The Torn Souls 10 страница

One day the board N10 took the wounded ones from Chaghcharan town. When the chopper took off and climbed to the top of the ridge, heading towards Shindand, the flight engineer F. began assisting the doctor to set the drips – he tightened the tourniquets- or held the soldiers’ arms, trying to minimize vibration, so the doctor could inject the veins – and at this altitude the vibration was so hard that it resembles being in a racing cart. Soon the air loss at this high altitude started to affect two soldiers, who were wounded in the chest, and began turning blue, constantly choking, and blowing up pink bubbles.

But there was nothing that we could do at this height, and the commander decided to land his pair of helicopters to make sure that the wounded ones could survive until we reached a hospital... but at the landing spot, at the valleys near a river, the jihadist (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor) were already waiting for us. Spitting liquid fire to jihadist, we somehow got away. To avoid a risky landing again, it was decided to do landing one more time near the mountain range of Safed Koh, so the wounded will be breathing the air with their bloody mouths. And again, after descending from the pinnacle, after searching through the gully for a safe landing, they were shot at by Afghans from their “Boers” (see “Termonology and Glossary”– Editor).

When they got to a hospital, the wounded ones were alive, but this flight finally made the onboard technician F. very angry. For the next flight to the mountains, he prepared well: put on board two ordinary barrels and filled them with kerosene. The onboard technician of the main one 27, Lieutenant Mukhametshin, did the same thing. They both charged machine gun belts with more bullets and scored six rocket units each.

Now they were ready.

…The flight was a very slow one. They were roaming the valleys, looking behind every tree, teasing shepherds and farmers by faking their helplessness... and the bite was swallowed.

– We are being shot – the main helicopter suddenly reported. – It seems that they hit our tail. But we are still going…

The commander immediately directed the pair of choppers to fly along the river bed on the left, hiding behind the mountain. Enemies knew about our problems with the fuel, this is why they fired at the tail all the time. Usually, in such situations, helicopters flew away without looking back and the crews helplessly grind their teeth. But this time it was different.

– Now, I will show you, assholes! – and the commander turned the chopper for the attack.

They saw that a truck with the heavy machine gun stopped on the river bank, and three bearded men were stretching on the grass and laughing at cowardly shuravis (see “Terminology and Glossary”  – Editor).

The clouds go sullen on the border of my country.. – the commander whispered a line from a well- known patriotic song and directed his helicopter higher, to the top of the mountain, and from there the two choppers, simultaneously, flew down on the heads of the bearded men- who did not expect such meanness, - they jumped up: one rushed to the cockpit, the other two climbed into their truck as soon as they have spotted two dragons falling from the sky. The flight engeneer F. pressed a trigger with his fingers – nothing left after his gesture! – and a string of bullets ripped off the car door with tracers waving on the truck like snakes...

– And the samurai were falling down.. – now the commander was shouting his favorite song, and, at the same time, pressing the trigger, – …under the pressure of steel and fire! – and he finished his song.

The truck flew up and fell back to the ground in the form of unrecognized metal and rubber precipitations that were burning. The smoke was rising up – a piercing black bubble against the background of the sugary white peaks.

– Even if someone survived- the commander said– we will not finish them. I am sure, they crapped in their pants and they will be remember the fear for the rest of their life. From now on they are just ordinary shit-asses...

For the rest of their way back, the crew was singing “On the border the clouds go sullen, silence enveloped the edge of the stern”, which they finished with the line “The crew of a battle machine!!! ” with a special feeling and tears in their eyes from pride.

Despite the merry signing, the flight engenner F. kept sending long strings of bullets to the sloppy hills in all directions. To make sure, to make them heard and to be feared.

On arrival, it turned out that the leading helicopter was hit by the heavy machine gun with a mortal shell of 12. 7 mm. The bullet pierced the back flap, ricocheted off to the opposite side, went through the empty kerosene barrels and lodged there, sticking out its smashed nose.

This kind of bullet (including those that were made in China) had a very powerful demolishing force. One such bullet went through the bottom of a helicopter, and passed all layers of parachutes, stopped at the bottom of a stool, where a navigator Senior lieutenant B. used to sit, touching his bum with its hot pointy nose. During the heat of battle he did not realize what had taken place, but on the ground, after discovering a sharp bump, Senior lieutenant realized what could of happened and he collapsed. Only a glass of vodka helped him to return to his senses. After suffering from such stress the repeat doses of a glass of vodka could never knock pilots down – but only alleviate them.

