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

After Moskovchenko’s permission to leave the class, I went to greet him.

— Hey, bro! How are you?

— Fine….

— When you arrived?

— In the morning.

— How is your leg?

— Okay… Let’s go.

— Let’s go!

A very talkative guy….

To say the truth, I did not know him well. We even did not greet each other before the Dusya’s story, but now according the army tradition, I was his Godfather as I saved his life… I never understand this tradition. What will be different if somebody else will pull you out from the direct line of fire? Where is a heroic act? To save your brother was a daily routine of military assaults…. But, the tradition is, of course, a holy cause and according to the rules, I was his Godfather, and the savior should be awarded with a good dinner…

They went to the kennel, approaching a gate…. when suddenly I stood up in shock and nearly fainted: on a cape, at the gate, Dick was laid down motionlessly with the recognized contour of a dead body… Dick was dead… Our Dick… I remember a sudden emptiness flooded into my chest, a spasm clicked my neck not letting the air in or out. An enormous pain froze my heart. I felt bad, really bad.

Next to Dick, Trubilin stood up lowering his head and looking lost and weak-where is his mask of a cool master and an emotionless order machine? — together with some guys from autumn’s conscription. All kept silent.

— Well, let’s do it? — the invitation to join then for burying Dick registered in my brain. They all were waited me. Composing myself, I told Fedor to bring a young solder to dig the grave. Fedor immediately echoed: “Ryzha…”, spitted his cigarette out and went to find Ryzha. I went to Trubilin.

It did happen unexpectedly and suddenly…

In the morning together with the replacements, Fedor arrived. Immediately after reporting to his superiors, he went looking for Truba and after finding him, both of them went to the kennel. Truba said that this morning Dick was not himself, unsettled, he definitely sensed that Fedor was somewhere very close to him.

When they were approaching, Dick sensed him and began to howl loudly. He got off a leash and for a good five minutes these two were hugging and kissing each other. Right in the same place, where Dick was now.

Trubilin says that dog was not just screaming, he cried, shouted in a voice like a man. Trubilin even tried to mimick this sound being emitted by a dog: “Ah-ah Ah-ah-ah!”

Fedor sat on the ground. Dick placed his chest to Fedor’s knees and put his head in his hands… and became quiet.

When exactly he died, nobody knew but when it was noticed, of course, there was a great deal of reviving, massaging, injecting, even CPR was applied….

But it was the end of Dick’s road. He got what he wanted — to meet his master, his pal, his best mate. He said goodbye to Fedor and left this world.

Standing in front of me the tough man, Ensign Trubilin, was crying like a baby without even wiping his eyes. The strong, stern man, a real tough cookie was vulnerable and helpless. He has done so much! So much… And this was the end… Nothing you can change or amend, only accept this and keep living as you can.

Urgaliev came closer. They picked up a cape and carried Dick to his grave dug on top of the hill, about thirty meters away from an outpost of a tank’s regiment.

The hill offers the very best view that can be found at our regiment’s location. Deep down, at the bottom of hills, the Kokcha river makes a sharp bend which forces her turbulent water to rush further down for its unsettled journey through the mountains and hills. Straight across, the river washed away the cliff and formed picturesque caves displaying its glory. On the both banks of the river, reeds, never frozen during a winter, marched as soldiers.

In the very far distance, the sparkling white hats of Hindu Kush mountains loomed sending its brilliance all the time during winter and summer. If you look a little bit right, glowing overweight glaciers of Pamir were illuminating their shiny icy pinnacles.

From the opposite side, a surging pinnacle covered half of the sky. Very soon Dick, this coming spring, your master Fedor will be flying to this desired direction that seems in front of you and so close, but in real life — an eternity of waiting to reach…

Fedor composed himself well. He got down on his knees and said, “Goodbye, Dick”. He kissed his eyes and stood aside. Large round teardrops like beads were hanging on his eyelashes, nose and rolling down to his cheeks, his lips, He did not move. He stood and looked at the dog weeping silently.

No one interrupted…

Then I came to Dick, I put my hand on the massive head the first and last time…. Goodbye Dick, goodbye friend, the best friend ever…

Trubilin pulled his small gun Stechkin (see “Terminology and Glossary”? Editor) out of his jacket’s pocket and made three shots, saluting in the air….

Temir monotonically murmured the same favorite song of Dick. He always sang this song to him…

…It is only when you feel a real pain from your torn soul compressed in your chest to the point that you cannot take a breath, that only then you start to look around and notic what others do, what they talk and sing.

In the early autumn of 1994, I arrived in Voronezh, a home town of a great Russian writer Ivan Ivanovich Evseenko, who invited me to stay at his house. This friendly family loves a literature, music. It was a house full of cats….

Despite my busy schedule, I had time to visit museums. The museums in Voronezh, unlike in my city Lugansk, are presented very well.

Once I was walking on the central New Moscow street and suddenly, from behind I heard “Glebych!” I turned around… and I saw a man with a clean shaved face, dressed in the latest fashioned brick-and-lilac jacket and trousers with a matching t-shirt in a black color, with fashioned shiny shoes and gold chains reflecting the sunshine. Wow! What gloss! What glamour! The figure of a typical underground New Russian, with a compulsory attached Beretta gun, BMW with dark-windows and an openly displayed muscled security, opened his arms and was ready to give me his greeting kiss… wow-wow… hold on! The last thing in my life that I wanted is to be kissed by a criminal representative of the new Russian economy… Sorry, it is too much for me…I stopped him with a polite but distant “Hello!”

The guy was seeking my eyes, twittering around me, trying to look into my face. He could not understand why I would not recognise him, nor praise him for his success or envy his money. I do not know him! I have not seen him in my life at all and that’s it!

With visibly evaporating self-confidence, the guy kept trying to reach my heart:

— How are you, Glebych? What business brings you to us? Where you are staying? How things are going?

I could not get it… He definitely knows me. I put my brain in a high speed trying to recall in which situation I could see him… But I failed… and our short conversation for the next two minutes reminded me of a reprise of two clowns in a circus but clearly demonstrated to the guy that I indeed did not recognize him. A resentment quickly appeared in his eyes but was immediately gone.

— Hey, bro, have you not recognised me? I am Lyoha Ruzhy! From the de-mining battalion…Remember — Ryzha!?

Ah-ah-ah! Well, of course, now I remember! We cuddled to broken bones! Forgive me, my brother, my wounded head plays with me from time to time.

Hugging, we started on a new tone of what, where, how… I could not resist to sarcastically pull him down:

— So, my friend, you joined the trend too? — I pointed at his “New Russian” fashioned outfit.