt. Here, on pastures free in summer, not a single tree grew, not even such a mountain dweller as a juniper survived. Only in some places rose hips grew. To prevent scurvy, they drank its decoction. We must pay tribute to the doctors, they supplied the Marines with pills with vitamins. Dry dung served as fuel in these parts. Down in the villages, they managed to buy some of it. The marines had some money with them. Then, when the stomach began to stick to the spines, they decided to start looking for food.
In the mountain folds, according to custom, local shepherds, just in case, left small supplies for random travelers. They prepared for the exits as for a military operation. One platoon commander and ten sailors with full gear were sent to search. The second officer remained in position. Luck will fall out, two platoons will hold out for several days on a similar "grazing" stern. Then the next group of mountain marines goes on a “hunt”. So we got by for a month. Then the passes opened, brought food.
Dirt, sweat, unsanitary conditions. This is the reverse and, it seems, the real side of any war. The eternal soldier's companion, the louse, appeared in everyone almost simultaneously. Later, when they began to equip life in the company economy, light prefabricated baths from shell boxes appeared. The foreman senior sergeant, contract soldier, with an easily remembered surname Krymsky, a villager from somewhere in the Siberian hinterland, even acquired a farmstead with indispensable turkeys and sheep. However, the foreman had a fighting character, he felt very confident at the exits on a mission and in reconnaissance search. And he was conscientiously engaged in dinners and baths in the bath of his colleagues. Alexander stayed with his guys for almost a year on two trips to the war. Twelve months of combat were the least reminiscent of a parade or a victory march to the sounds of a regimental band.
Skirmishes, short and fleeting skirmishes. Such an unromantic war went to the lieutenant. Yes, and to the devil's romance, the task would be completed, but people would not be lost. And then we will remember about glory and orders when we return.
During the year of the war, not a single sailor of Lieutenant Gorin was killed or seriously wounded. The commander's luck never became a traitor for Alexander.
One day after another "unpresentable" shootout in the bushes, they stumbled upon the body of a militant. Then they sweated a lot more when, under fire and on the ground, which was slippery from recent rains, they dragged the “find” to their stronghold. They searched, as expected, found one certificate of the people's choice, and two notebooks. In the first - phone numbers and addresses of the fair sex throughout Russia. In the second, poems in English. Who it was, where it came from, how it ended up on the path of the heirs of the legendary scouts, one can only guess. "Production" was then taken up by the pros from intelligence.
A lieutenant in a war is the very workhorse of an officer, pulling all the unsightly burden of military work. And Sasha did not ask unnecessary questions there. Around the same obscure events took place. Just yesterday he was shooting at the "Chekhov". And today the first amnesty is being announced. A column of bearded fighters for the freedom of Ichkeria drove past his checkpoint. Alexander looked into the UAZ, their commander was sitting there, accompanied by an FSB officer. Until the end of your life, you will remember the coldly polite smile of the militant who did not kill you yesterday. Then some of the amnestied people were seen in the villages, in police uniforms. Politics, not a soldier to judge about it.
In a word, fight further, as they say, lieutenant.
From the memoirs of Captain 2nd Rank Igor Sidorov.
Summer 1999. Dagestan is on fire. Here, on the outskirts of Kaspiysk, where the swamps begin, the defense lines of a thin chain of a company of “black berets” passed. Senior Lieutenant Igor Sidorov was recently appointed as the unit's education officer. In a few years, a whole complex of barracks, canteens, training centers will appear on the shores of the gray-haired Caspian, a separate guards brigade of marines with battalions manned by contract soldiers will be located. But before all this, it was still necessary to reach, finish the war, put the squeeze on the enemy and win.
None of our soldiers in those August days, when steel helmets and bulletproof vests seemed to melt a little more in the languishing Caspian heat, and cakes could be baked on the armor of combat vehicles, did not ask how many "them" and how many us. You have to fight in a war. Moreover, on the rhetoric in the style, they say, who needs these victims, go into oblivion with its very first shots.
In the meantime, the command post of Lieutenant General Vladimir Shamanov is only a kilometer from here. Beyond the swamps are militants, trained, experienced, armed to the teeth. Soon, it is here that our scouts will be ambushed, the first marine paratrooper will die.
