The Torn Souls 7 страница

A sudden lightness in their bodies indicated that they were falling.

The flight engineer F., whose whole body was twisted from fear, flopped down on his folding seat. The commander pressed the gas and the shaking helicopter began climbing up.

For a while we were silent, lighting up cigarettes.

– Anyway, I do envy a flight engineer –the right pilot broke the silence and looked at the commander. – He has two seats. If he wishes he could sit here where he is now, or there, near a machinegun.

– But on other hand, – the commander picked up a line of the conversation  – if a flight engineer sits in the place where he is now, in a situation of rapid descending, he will be pinned to the helicopter ceiling with the gear, located just under his seat. If he is sitting behind a machine gun –like on the balcony – he is an open target for enemy’s bullets.

– That is right – readily agreed the right pilot. – And if a stupid eagle will fly directly into a windshield, a flight engineer will end up with fractured ribs in the cargo cabin. In case of evacuation from the helicopter, we will be ejected through the exit but a flight engineer should wait his turn or be looking for the door.

– In any case, he does not have time – the commander nodded. – Maybe that is why casualties among flight engineering staff are much higher than in any other categories of aircraft crew...

– That’s all, it is enough, commander – the flight engineer F. said. – Lets stop, I am off here.

My gun is my comrade or everything is under control

It is very early in the morning. Our hope to halt the fire from both sides have melted like lime and eventually disappeared in smoke. We ended up in the same damning military situation as it was before.

This is why when the sun just became visible over the tops of eastern mountains, the crew of the Board №10 ( see’Terminology and Glosssary”  –Editor) is already at their workplace. Being awaken as early as at half past three and eaten a solid breakfast, when the sun rays directly struck his face, it became even more inconvenient. Pilots lowered optical filters and exposed to full sun, the flight engineer F. was left alone with the dazzling light… It is so hot! He closes his eyes and sees his jumpsuit, which he washed in a thermos last night. Hot steam eats away his eyes...

Awakened by his own machine gun, the flight engineer F. pulled up his hands. He realized whilst he felt asleep, his elbow accidently pressed the trigger of the machine gun directed ahead of him. Just straight in front of him, only few inches to the left, was sitting his comrade, the leading pilot. The flight engineer anxiously looked for any consequences of such accidental shooting but it seems there was none.

– What are you firing for? – the commander asked, not realizing that the engineer has simply fallen asleep. –Have you seen someone?

– No, just checking my machine gun, – the flight engineer replied immediately.

– Be careful, do not kill the leading pilot…

– Everything is under control, the commander!

Plain air

Two people walk on an elevated bank of the river that obediently follows her riverbed curves. On the right side of the bank, there is a road, which is very close to the river. The flight engineer F. sees it from his position inside of a helicopter behind a machine gun. From time to time, he is looking at the water that seems to be flying under his feet. Suddenly, an idea came to his head. Bending over the seat, he picked up his camera FED from the parachutes that were piled on the lower glass as a protection against bullets. Having an inclination for conducting a natural experiment, the flight engineer has come up with the idea to capture the image of fire from his machine gun over the water.

With his right hand he raises the camera to his eyes, and, at the same time, he held by his left hand the left knob of the machine gun with a large finger on the trigger. This trick is very complex. Whilst he looks through the FED viewfinder, with his right hand he also needs to control a barrel of his machine gun: his left hand should hold the barrel in such a way that bullets should rip the water in a long line a distance from the nose of the machine. Whilst this will be happening, his right hand should click the camera to capture a series of fountains below.

The flight engineer F. for some time tried to coordinate both hands, the camera and his machine gun, attempting to adjust to vibration of the flight. When the moment was right, he pressed the trigger of machine gun, led the barrel from bottom to top and to the right (remembering that he should leading to the left) – and clicked the trigger on his camera.

When he stopped shooting and lowered the camera, he spotted a herd of sheep running in panic in all directions, and among them a shepherd with his hands up kneeling on the road.

