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

— Lieutenant, why are you always squealing? What happened this time?

— She swore at me, Comrade Colonel!

— And what do you want me to do? Do you want me to defend your honor? I cannot do that, — the commander spread his hands to the sides. — Well, take it as a duel…

It happened near Farah. We had a scheduled hunt for Pashtu’ s(see’ Terminology and Glossary” — Editor) rebellions. A tandem of helicopters, which was led by board No. 10, circled over the Pashtu’s’ camps.

We explored the area with an eye on the neighborhood, and if we spotted a camp, which looked just like a line of several black tents, we landed. Captain Kezikov was in charge of the leading board. He landed the helicopter with its doors on the opposite side from the tents, covering the SWAT team that unstoppably ran out from the helicopter’s belly. Whilst soldiers led by the first lieutenant were searching these tents, the helicopters were waiting. The first chopper without stopping, was banging everything around with its machine gun. The second one was circling above, ready to cover the SWAT team with his fire from the air.

So, now the pilot of the covering helicopter, was watching how the inspection was going on the ground and making his comments:

— They entered the houses, began scattering things around… Oh, from outside baba (in Russian a disrespected word for women — Editor) run into the tents… Hah, the goats are getting in their way, being underfoot… The old men went out… talking… arguing about something… And here is the catch, now we pull him out right away…

The Pashtu guy who was arrested, had a short haircut, a little beard, long black shirt with a purple tinge, loose trousers; he has no shoes rather gray dusty feet in his flip-flops. Being huge, he was taller than the soldiers, who guarded him.

The soldier, who was walking behind this captive giant, every three steps pushed the Pashtu guy with his machine gun with such force that the captive threw his head back and ran a few steps forward. When he was loaded into the helicopter, the troop commander pushed the captive’s head on the cockpit:

— Found with him a bag of the ammunition and a “drill”!

— So what? — Kezikov surprised. — He had to protect his tribe somehow…

But the commander shrugged in astonishment and disappeared. As a planned action, they have to hunt and bring someone, to show the result of operations, so they do not care much whom they catch.

After the next turn of searching over the foothills, we found another camp and we landed. The same chain of action happened again: the troop ran out of the helicopter’s belly, lined up in a thin chain and trotted idly to the tents. The first lieutenant, was the last to leave the helicopter, and he said to the flight engineer F.

— We will come back soon, you keep watch on this rookie, all right? — he forcefully put into the flight engineer’s hands the confiscated gun. — Do not be a coward, if you see any movement, just hit him with this rifle’s butt right in the mug!

The flight engineer wanted to open his mouth to reject his present, but the commander had already jumped out from the helicopter and rushed to his soldiers.

— Holy shit, did you hear that? — the first engineer asked, addressing his perturbation to the captive guy, and only when he finished saying this, the first engineer understood his role in such a situation.

The flight engineer F. was sitting in the folding chair, in the aisle of the cockpit, facing the cargo compartment and holding the rifle butt. The butt of this rifle had dark, deeply polished wood, and looked like it was about 40 years old. From his position, the flight engineer F. was directly observing the man in the black shirt, who was sitting down in the aisle near the extra tank and watching the flight engineer. His hands, placed on his knees, were black and big, with bulging veins. The flight engineer suddenly noticed that the guy, with his aquiline nose and a wide jaw, looked exactly like Abdullah from the movie “White Sun of the Desert”. It also came to his mind, if this Abdullah reached out with his long hand, he easily could grab the rifle and tear it away from the weak hands of the flight engineer F.

Abdullah seemed to understand what this white man was thinking, and looking at the rifle, he raises his eyes directly into the eyes of the flight engineer F. slowly lifting his hands. The flight engineer strained himself, and slightly raised his leg in front of him, just in case the captive might attack him. Abdullah slowly pointed at himself, then at the door, and with his beckoning smile, pointed at the exit as he was saying: “It would be not bad to leave this place, Commander”. The flight engineer disapprovingly shook his head and wagged his finger at him, then put that finger on the intercom and said:

-These freaks left me with this peasant and the peasant looks suspicious!

— Just point your gun or rifle at him, — Kezikov advised.

— I had no time to go the guns’ store today! — the flight engineer said. — I have nothing!

Abdullah, seeing his confusion, rose slightly on his knees.

— Give me something, he is standing up! — the flight engineer hissed.

Here you are, twit! — Kezikov poked him in the back with the butt of his rifle. — Just in case, be careful not to send your bullet through the tank,…

Without taking his eyes from the captive, the flight engineer put over his shoulder a Kalashnikov rifle. Then in a hurry removed its’ safety catch and reloaded the weapon.

Abdullah stood up abruptly on his knees, reaching out his hands and showing his palms, with a pleasing look.

— Sit down! — the flight engineer shouted, pointing his rifle to Abdullah’s chest. Abdullah fell down on the floor again, bowed his head and hunched over, trying to diminish his size and not to scare this man with the rifle.

When the troop came back, the flight engineer rushed to the commander.

— Are you insane or what? — he angrily exclaimed. — I am not your guard, you know! Seemed to me the guy thought I was going to kill him!

— So what? — the lieutenant gave a puzzled look to the flight engineer and said. — Oh, how tender you are!

There were three creatures, which Lieutenant F. liked in his enclosed world of war. They were: a disdainful waitress Sveta, a dog Gloomy, and his helicopter number 10. All of them were beautiful and independent.

Gloomy was a dog with a big muscular body like a lion, who always followed Sveta. He liked laying at her feet, when she sat on a porch at her dormitory. Maybe he was attached to her because she fed him, although to the lieutenant F. this strange couple appeared as an ancient mythical heroic pair. She represented a goddess of war with her mighty faithful servant. A helicopter was a dragon (because of the round body and big eyes), who faithfully served to the flight engineer F. And definitely it was a female dragon.

“My machine is very beautiful, — wrote the flight engineer F. in one of his letters. — When she is in flight, she is so gentle and I see her curves, the insides of me freeze from admiration. All harmony of the world has been collected in a sound of her engines, it is a music that needs to be heard. Her paraffin is light-yellow and transparent as…(the line was crossed out)… And her hydraulic fluid had the color and smell of cranberry juice. This machine with its convex rear doors, with smoky, splattered grease bonnets, flexible blades with a narrow long tail, with its roaring speed and heavy fire — all of these represent to me Eros and Thanatos (see “Terminology and Glosssary” — Editor) of my war.