Exactly, everything is like in the song. Russia is great, and on a narrow strip of land from the edge of the swamp to that sandy seashore, "we are her last soldiers." And to retreat, the heart of the Marines bleeds so much. Since the time of Peter the Great, the enemy has not set foot on this part of Russia. Hitler's grandfathers and great-grandfathers did not let him in, as he did not rush to the Caspian oil. We did not make a bloody mess in the Caucasus. It's just for us to disentangle it. After all, "where we are, there is victory."
An experienced combat general himself bypasses the positions of the infantrymen, meticulously inspects each trench, each trench, makes the remark: “If tanks go, your defenses,“ striped devils ”, will not withstand them. Judging by the first Chechen campaign, the “spirits” had up to two hundred armored vehicles. Everyone seemed to have knocked it out then, but who knows, they could still buy it, somewhere at the “sale”. What did they teach you at school, starley?
“What, Comrade General, they taught, was to search for submarines with the help of a hydroacoustic station,” Igor will answer.
After graduating from the Pacific Higher Naval School three years before the start of the war, Lieutenant Sidorov joined a brigade of ships that had not yet been equipped in a new place. Makhachkala, for all its problems, is not the worst place to work. But the proximity of war was always felt here. And when the time came, I had to recall the experience of the Great Patriotic War, to complete the Marine Corps unit with sailors-shipbuilders.
From the memoirs of officer Konstantin Lyakhovsky.
The battalion of the Marine Guards Brigade of the Caspian Flotilla safely saddled its section of the mountains. Konstantin has been a platoon commander of "black berets" for a year now. Now only his first trip to the war begins. Support base with tank and artillery positions located along the perimeter, mine and engineering barriers. Ahead is the enemy. He is invisible, subtly uses all sorts of "surprises".
Command platoon of sappers of the Guards Senior Lieutenant Alexander Sannikov with his guys are constantly at work. Minefields with humor are sometimes also called "Sannikov fields". Engineering reconnaissance is ongoing. Stretch wires in their saturation per square meter are more reminiscent of laser beams of cutting-edge signaling from some Hollywood movie. In the areas cleared the day before, like mushrooms after rain, a new hidden death will soon “grow up”.
Sasha knew his stuff. And there, on enemy paths, more than one enemy was blown up on his mines. But, sappers have their duels. Sannikov made a mistake the only time he was allowed to go. Some of the "spirits" received the assigned three or five hundred dollars of reward for being a lieutenant.
"Czechs" fought perfectly. In the USSR, many excellent soldiers of special units were trained from them. Dozens of Chechen officers then made brilliant careers by no means on the "parquets". A decade of Caucasian wars was nurtured by a generation of young people whose whole life consisted of explosions, fires, and battles. There is no other world and way of life for them. "Wild geese", adventurers greedy for green banknotes "flock" here in abundance from all over the world. They have the most advanced means of communication and radio intelligence in their hands. With all the same abundance of weapons, money, drugs, poverty and disease reign in the remote mountainous Chechen villages. The platoon commander caught hepatitis somewhere on the next exit, so much so that after recovery, he had to undergo another month of treatment in Astrakhan.
... A fantastically accurate shot from a grenade launcher took the machine-gun crew by surprise. The grenade hit one of the marines right over the edge of the bulletproof vest. Shrapnel hit two more. Konstantin saw everything with his own eyes, commanded his men to lie down and open fire. It was the first time he had to get into such a binding. But in the subconscious there was one thing - a soldier in battle copies, first of all, his commander. Your slightest confusion, lieutenant, and then write mournful letters to soldiers' mothers. Company captain Pavel Zelensky managed to organize the defense, did everything for a competent withdrawal. None of their fallen and wounded "spirits" were left.
The battle went on for three days without a break, without sleep, without prisoners. Each tree, ravine and slope concealed hundreds of firing points. Night has come. But she did not bring respite. In pitch darkness, the platoon commander prayed for one thing, if only the morning would not bring fog. At dawn, "turntables" flew in, took away the dead and wounded. The "spirits" here could not be denied nobility, they missed two sanitary "sides". But the next "eight", Mi-8, with the first group of evacuated paratroopers, was shot down.
The helicopter crashed in the forest. Fortunately, everyone survived. The pilots were, however, seriously injured. Among the mercenaries and local "free shooters" began a real stir. From all the surrounding camps and villages, militants poured into the crash site of the Mi-8. For each living or dead pilot, "bets" can reach up to one and a half thousand dollars.