“Damn! – the flight engineer mumbled –. Now I will be in trouble! ”

– Well done, kid, you did well!! – the commander praised him. – You should be first. Keep them in fear, otherwise they will launch a grenade into your tail...

The Fox and the Sparrow

The Yalanis steppe near Herat… The pair of ”Eights”( see “ Terminology and Glossary) is back from the job, finishing the blocking of several entrances to karez (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor), which goes to the Herat airfield. Dragging a heavy load, the military cars slowly crawled alongside of the karez, looking to the place where they can send their mortal massages.

Suddenly, the fox, not the usual red color, but pale with black patches, crossed the road.

– Wow! Look, look, – the commander yells, pointing with his finger towards the wild animal. – Silver Fox! Get him! Get this chaw-bacon! What a great fur it will be!

The flight engineer F. fired from the machine gun towards the running fox. The deadly weapon of the helicopter chases the fox tail which was winding like a snake. The engineer pitied this fox. He understands that nothing will be left when bullets of the caliber 7. 62 will reach the fox. There will be no animal, nor a useful skin because it will be full of numerous holes. This is why he is hammering bullets a little bit long or little bit short, avoiding a direct contact with the animal.

– What is wrong with, you?! Why you cannot get it! – Commander angrily roared.

Pushing away a blister, the flight engineer F. aimed to shoot at the animal, but the fox suddenly disappeared – it simply dissolves into the rocks.

– Damn! – the commander says. – I placed this fox on a silver platter plate and served it to you.. your business was to end it. And you… muffed it..

– I pitied the fox, – the engineer confesses.

– Come on! Just admit that you are just a shitty shooter.

The flight engineer F engineer was resentfully silent. He takes a cigarette and lights it up. The helicopter started to speed up. Holding the cigarette with his left hand, he rested his elbow on the left knee. The flight engineer F. keeps smoking, His right hand fingers kept irritably knocking on the top of the machine gun. With no warning, a little sparrow zigzagged in the air right ahead of him.

“Watch it! ”  – the flight engineer F. angrily muttered and effortlessly pressed a trigger, without moving any muscles. A doubled sound of one shot – and... a feather bloody splatter glued to the windshield!

Surprised by his own result, the flight engineer F. keeps smoking in the same position. “There is a God! ”  – he admits. Two stunned pilots have been keeping silent for some time. After this long pause, the commander unzipped his lips:

– I got it... Please, accept my apologies!

The tiredness of the flight engineer F.

February 12, 1987. At midday, the letters were delivered by two soldiers, who brought the mail on the way from Turagundey.

A flight engineer F. tidied his bed and was ready go to get lunch. But whilst he was closing a door, he spotted a fast approaching cloud of dust far away that moved towards his quarters from a compact duty house. In a second, the cloud took the shape of squadron engineer – major Ivanov. Waving his hand, major Ivanov was shouting something. Swearing to himself, the flight engineer F. walked towards the unexpected guest.

– The Head of Air squadron has been sacked! – heavily catching his breath, the major cracked the news.

– For what? – the flight engineer F. asked trying to guess the cause of this news.

– Do not be stupid – the major exploded. – “What do you mean what for? or why!? Because it is all bullshit, that is why! He was knocked down! In the area of Dilarama the column got involved in an ambush and the commander flew to the rescue of them. He did well with mujahedeens (see “Terminology and Glossary”– Editor). But when he started landing to pick up the wounded ones, his helicopter’s bottom was sliced up. The fuel tap and tail rotor thrust were also severely damaged. He crashed somewhere near the enemy camp. As usual, the second helicopter, “the leader”, landed to collect them all, but mujaheeens attacked both of them from the hill. Regardless of the severity of the attacks, the commander had a chance to fly away, with only one supplying tank, to Farahrudskoy Point. Over there, he is now coordinating the fire and, I bet, he will be awarded no less than the “Banner swung”, and may receive the “Hero” title ( see “Terminology and Glossary”– Editor). Of course, if he will not be shot down beforehand (God forbid! ). Now he is asking for help, just give him a few more guys to collect the wounded ones. Listen, – the major directed the question to me, – is your board ready?

