Igor Yevtishenkov - The wrong war

«Whose drone is it? What the hell is that? No, I don’t give a shit, ff…, whose it is!» he didn’t say the four-letter word but just hissed its first letter. «Can you hear me? Can you, tell me exactly where all of goddamn toys are, ff..? Mother ff…, where are they? Suvorov, why the hell are you silent? Where’s a drone report, ff..? Fly to the base! Get in the hangar, cock sucker! Count every piece! Yourself! St. Petersburg has already sent their report but you are still bullshitting me, ff… Trubnikov, what’s this crap on the photo? What have those Turks found in the forest, eh? Can you tell me, rotten skunk, what kinda rotorcraft is on the photo, ff..?«cutting and biting the obscenities he continued to shout, demanding a report on the drone that had been downed on the Turkish territory.

«Comrade Major-General, SF Commander is calling you» a staff duty officer’s polite voice was heard behind him. They all looked at each other. If Commander sent the staff duty officer, it meant there were no aides by his side and he had been sent somewhere else. For all it was a sign that something important had happened.

«I’m on my way,» muttered Zakharov and quickly told the officers: «Count all drones and find out what model was shot down in Turkey! That’s all, you may go now!»

When he came into the only large room of the local headquarters, the Commander was waiting for him tapping his pencil on the desk.

«Come in, come in, Sergeyich! Do you have to keep shouting?» he smiled. Such treatment was new to Zakharov, so he felt a bit uneasy and did not know what to expect. The news could have been anything. Despite the good relations and mutual understanding in matters of service, he knew that first of all it was necessary to respect the chain of command.

«Comrade Colonel-General, I can’t be as polite as General Konashenkov is, you know,» he said with excuse. «I don’t speak with press.»

«You have to, though. Learn from it though. Okay, sit down – we’ve got to talk. Yes, I want to curse too and much stronger than you,» the Colonel-General paused looking at a few small sheets of paper lying on his desk. He moved them with a pencil in different directions and took one thoughtfully pursing his lips.

«Something happened, comrade Commander?» asked Zakharov carefully.

«No, it didn’t. We simply have to respond quickly to orders. And all of them have come from «the chief». Damn…» as soon as he heard these words, Zakharov understood that the task would be difficult because there had been just two orders from «the chief» up to this moment – the first one about informing NATO reps concerning the beginning of the military operation and the second about the stupid message when our aircraft ’touched the Turkish airspace with its wing.» Even the drone having downed in Turkey caused calls from the administration and the General Staff only.

«I’m ready to listen,» he said a stupid phrase feeling that it was inappropriate but he could not think of anything else.

«First, the «FS-6» model of Chinese Man-Portable Air Defenses – MANPADS – were discovered under Aleppo, where «the so-called moderate opposition’ tried to bring down our «SU» jets. The missile did not reach it. It looks like the missile range is around three thousand kilometers. The chief’s order is simple: no downed jets! Therefore, we have to fly at five thousand feet, no lower…»

«How come?» asked Zakharov. «It’s not up to us. How can the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth be bombing? They’ll have to decline.»

«I know… But now we have to fly at four thousand feet, okay? We can’t go lower. It’s actually dangerous. If they have a bunch of these fake MANPADS, what shall we do?»

«So, are we gonna bomb at random?» he asked cautiously. «What about the reports then?»

Commander shook his head and answered:

«The General Staff is thinking about this now. They are concerned too. Satellites will help. So for now, just take notice and do it. As for the second order, it has to do with the notorious joint rescue group. You must have heard in the morning that the Americans refused to join us, but the chief’s order remained. Don’t look like that! We’ll have to create a group on our own.»

«How? We do not have people,» Zakharov was right. All personnel were busy, soldiers performed many tasks, and there was no one free.

«I know,» the Colonel-General rubbed his nose and sighed. «You’ll be in charge of it. So get ready and make a list by the evening.»

«It’s almost impossible. There should be a sort of sting riot squad rather than cooks and technical staff.»

«Maybe you want to ask me for Caucasian guys? They’ll be here in no time and will be happy to fight», sadly noted Colonel-General. His tired eyes smiled for the first time.

«And what’s the use of it? Here every second militant has already arrived from our Caucasus,» muttered Zakharov.

«Right, but that’s not all yet», the elderly man stood up and came up to the window. He parted the blinds and sighed seeing someone outside. «The third order concerns the journalists. They must be delivered to the city of Deir-ez-Zor.

«Where?! It’s, ff…» Zakharov looked at him with wide eyes open. Then he desperately blinked and rubbed his forehead to stop cursing.

«Here they are, happy and glad,» the Commander nodded toward the window and turned to the desk. «I sent an officer for them. All the reporters are ordered to be carried to Deir-ez-Zor this night. Besides, those „top agitators“ from the TV called me later and started advising… They were wondering if their guys could fly to other areas here. They said they needed to film „strong resistance“ of the Syrian army. That’s what they were said to do and we have to help them by any means. So, you can see, it’s no use shouting and yelling.»

«Our SUs can’t give them a lift over there. Especially, if there are Chinese MANPADS in the area. And there is no place for them to land there. There’s only space for helicopters. Can we use ours?» asked Zakharov.

«Hell, no! The fact of the matter is that it’s impossible. Syrians say they have four MI-8 helicopters. They confirmed that were flying every day. Trust but verify. So you have to urgently send our technicians over there. But who will accompany the journalists? They can’t go there without our support. It’s not Latakia.»

«I’ll send our technicians! To tell the truth I don’t know what to do with the support team…» frowned Zakharov, but then he saw a gingerly adjutant appearing in the doorway and added: «We’ll do that, comrade Colonel-General!»

«The reporters are here and one more thing… Lieutenant-colonel Sergeyev has come,» the adjutant said quietly and stood still waiting for an answer.

«Send the journalists to the hangar for now! Let them collect their cameras over there. And tell Sergeyev to come in!» without looking up said the Commander continuing to move pieces of paper on the map with his pencil.

«Comrade Colonel-General…» the lieutenant-colonel entered the room and stopped short in mid-sentence having noticed the Commander’s raised hand, then looked at Zakharov with astonishment. The General nodded briefly to him.

«Why are you constantly yelling today?» muttered the grey-haired general and rubbed his sweaty neck. «What’s up with you, Sergeyev?»

«Leaflets are ready. We printed them especially for the defense of Deir-ez-Zor. The whole lot is done. We’ve packed them. So they are ready for shipment.»

«Leaflets for Deir-ez-Zor?» he said slowly, squinting oddly, but thoughtfully at his subordinate. The General knew this experienced officer and had been acquainted with his personal record before the arrival of the special propaganda group. Lieutenant colonel Sergeyev graduated from the Military Institute of Foreign Languages, learned from Commander’s former comrades who, along with him, took part in the second Egyptian campaign as military experts and later worked in Lebanon and Yemen. The main Intelligence Directorate used him in some operations in the Middle East and two months ago the General Staff had an idea to use psychological influence on the enemy. They started looking for the «survivors» of specialists. Staffing positions existed, but, alas, there were no skillful professionals capable to deploy mobile teams in the regular units. The only thing they managed to do was organize working groups and assign them a commander from the former professionals, who at least had an idea of what they all would have to do. That man was forty-year-old Sergeyev. His team dropped the first lots of leaflets from helicopters successfully without being shot down. However, no one terrorist was going to surrender and even retreat. Therefore, military commanders hoped that he would come up with something new to affect the fighters.