The battle flared up with renewed vigor. Lieutenant Verov, his friend Seryoga, remained forever on those heights.
In the open area was our wounded Marine. The hired sniper decided to use a savage technique - the Chechen "cross", to finish him off slowly, at the same time shooting everyone who came to the aid of the fighter. Captain-medic Vasily Seleznev carried out the fighter on himself, under fire, risking his life.
Doctors, in general, a separate word of gratitude. The captains of the medical service, Alexander Datsuk and Nikolai Safonov, were on a par with the paratroopers on all combat missions. Machine gun, ammunition - like everyone else, plus a bag with a red cross. In the mountains, in reconnaissance, first of all they tried to take ammunition and saline, medicines. For timely medical assistance is a saved human life.
There are no people who do not experience fear in war. Or, the “hero” is not in order with the psyche, or he is under the influence of a “degree” or a drug. I was afraid—for the lives of my Marines. I thought how I could, if the irreparable happened, to look into the eyes of their mothers. I didn't want to die myself. Life is the most precious gift of man. Over time, it becomes more and more painful to remember the dead, for the hundredth time you ask yourself if you did everything to save them. - Konstantin speaks sincerely, his words are hard-won.
But there is also that pain, the captain knows like no one else, which God forbid to experience again. On May 9, 2002, an explosion claimed the lives of dozens of marines at a parade in honor of the great Victory. He soon returned to his company, where he did not see a single officer - who was already buried, who was in a hospital bed. And from the feeling of terrible loneliness, from the pain of loss, you can’t get rid of even for a moment.
In empty rooms, it seemed, the voices of friends who could not be returned were still alive.
From the memoirs of Major Viktor Shevtsov.
More than ten times the crew of the Mi-8 helicopter, Major Viktor Shevtsov, visited the war, on the border of Chechnya and Dagestan. However, he is not alone. Lieutenant colonels Alexander Chursin, Sergey Syrov, Sergey Romanenko, Major Sergey Boychuk, captains Andrey Sova and Stanislav Kirpich passed through Gorka, a stronghold of the amphibious assault. As soon as the deadline came, the fees were short-lived. A month or two passed in the mountains.
The combat situation in 2001 required air support for the marines of the 77th Separate Guards Brigade of the Caspian Flotilla. That is why they made a completely justified decision to create a temporary aviation group "at the top".
A little later, in a casual conversation with Admiral of the Fleet Vladimir Masorin, our aviators will joke, they say, we, anti-submarines, what kind of submarines do we hunt here, in the mountains and forests?
To which they received in response, since when did the marines, intended to capture a section of the coast, begin to advance right up to the Caucasian passes? The time is now. And for us, as people in uniform, it remains, as always, only to follow orders.
In a word, if necessary, we will “look for” submarines at an altitude of 3000 meters above sea level.
Everything happens as usual in that war, everything is like on a remote section of an invisible front line. Mi-8 arrives at Yagodak, where the air is rarefied almost to the limit. The winged car pulls the height as expected, without failure. Landing on a small spot on the top of the mountain. Ahead is an almost steep abyss. At first, even the "regulator" - the paratrooper, who showed the crew commander how the car behaves on landing, was almost thrown into the gorge by a stream of air. Then they began to put the guys at a reasonable distance from the abyss and the helicopter, the risk is inappropriate here.
Unloading starts. But there is no point in rushing the landing. Say, come on, "striped devils", drive faster.
The infantrymen move like in slow motion. Any movement is given to them with difficulty. At the pass, it is clearly not up to saving fuel, although the engine must work all the time. Young, healthy guys are here on the border of human capabilities. Once I even had to urgently pick up the "black beret", he had a heart attack. It was in the middle of summer, where the snow had not yet completely melted. The smell of valerian medicine in the cabin, probably, they, helicopter pilots, will not forget until the end of their lives. Luckily, we got there in time. The guy stayed alive.
Without aviation, the paratroopers simply could not survive in the mountains. For the first time, back in 2001, detachments of naval soldiers went to the same Yagodak pass for two weeks. The rotorcraft covers the same distance in less than an hour. According to the norms, one pilot can make no more than twelve landings per day. In total, if you do not count on intermediate "jumps", it is allowed to make no more than six sorties.
What if the infantry, like air, also needs wings. The way out was not original. After one crew chose the limit, the second crew got into the cockpit to replace it. The "product" of domestic aircraft manufacturers withstood all the loads.