In five minutes, a tandem of two №10 and № 92 were flying towards the southeast, in the direction of Dilaramu. We reached the pinnacle in no time, and without descending, flew over Daulatabad.

– “What, the hell, the riot police division sits there doing nothing, why are they not helping? It is only two minutes of flying from them... ”  – the commander said without hiding his anger.

We passed the ridge and approached a road-crossing with bridges over the Farah River. Between the bridges, our column got jammed and kept firing back at the pursuing enemy. We spotted the battlefield by the black smoke of a burning helicopter. We reduced our altitude to three hundred, established a radio-contact with the column, and the situation became clear: our guys and their enemy were located across from each other, on the opposite sides of the road.

– While I will target the left, you do work on the right! Do it hard: we should not see their muzzles! – the commander ordered.

The flight engineer F. opened fire on the right side of the road, blurred by smoke, the enemies, swarmed into the thick dust and became almost invisible. Curved trails of a shower of bullets went down and were lost in fumes. It was not possible to see whether or not they reached their targets.

– “Air”, you have been targeted! –a warning came from the column.

– I confirm! – the commander’s voice dropped down. – Let’s do manoeuvrings!

– The right one is in full gear! –the commander order directed the helicopter into the sky, towards the sun.

From both helicopters, the bullets went down like water from cracked barrels, then both of them turned around, simultaneously working out mujahidin positions. The explosions, like a blanket of black tulips, have covered an entire right side of the road. The flight engineer kept firing into the smoke until his bullets finished.

– What the hell? – the commander suddenly asked, fidgeting knees. – Pedals are stuck! Eventually, they got us – the machine is damaged. What a death trap we caught!

The flight engineer F., who was trying to fix the receiver for a new bullet line, looked down on the helicopters’ floor. There were at least two hundred bullets that had slipped from the output socket. Most of them were hiding behind the parachutes, but a couple of them fell under the commander’s legs, and a very special one ended up under the right pedal and, therefore, jammed it.

– Give me a sec, commander – the flight engineer F. said. He bends over, stretched out his hand trying to reach this bullet and release the pedal, but the bullet was stuck to the pedal like glue.

– Move your leg! – the flight engineer F. pushed with his fist the commander’s leg. The commander pulled out his leg from the right boot. The flight engineer F. pulled out the trouble causing bullet, swept away a few more bullets with his sleeve from the floor and ordered. – Push on the gas pedal!

– Well done, thank you, God! – the commander sighed. – Lets fly, darling!

We started descending and landed on the left side near a hill. Over the hill the noise of thunder and bombing continued. We loaded the dead and wounded ones. When the loading was finished, the soldier, who was helping to carry the bodies into the helicopter, sat on the bench, and grabbed his hair with his fingers covered by blood and dirt.

– Have you been wounded, brother? – the flight engineer F. looked at the face of the soldier. But the soldier said nothing, looking straight ahead with empty eyes. A sweaty sergeant popped in and shook the soldier:

– What has happened, Serge?

He lightly slapped the soldier’s face.

– Hey, run to your comrades, – he said.

The soldier, coming to his senses, jumped and ran away.

– Thank you very much! – the sergeant shook hands with the flight engineer.

From the cockpit, the commander commented:

– God bless you, guys, but the “whistles” will be here in a minute and they do have a bad habit of wiping out everything around. Let’s hit the road, so we do not get in their way. We will be back later.

We took off at a low altitude and headed north, hiding behind the hill. Jumped over the ridge, and we landed on the point near Daulatabad where GRU (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor) was based. We took two more wounded and returned home.

The “whistles” were striking from the top like lightning.

– Hello, “vertical! ” (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor).

– Keep yourself busy, doves of the peace! – the commander kindly replied. In a few minutes, the air was heavily filled with the sprawling congestion of roaring:

– Reset-r-ro-os.. !

And the squadron commander with his calming voice from above:

– Not a bad job...

And the voice of the column echoed:

– Could not be done better.

