Глеб Бобров - The Torn Souls - An Anthology of Prose About the Soviet War in Afghanistan

The flight engineer F. had a severe pain caused by his “wisdom” tooth. The poor guy was suffering during a whole day and a whole night. He was tossing in his bed, standing up, sitting down, and jumping; he even performed push-ups to be distracted from this pain, but nothing helped.

-You drive me nuts! — annoyed lieutenant Losenkov turned to him. — I cannot sleep. Have a mug of brew and you will feel better.

Suffering from the unbearable pain, the flight engineer F. obeyed and drank it in full. The pain stopped immediately, and he fell asleep. But in twenty minutes the pain returned again and woke him up. He drank another mug. The identical chain of events occurred again and again… For the rest of the night, he drank a three-litre jar of this precious alcoholic beverage, and in the morning, he was the subject of unfavourable critical comments from this pals who shared the same room with him. But it did not matter to him. He barely could wait for the beginning of the working hours to be able to get help, and as soon as the working day officially started, he rushed to the first-aid post in hope that it was a day for a visit of a dentist. But a dentist was not there.

For God’s sake! — lieutenant Losenkov said — I visited this dentist once, a female, and she stuck a drill into my mouth and then threw cement in my mouth and asked me to chew it — that was the treatment. You would be better going to a hospital.

So, the flight engineer F. waited for a car and went to the hospital. Used to the helicopters’ speed, the distance between his quarters and the hospital seemed very far; he was surprised how long the car was dodging in lanes and alleys, passing the check-points. At one of them, the board technician was strictly asked why he left the regiment without his gun, but after they saw his face, distorted by a pain, they let him go.

In the hospital, a sleepy black-bearded doctor put a pain killer tablet on top of his tooth, switched on the music and went to the nurse. When numbness began to fade, the merry doctor came back, said OK, took the pliers and together with a crackle sound and the pain, pulled out his tooth. Holding the tooth, he looked at it with his rolling eyes and threw the tooth into a rubbish bin, then he pushed a cotton wedge into the patient’s mouth, said “this is it”, and made himself disappear again.

Drooped in the chair, the flight engineer F. then rose and crawled out. Outside he learnt that a car will be going towards his regiment only in the evening. The wound was aching and he simply could not wait by doing nothing. He needed actions to distract himself from this pain!

Navigated by the Sun, he decided to hit the road towards his regiment. Leaving the hospital behind, he was heading through dry fields. The sounds of landing and getting off planes and helicopters, gave him reassurance that he chose the right direction.

In no time, the flight engineer F. reached and was passing through several kishlaks (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor) quite big ones, judging by numbers of mosques and lots of dukhans (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor). The people in the dukhans looked with a big surprise at the lonely strolling pilot in his distinctive army suit without any ammunition.

— Hey, pal! — one of them shouted towards him — What do you want? Buy or sell? Are you alone? — and looked cautiously around.

— Fat chance! — the board technician answered without slowing his stroll. — My people are marching behind me! Do not celebrate yet! — and spitted out the blood.

However, just in case, he changed streets and walked along on another, followed by a flock of little kids with their outstretched hands: “Give us a present, Russian!”, who were annoyingly shouting, jumping and making ugly faces. Behind kids, a bit in the distance, several men with beards were walking towards him. The flight engineer F. started getting nervous. The pain immediately disappeared. The sweat covered his body. Why on Earth he did not take his weapon? And why he did go this way? Why did he not want to stay in the welcoming hospital! And the airdrome was in such visible distance…

At this moment he heard a row of engine and a military KamAZ, with metallic plates instead of windscreens, turns out from the nearest corner. The board technician F. waved, and the monster stopped. The door opened, a barrel of AK-74M appeared first, and then an unshaved face came out.

— Were you knocked down? — this face asked the blood spitting man wearing a jumpsuit.

— If you do not help me, I will definitely be knocked down in a minute. — the flight engineer F. answered. — I am returning from hospital to my aerodrome. Will you give me a lift to the airdrome?

He climbed up to the cab. When the monster started his engine, the captain shook his head:

— Alone and unarmed! What a stupid thing to do! Just yesterday one warrant officer and one soldier disappeared. You, pilots, are so strange! You must have completely lost the reality of this land! Here we are completely shielded but you were promenading like on the Arbat Street! (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor).

The captain kept grumbling, the flight engineer F. kept silent, smoking and smiling. He even laughed from time to time…

April 17, 1987, Gerat. The last 5 days, the “cleaning up” operation (an anti-terrorist operation — Editor) is in full steam. Everything should be clean ad tidy before the Chief Secretary Nadgibulla will arrive.

The Gerat airdrome is located on bare ground and the military aircrafts are lined up on the right, protected from the east by the field squadron regiment — the tents, AVVs.

It is an unbearable heat. Metallic surfaces are boiling and you can touch them only with thick leather gloves. A water cart goes from helicopter to helicopter and the personnel are pouring water on their bodies and watering the helicopters’ inside and out; they lie down on wet floors wearing only underpants and enjoying the coolness. Any movement of helicopters creates a dust-storm and the dirt covers the wet metal and wet bodies. Water evaporates in five minutes, leaving only the dust and heat again.

The flight engineer F. had a lucky morning — his team has been ordered to deliver weapons to Gerat. They got to Shindant, and waited there for shipping up until noon; then had lunch, swam in a pool and after that they came back, loaded with the vaults of rockets and bombs.

From the distance it was easy to see yellow smoke clouds above the Gerat valley — meaning that it was bombed. The “screamers” (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor) were slashing the sky with a threatening row. On the ground, there were no helicopters left: everyone was on duty carrying out various tasks — landing operations, bombing, hammering the enemies following the tips received from a military intelligence agency.

The landed pair of helicopters got unloaded, refueled. The board technicians were about to lock their planes and to go to a command tent for listening to the radio, when the Squadron Major commander Umrihin with his co-pilot, together with the commander Bozhko and the second co-pilot Kolya Shevchenko (nicknamed “Rambo” for having a special bra stuffed with grenades) approached the plane.

— Are horses ready? — Major Umrihin asked. — Let’s ride!

Bozhko, climbing to the cabin, said to the flight engineer F.:

— We are going to shoot down the “Stinger”. The Squadron commander wants to receive a Hero. A secret agent and NKVD arrived. Let’s start the engine.

— It is cool, huh?! — “Rambo” said, comfortably accommodating his armed body in a chair. — We are doing the real thing! Let’s fight!