Wild places, not the word. Highlanders from time immemorial adhere to their obscure customs for a Russian person. How to understand why the inhabitants of villages located on different slopes of the same mountain hate each other with fierce hatred? In what centuries was born between them the enmity that continues from generation to generation ...
Firewood in the mountains is worth its weight in gold. It is impossible to cut down a tree or a bush, even to pick up a branch brought to the bank of a mountain river. By agreement with the elders of nearby villages, all brushwood, down to a thin twig, belongs to the local community. And the Russian military should burn firewood brought by helicopters from the plains. It is impossible to “resolve the issue” with the head of the local authority. Everything will be as the council of elders says. They are even in charge of forbidding or allowing the passage of a column of Russian troops through the village.
The mountain river Andiyskoe Koysu, during the period of snowmelt, turns from a stream into a rumbling stream of water, easily moving huge boulders. Every trip for water is associated with a huge risk. Somehow, in the spring, two armored tractors were swept into the river. The crews of the unfortunate "vodochody" managed to jump out in time. The commander of the coastal troops of the Caspian flotilla flew in to sort things out. By that time, the cars were almost completely hidden under piles of stones.
That flood in the mountains, unfortunately, was not without casualties. The Marine miscalculated his strength when he took on water. Then I had to look for his body from helicopters many kilometers downstream.
Everything is like in a normal mountain war. The landing party survives in an unusual climate for a Russian person, grows into the stony ground with artillery positions, finds a common language with the local people, distrustful of any strangers. And one should not be surprised when on the slope you see a flock of sheep with a shepherd, equipped, presumably, to increase the production of wool and meat, a satellite telephone and Zeiss optics. Your every step is tracked, all the information goes to the enemy - what they brought, how many people were replenished, when they flew away.
The Marines once even predicted, down to the last detail, how events would develop after the arrival of the Mi-8. “Look, our winged brothers, now everything will happen in this way. Soon a truck from a neighboring village will drive up to the checkpoint, there will be about twenty women and five or six men on it. The ladies will allegedly begin an intensive search for medicinal plants in the nearby meadow to the helipad. The men will carefully note how many boxes they brought, approximately what they are in weight. Then, near the checkpoint, a real buzz will begin in order to shove their scout into the territory of the stronghold under the guise. Of course we won't miss it. But in the evening, be sure not to go to the fortuneteller, the elder will come to the commander and complain. Why, chief, your "black beret" offended civilians. And in the morning, the local police, the prosecutor's office will already begin to catch up. In a word, the Russian military is again to blame.” Officers - marines Alexander Sorogin, Vladimir Dubrovin, Vladimir Belyavsky (note - now he is a colonel, Hero of Russia, deputy brigade commander) became very adept at all variations of performances of local and well-paid amateur performances called "How to get intelligence".
An invisible battle was waged there every second. Our guys from the competent authorities fully deserve words of gratitude. Outwardly, at times, everything looked at ease. Like, Vitya, Volodya or Sasha, today change the route right in the air, as you see fit. And then, uneven hour ...
So they flew. And the number of take-offs exactly matched the number of landings on those mountainous sites. Precisely, everything is like in the song, "I served not for titles, and not for orders." And not only naval aviators visited those troubled lands. Not far from that heliport is the village of Khunzakh - here in the early 19th century the headquarters of General Yermolov was located. How many hundreds of thousands of Russian soldiers and officers since that time have passed through the local mountains and over miles of military paths, on heights where even eagles have not flown? Do not count. Their names, sometimes, remained only on the dusty shelves of the archives. Yes, deeds speak louder than any words.
From the memoirs of senior warrant officer Yuri Okorochkov.
Commander of the Order of Courage senior warrant officer Yuri Okorochkov spent seven months in the Astrakhan battalion of marines during the most fierce period of the Chechen battles. On November 20, 1999, they will remember the date for the rest of their lives, the battalion of Major Vyacheslav Andrianov crossed the stormy Terek, sung in Cossack songs. A technician from a company of Caspian marines repaired military vehicles under the most difficult conditions.