We were almost exhausted. We reached the hospital, unloaded, and flew towards our parking lot.

The flight engineer F. stepped out of the helicopter and noted that it is evening. Everything around – the parking lot and the helicopters –were in red from the setting sun that send down these mysterious, almost endless, shadows...

He met Lieutenant Mukhametshin who was holding a gun together with a protective helmet in his hand and was curious why the flight engineer F. is still here so late because he was told to replace him. Now he is waiting for the another crew to fly back.

– No need, – the flight engineer F. said – I am in good shape. I feel great, more than ever...

Strangely, he felt a strong excitement; after all of this, he wanted to go back!

He nervously lit up the cigarette and, pacing back and forward on the parking lot, was telling all details of his flight to Lieutenant Mukhametshin.

– This time it is better to go much lower to see if anyone is left there. But firing with machine gun will be risky- it is too far and no damn clear thing to see. Also we can strike our guys.

The engineer-mechanic came to check the machine:

– Have you any holes? Good. Few more trips with this machine will do. Fill the petrol to the maximum, cover this machine and then you can go for dinner.

And he ran away.

What a relief! We filled to full capacity including two additional tanks. But before flight engineer F. was able to take off his gun, the commander, the Major Bozhko, with Senior Lieutenant Shevchenko, approached the helicopter.

– How much petrol did you put in?

– Up to the maximum, as the engineer- mechanic ordered. He said - another crew will fly.

– He is an asshole, – Bozhko spat. – We have no other crew! It is getting dark and we need to fly at high altitude. How we will do it with a full load of petrol plus wounded on the way back? Let’s hope that this machine is powerful enough to accomplish this flight. Start the engine!

And in this moment, flight engineer F., who had just relaxed a bit after the engineer-mechanic order, suddenly felt that his legs could not hold him anymore. The weakness spread over his body. The scenario of events from the previous flight quickly passed through his mind and the flight engineer F. understood that the second flight will be unbearable for him.

– You know, Felix, – he said-it turns out, I am really tired. It is your turn as you said.

– What a hell! – Lieutenant Mukhametshin (who also was hoping to get a rest) started to swear but turned back and went to start the helicopter.

The sun quickly disappeared and suddenly became dark. The tandem of helicopters took off with the safest altitude of 3500. The flight engineer F. finished his dinner, drank a prescribed half glass of vodka, came to his unit and shortly reported to comrades what has been done on the job, and then fell into bed like a log with last words “Wake me up, when they return. ”

The hairdo for a stupid

The military tandem of two helicopters are taken on a flight to Loshkarevka. On the leading board number 10 there is Division commander, the Colonel General. He is in a hurry and nervous. He periodically orders:

– Add the speed.

But the pair of helicopters are already flying up to their limit with a maximum speed. In order to get to Loshkarevka quickly, the decision was made to take a shortcut and fly away from all roads. Now there is nothing around us – harsh desert with not a single reference point. But we don’t need it – the commander goes in a straight line, strictly maintaining the course. The right pilot is absently looking forward, the flight engineer is tapping his fingers on the machine gun.

The Colonel General, who sits behind the flight engineer, pushed his shoulder and asked:

– How much longer?

“I guess, – the flight engineer F. thought – the General thinks that I am the most competent person among all of us “. He nods at the direction of the right pilot:

– Colonel General, ask the navigator.

The Colonel General pushes the shoulder of the right pilot-navigator:

– Where are we?

The navigator, caught off guard, grabbed the map and began studying it for a while, but there is nothing you can see there – it is only a desert. He looks at the map, then at the window, again back to the map. After moving his finger over the map for some time, he questionably looks at the commander.

The enraged Colonel stretched out his hand to the head of navigator and fiercely removed his headset.

– I knew it! – he says, looking at the untied navigator’s hair. – Do you think you can do combat missions with such a hairdo?

The service of heroes

This is just another day. The same people in this chapter. The Division commander, Colonel General, has arrived to Gerat. The military YAZ and BTR approached the landed aircraft. ”I will be back in an hour... ”– the Division commander said and took off on a military YAZ. BTR was left to guard the helicopters.