When the bullet was removed from the barrel, flight technician F. narrowed his eyes:

– You know, Felix, – they were aiming at your bum. If not for my barrel, this bullet would have drilled a hole under your seat.

– If it was not for your barrel – Lieutenant Mukhametshin shivered – we would not have this bravado trip in the first place, damn you!

– But now they are scared. They know who is in-charge!

And, indeed, the Chagcharan route became much safer.

The Fondant Chocolate

At the very beginning of his war, the flight engineer F. was transporting three officers with their cargo, which included a bunch of jackets, packed lunch boxes, canned meat, canned butter and potatoes. Among the usual stuff there were some personal items: a “Sanyo” portable tape recorder and several boxes of chocolate with an inscription on their labels in Slavonic, but not in Russian: “Litoyi chokolat”. This chocolate inexplicably excited the imagination of the flight technician F.

He imagined that there, in the boxes, wrapped in colorful foil, are figurines cast in dark chocolate. It reminded him of a hygienic set “Moidodyr” for children, in which a molded soap in the shape of squirrels were placed next to a round box of tooth powder; he imagined the same squirrel, and other small animals, but made of chocolate.

Later, when he had some money, he had learned that those boxes had no chocolate, but contained ordinary Yugoslavian made lollypops “Bonko”. They had very pretty packaging, they were themselves pretty as semiprecious stones – the rocks shaped by the sea, – they were delicious, more delicious than the berries they were named after – but... it was a disappointment. Well, anyway, the image of chocolate - warm, heavy, glossy figurines stuck in the head of flight engineer F.

One day, the pair of choppers were bringing cargo to the advisors’ village somewhere in the south. Upon arriving, the pilots did everything that should be done, then started the ignition and took off. To save time and fuel, they decided to cut corners, and, without flying around the villages, take a direct flight.

The choppers took the safest route –above the villa of the advisors. They were flying neither high, nor low – something around fifteen metres – just to be sure not to touch the trees, but also diminish the risk of attack. So, when the first one flew over the villa, and the second one was just approaching it, major Bozhko transmitted:

– Oh, myyyyyyy God!. do not look down, young people!

After these words both crews, from the leading and the second helicopter, looked down with an extreme curiousness. Beneath them they saw a line of widely ramified Himalayan cedars; and there was also a blue rectangle pool, confined by a high fence, next to a substantial building. However, it was not the beauty of this “Taj Mahal” composition, but a reflection of the white villa in the calm water with a background of the blue sky, that made the entire crew lose their breathe.

On the pink sand near the pool, on identical towels with a pattern of slashing red and blue stripes, two young women were lying like candies wrapped in this surrealistic reality. One was lying on her stomach, the other one – on her back. Their bodies were naked and tanned. Shining sun reflected on their wet bodies. Two chocolate figures lying on the wrappers – they are a chocolate dream, those squirrels!

– The Fondant chocolate! – the flight engineer F. whispered and felt a taste of dark chocolate and cognac in his mouth. Yes, these figurines must have cognac in them...

It was like the helicopters had came across, and been stricken by an invisible force, which cause them to shiver slightly. The left and right pilots, sticking out their heads into the open blisters, were looking down; the right one even waved with his hand. The flight engineer F. also was looking down at his feet, through the lower glass under the bed gun. The water started to ripple, the bathers’ beach towels began hurriedly slapping their mistresses as they try to cover from the looks above. But the women were not embarrassed at all; they lent on their elbows, and waved to the dragons that were crawling over them.

– Hey, where are you? – Said Bozhko. – Have you got lost between their tits, or what? Catch up quickly!

And the second helicopter with a guilty bowing of its head followed the leader.

The Duel

Sveta was beautiful; she was the waitress in a diner. To be exact, she was gorgeous, or, perhaps, she was rather absolutely stunning. However, not everyone shared this opinion of flight engineer F.

Her green eyes, big lips, a careless “ponytail”, slim, flexible, tanned body, small breasts, which were covered with a tight-fitting T-shirt, but revealing a dark flat stomach – all of these, of course, could excite those who were having breakfast, lunch or dinner. But not everyone openly admired her. Many people grimaced when her name was mentioned.

Maybe her provocative small breasts were a stumbling block for lovers, but there was another reason for such attitude of the majority of the summer crew. The beautiful woman was not responding to signs of the attention that she was receiving. Once, when a major extended his affectionate hand to Sveta’s tanned thigh while she was pouring him tea, she calmly said:

– Hands off, or I will rinse your bald head with this boiling water. – And she shook a large kettle slightly in the direction of the major’s face.