The titanic work of the repairmen was beyond peacetime standards. On the Andean Pass, the "black-beret" infantry supported their combat brethren from a high-mountain outpost. Armored personnel carriers were produced in the 70-80s. By an incredible coincidence, they came to the Caspian Sea after the disbandment of Yuri's native coastal defense unit of the Black Sea Fleet. It is clear that the "bateers" fairly "ran" along the mountain slopes, apparently roads, often broke down. Night-midnight, wind, snow piercing to the bone - whatever you put on - the wind was not taken into account when it was necessary to put into operation their only hope for life and victory - the armor of combat vehicles. Standards, technology, all sorts of rules and repair criteria seemed to be forgotten until "better times". The concept of "equipment in the ranks" read only the following: "Bronic" is obliged to fight.
War is impossible without losses…. The names of the Caspians did not escape the mournful lists of those who died in that campaign. "Ural" blew up on a mine. The driver was killed and two others were seriously injured. The militants were afraid to meet with the "black infantry" face to face. Local residents, when the marines were serving at a checkpoint near Serzhen-Yurt, said so - the militants do not want to mess with you. Say, they are now waiting for the soldiers of the internal troops to replace the marines. And they even called the exact date of replacement. The intelligence of the "Czechs" worked like a Swiss watch. Later, already at a new location, Yuri accidentally read the summary. That checkpoint was attacked. Several of our soldiers and officers were killed and wounded.
People, painful to remember, sometimes lost ridiculously stupid. Some of the sailors-conscripts, forgetting about caution, ran into a "stretch" in the "calm" camp. Tritely used before that just nothing, it would seem, intoxicating. The sharpness of his sense of danger was a little dulled. Just enough to die... The militants are masters, don’t go to a fortune teller, for such surprises. In early spring, before the grass begins to grow, such a dock and set a mine in the forest. And a little later, the herbs covered it naturally. Not even the slightest hint of the presence of hidden death.
Another death is still beyond the understanding of Yuri. In April or May, an order came to the battalion about the dismissal of several sailors to the reserve. One day of hostilities counted as two. And the "conscripts" went home much earlier than their conscripts. One of the dismissed already after dark decided to go to the next company, to his fellow countrymen. To celebrate, I forgot the strictest order - do not go beyond the position line, the combat guards shoot to kill without warning. The sentry, as he heard footsteps, fired a burst from the Kalashnikov. The movement has stopped. In the morning, at dawn, we saw who was hit by bullets .... In those few months of the war, the Marines learned to shoot perfectly, almost without aiming. The military prosecutor's office conducted an investigation into the death. And determined that the weapon was used correctly. That sentry sailor successfully completed his term in the unit. Worried, understandably. But there were no conflicts with colleagues because of the death of that guy. Everyone understood that anyone would have acted in the same way in his place.
War is full of nonsense. And for the first time, Yuri with a column came under fire from his own motorized riflemen. The infantrymen mistook the combat vehicle with the paratroopers for the militants. From a distance, go, distinguish who is who. The form is the same. And after another week on a combat mission in the mountains, on unshaven faces sooty by the fires, you can’t read Slavic features. Both Chechen fighters and Russian soldiers look like twin brothers.

The brigade only left for Sevastopol

Each generation of Russian Soldiers has its own passes, battlefields, and heights. The current lieutenants bear little outward resemblance to their predecessors, those who went through the roads of defeats and victories of the Great Patriotic War, who did their duty in Afghanistan and in other “hot spots”. There is the main thing, that Russian spirit is unshakable, that military science to win, that incredible core of courage and courage, thanks to which the enemy said about our warrior: “It’s not enough to kill a Russian marine, he must be nailed to the ground with a bayonet. Then there's a chance he won't get up." In the new history of the "Moscow" guards, there is a Hero of Russia Guards Colonel Vladimir Belyavsky, hundreds and hundreds of soldiers of the "black-beret infantry" were awarded high state awards.
On December 1, 2008, the 77th Separate Guards Moscow-Chernigov Order of Lenin, Red Banner, Order of Suvorov, 2nd Class Marine Corps Brigade was again disbanded. Moreover, the power of our marines in the Black Sea-Caspian region has not weakened. The strength of the weapons, the staff of the brigade were transferred to the newly created unit of the Marine Corps of the Black Sea Fleet in Sevastopol. Thousands of well-trained marines, pupils of the Guards unit, serve in other Russian fleets.
The Guard again, already in the 21st century, coped with the combat mission in the North Caucasus with honor. And, if you look at it this way, the brigade only relocated to those regions where it is now most needed. But God forbid one more enemy to test her fighting qualities again.
Alexander Chebotarev
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