– Listen, commander, – the right pilot suggested, – I do have some friendly connections in a bread making factory here. Can I have your permission to get yeast for brewing samogon (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor?

– Will a half an hour be enough for you? – the commander looked at his watch.

– I will be back in 10 minutes! – and the right pilot-navigator left together with BTR.

.. A half an hour passed, then forty minutes, then forty five..

The commander is nervously pacing back and forward near the helicopter, constantly looking at the direction of disappeared BTR with his pilot-navigator.

–If he will be back, I will kill this brat! – the commander promised to himself.

.. A whole hour is gone. Fortunately, the Colonel also has been late.

Finally, the APC ( see “Terminology and Glossary”– Editor) arrived and a pilot-navigator’s dead drunk body was unloaded by soldiers.

– Maybe it will be easier to shoot myself before the Colonel arrives? – the commander asked himself, – or better to shoot this animal and report it as a casualty? What can we do with this dead body if we cannot arrange him in the sitting position?

The commander together with the flight engineer F. managed to wrap up the senseless body with tape and placed in a tiny cargo section, tying up the drunken pilot to a spare blade to make sure that this undisciplined body will be not leaving the helicopter until the end of the flight.

Only for a second, the body became the pilot-navigator and mumbled:

– O, commander! I report, their samogon (see “Terminology and Glossary”– Editor) is really yuk! But I must test it to save you from poisoning. I feel sooo baaad!

The military car together with the Colonel came back. The commander saluted to the Colonel and reported:

– The General Colonel! Allow me to report that our pilot-navigator from the leading helicopter got sunstroke!

– This is the one without a proper hair style? I knew it! This why he got it! – with a sort of satisfaction the Colonel commented, – well, where he is? I want to look at him.

Whilst the Colonel is proceeding to the place where the body was peacefully fixed and waiting for the flight, the commander who was following him, makes all sorts of angry grimaces to his crew with the one massage – to save the situation. The crew have circled the body of the undisciplined pilot and pretended to be applying First Aid.

– Well, well, what do we have here? – the Colonel said, leaning towards the unfavourable pilot... and in this very moment the right pilot-navigator vomited all his consumed brew on the floor. The shocked Colonel tool a back step and was ready to release his anger, when the commander shouted:

– All of us immediately back! He contained krasnuha (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor).

The smell of alcohol was very distinctive, but the General, with no doubt, run towards the second helicopter and ordered:

– Start engines immediately! Your comrade needs help!

The pilot-navigator was delivered to Shindand without any troubles in his own machine. Close to the time of landing, the “leader” (see “ Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor) has heard that the Colonel ordered an ambulance to the airfield landing site.

– What a warm hearted Colonel we have! – the commander commented and edited the order- Listen guys, we will wait for the ambulance in the very end of the 3rd line.

All helicopters landed. The ambulance N10 was waiting on the very end of line 3 as they were told. Waving to the second pilot to direct their machine with the Colonel on board to the parking lot, the commander approached the doctor from the ambulance. He explained the situation. The doctor smiled and said:

– I got it. We will drive him to the medical module and then kick him out.

The commander taxied his machine to the parking lot, and went to meet the Colonel who was waiting for him to ask about the poor guy’s health:

– Has he received instant help in the hospital?

– Yes, sir.

– Your service is very important for the country. Also it is very dangerous. I would say, it is the service of heroes.

“A Golden route”

Flights to Chaghcharan, for supporting MI-6, were a complete torture for “Eights”. We had to crawl at the highest altitude, just above rocky pinnacles that were covered with snow, on which we could see not only wild goats, but also groups of armed people. A little below, in the glens, our death – the anti-aircraft DShK’s large-calibre machine-guns – were sheltered. This is why our helicopters had to drag along at the very top.

The most offensive thing was that we had no chance to take any action, even if we do noticed that we have been a target of attention from some jihad’s (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor) enthusiasts. Every minute of delay consumed precious litres of fuel. The full refuelling including two additional fuel tanks allowed us to reach Chaghcharan (about 400 km) and return back without extra curriculum activity.