The flight engineer F.. was fearful of her. Rather, he was scared that she might be rude to him, so he tried communicating with her politely and using a minimal set of words. Entering the diner in the morning, he would say “Good morning”  – and she could kindly respond. His “Thank you” will be following by a very friendly “You’re welcome” or “That’s OK”. And this was enough for the lieutenant to hope that she could treat him differently compared to others.

Some guys explained her weary contempt by a rumor that Sveta came here from Odessa city. According to the rumor, over there she was in charge of a large department store, but the financial troubles allegedly forced her to flee to the “wild south”. Someone also suggested that the waitress was suffering from dissatisfaction with her personal life.

– That bitch! – Some would say when she left swinging her hips after throwing the plates on the table with a loud bang. The senior lieutenant Sklyarenko was the one who raged about her the most.

– What the hell is that! – he fumed. – Again, there are no knives on the tables, and this chick does not even care! By the way, we have to go into battle with a quiet mind. And here in the diner…– I cannot stand it!

One day, when Sveta, proudly holding her head and carrying a tray in her hands, was passing lieutenant Sklyarenko’s table, he said loudly:

– Excuse me, waitress, bring me the kettle, please!

Without turning her head, Sveta replied:

– Take it from the table next to you.

– I want you to bring it to me! – Senior lieutenant raised his voice.

The waitress took a full kettle and put it down on the table with force. Hot tea poured from the spout onto the lieutenant’s knees.

– A-ah-ah! – He cried and jumped up, knocking over a chair. – What have you done, you bitch! You did it on purpose!

Sveta, leaning across the table and looking into the eyes of senior lieutenant, quietly but clearly said:

– Fuck you, asshole!

– What did you say? – the senior lieutenant was cross. – Comrade Commander! Comrade Commander!

And Squadron Commander, who was sitting at a table together with a chief of staff and the deputy commander for political work, sighed wearily:

– 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…

Tenderness incompatible with life

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 № 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!

The portrait with a pomegranate

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.

As for Sveta, the flight engineer F. had made no attempt to get closer to Sveta, although every mornings he would ask Gloomy “Say hello to your hostess”. Gloomy sleeps in the corridor of a dormitory because they did not allow him to sleep inside of their room. Maybe the flight engineer F did not want to destroy the mystery created by his imagination, or maybe he was just afraid that she would refuse him as she refused all the other men. Although, the flight engineer F was a fatalist, who believes in fate.

It should be said that the flight engineer F. could not impatiently look at any flawless forms of life. If he saw something beautiful, he must grab a piece of paper and a pencil in his hand; and he began to draw a picture.

Mostly, naked women and bareback horses were the theme of his drawings. Sometimes he combined these themes and drew a naked woman on a horseback. In his opinion, these two kinds of living beings were the most perfect that the Creator sculpted.

When the flight engineer F., for the first time entered the dining room of the Shindad’s air base, he saw how a waitress Sveta was proudly carrying her tray, how her fringe and tail were moving in time with her steps, how she was looking and snorting with her nostrils flared with discontent. He could not resist it.

In his room, on a shelf was a rolled up poster. On one side of the poster was a picture of a caravan inspection; it displayed how a landed leading chopper was on the right behind the caravan ( picturing three camels who were directed by two cameleers in trousers and turbans); there was also a second helicopter pictured in the upper left corner. Sketching with a brown pencil, the poster also demonstrated all distances and shelling sectors towards the mountains pictured somewhere on the horizon.

But the other side of this poster was clear, and after wiping with a loaf of white bread, the surface of this side became pristine. Flight engineer F. borrowed from everyone all pencil stubs and began his work.

In the evening he pinned the sheet to the plywood wall in his tiny kitchen, moved a bench under the table to have more free space, took a step back, squinted, stretched out his hand with a pencil, swinging in the air like a sword, and with a few light touches he started his drawing of a feminine silhouette..

– My beautiful has arrived... – he was whispering, stepping back.

She was standing, looked up to the sky and covered her eyes from the sun with her palm. She was naked, with the barely outlined collarbones, nipples-eyelets, a navel, and knees...

After admiring her transparent nudity for a few minutes, he wrapped her thighs with the thin piece of a white cloth.

Wow! – the flight engineer Losenkov had exclaimed peering over his shoulder. – I wonder how good the picture will be, when you will finish it …

The artist did not answer, he covered the picture with a clean rag. He knew that he should stop painting her, that any further drawing would kill the magic of unspoken things, but he wanted to transfer to the paper not only her lines and figure, but the entire mosaic of her flesh, her tanned and delicate skin, which was like something powdered with a sweet pollen, which he would not be tired of licking, if only...

So, he continued the creation of the picture in his mind. During breakfast, lunch and dinner, he looked delicately at the waitress, mentally drawing her head, torso, legs, the location of her bumps and dimples; and then he repeated the sketch on his thigh with his finger. Her skirt was short and legs were long and her opened shirt showed her soft elastic belly and ribs, which he wanted to take with both hands and open her like a pomegranate full of seeds...

Then after a dinner, returning to his unit, he usually takes out his notebook, and a pencil; then he will be drawing a sketch of her body, how he had memorized by drawing on his thigh that was still burning from the imaginative sketches of her.

During the nights, he would transform these daily imaginative sketches to paper. The shades, stitched to her body by blinks of the sun, were placed onto her shoulders, chest, lilac bones, the thighs, and her matte skin, as he wanted it to be. The resemblance of her face was too close to the original, and he gave her a baseball cap to shadow most of her face. Instead of a heavy kettle, he put into her hands a belt of his rifle, which was posing right there in a corner. Now the imaginative canvass of his picture ( in which she was holding his gun as a full blood horse, full of fire and an unstoppable energy) has been completed.

She was appearing from the white light, as a goddess of the sun. It seemed to him, that when the last stroke would be placed on the paper, she could have stepped down from this rolled paper; and with her bare feet, she will touch the floor in front of the artist. Kneeling, he spent a bit of time on her leg; even a throbbing vein on her ankle was pictured.

When the perfect embodiment of her had been achieved, and it became obvious that any slight change will only worsen the picture, he framed her with an inscription in English. Immediately this picture transformed into a poster that invites viewers to Shindand, to 302 flying squadron; and this strong willed woman, sunbathing and holding a AKS-7, seems to invite whoever you are – a boy, a man or an old man – to come here, and you will have no regrets!

Followed the admiring sighs and exclamations which filled the room, the artist hung the poster on the wall, over the old pictures from newspapers and magazines, pictures of trophy- weapons, mountain roads with steep curbs, helicopters on the ground and in the sky.

– She is an icon! – The first lieutenant Torgashov exhaled, raising his hands.   – She will be our guardian angel...

– I think, she is too thin. – The first lieutenant Losenkov pointed at her breasts.

– It is you, Losenkov, who is the bald-headed one! – Torgashov disagreed.   – She is gorgeous!

And everyone became involved into the hot dispute, and everyone expressed different opinions.

The artist took a cigarette and went outside. Whilst walking, he inhaled and exhaled the cigarette smoke. He was thinking about something; and after the artist reached the bathhouse, and he swam in the pool, he already knew what to do.

This poster he will present to her! Yes, it would be an unexpected move – he thought excitedly, quickly walking. It would be a surprise for her. The detailed options of how he will do it, he left for his bedtime, when he will be alone behind his closed eyelids.

A few days later, pilots visited the room, as they had heard about the beauty hanging on the wall. Each of them asked him to draw the same beauty for them, or may be even a smaller version of her. They promised to bring the new papers for drawings and new pencils, candies, soda, alcohol, and money. Even the Police Commissioner had been visiting the artist. The Police Commissioner stood silently for a moment, looking at the picture and when he was ready to leave the room, he asked to pull the picture down or at least cover it because tomorrow an inspection team from Kabul was expected. After him, the first lieutenant Taran came and standing on a stool, he commenced a real photo session of the poster with and without a flash.

Observing the growth of fame, the artist realized that the problem of presenting the gift will be resolved. Indeed, she would hear the spreading rumors and would visit his room, alone or with friends. A few women already had visited the room and asked to give the picture to them. Of course, the artist had refused. But if she will ask, he will remove the poster from the wall, and, turning gently, will give it to her silently. No, he should not do it in silence. He will say that it is still not completed and it will be best for him to finish it. Of course, he would not have a fixing spray, but she might. “What is it? ”  – She would ask, surprised. “Just hairspray”  – he would answer. And then the relationship would develop unstoppable, otherwise there was no sense to start it.

Days passed. Although the flight engineer did not notice any signs of her acknowledgement about his picture, or in the behavior of his model, he was not worried. He was waiting as an experienced hunter.

But fate delivered a curve that the first lieutenant F. did not expect.

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