Now, the headwind and a non-stop fuel eating heater forced us to consider refuelling in Chaghcharan to avoid falling down into snowy mountains on the way back. The refuelling means milking the most fuel efficient helicopter. It is a manual procedure, when necessary (300-400 litres) barrels of kerosene will be carried together with pals from MI-6 by hand.

Our sufferings were compensated by pristine mountain snow. We staffed all army thermoses with this snow. So, when we return, making a Ceylon tea or “Bergamot Lipton” with this natural, non-chlorinated, water was a special treat for us.

And, of course, do not forget about huge bags of Yugoslav biscuits and sweets which were dragged into Chagcharan’ little shops and sold there at a high price as a result of peculiarities of the mountain’s market, mainly related to its inaccessibility. As a rule, these goods were not properties of pilots– all goods belong to landsmen (see “Terminology and Glossary”– Editor, who had more opportunity to extract some army supplies for private use. Usually before a trip, landsmen approached pilots and asked them to sell the extracted leftovers at the highest price. There was even a special term for this market activity – “shmekerit” meaning by flying slang “to trade”  – a complicated process, which strategies have been understood by the flight engineer F.

After his first flight of two and a half hours of shaking above the frosty rocky peaks, a constant attention to spot DShS and avoid them (last time we spotted them, turned around, but could not find them. It turned out, as we established during the next flights, that DShS points had the rolling back roof ); running back and forward with kerosene buckets. And after all of this, when you got to Duckan, where was a little boy who cheated the flight engineer F. on converting five hundred packets of sweets into currencies. A final piece of strategy was a silence during a return flight when the deep-in -thought flight engineer F. calculated the profit from this trading, holding a piece of a paper with pencil in his hands.

The flight technician was trying to estimate a percent of his earning from that dangerous flight. If one packet of sweets sold for 26 afgashek (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor), there would be nothing shameful to say that he sold it for 25. But within half an hour of that flight it became obvious that 24 afgashek is a normal price too. In one hour, after they turned around from the place where they had been shot at – 20 afgashek seemed to be an acceptable price. After their landing with a residual fuel of only 50 litres left an owner of these goods came to collect his money, the flight technician F., stinking of snow and kerosene, gave him a roll, tied up with a pink elastic band, and said:

– Sold it for 17.

And, looking at the trader’s stretched face, added:

– What did you expect? You said to get a maximum, but Mi-6 had already overstocked the whole market and spoiled our market trade opportunity, you know. This is a maximum for today. I wanted to take one afoshka (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor)), for my job, but I will not, as I will be embarrassed to rob you.

April Fool’s Day

1st of April, 1987. The MI-8 helicopter, accompanied by MI-24, is coming to the Iranian border, towards an area of salt lakes. Two of them, in the usual military tandem, are flying to a so-called ”friendly gang” (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor), carrying on board one of them a peculiar evidence of the established “ friendship”  – a big “Sony” TV. The leader of this group via this “ friendship” had already received a diesel generator, a videotape recorder, and a set of video cassettes with Indian movies. The TV set should crown this pyramid of his prosperity. In exchange, the leader obliged by informing us about other hostile gangs, their planning and movements.

The pair of helicopters have passed Herat and turned away from a mountain ridge to the west. “Twenty-fourths” (MI-24), with a lack of fuel, as usual, which did not allow them to fly for long distances, returned back to the Herat airport, wishing us to have a good trip, and promised to meet us on the way back. “Eighths” (MI-8) have lowered the altitude to their minimum – 3 metres—and amused themselves by frightening their land-walking “colleagues” by flying over the road, passing lonely tanks and APCs (see “Terminology and Glossary”– Editor). Those who were sticking out of the hatches or sitting on the APCs”, firstly were hearing only roaring, when suddenly over their heads, a heavy monster, for a moment, covered the sun with kerosene wind, and displaying its brown flashing bottom, and then suddenly disappeared, kindly shaking wings with missile blocks to say good-by.

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