In my family, it has always been considered an honour to serve in the army. Grandfather enlisted for the Polish, Finnish, World War II; he was an officer and had military awards. I myself believe that a man is obliged to learn what military service is, war firsthand. When the war in the Donbass began, I realised that I had to go. It's time to restore what was lost in the 90s. Volunteers from all over Russia and elsewhere, went there. They do not need military enlistment offices and the consent of relatives to be motivated.
In the very first days of the war, you begin to understand that the motivations that pushed you to war are forever in the past: enthusiasm, patriotism and other lofty concepts are knocked as the first shells fall. After that, you either start living in a war, or you need to leave.
I remember one night when there was shelling in the Donbass. Mortars are hitting our positions. Short flight..... Flight..... Bang - covered! I'm running to see if everyone is alive. We exchange impressions. We shoot back. In short, life goes on.
I'm going to the dugout for ammunition. And there's a fighter sitting there, squeezed into a corner, shaking.
- What are you doing?
"It's scary," he replies.
- "So you're sitting in the dark, so you're scared. And you go upstairs, look around. Talk to the people. It will be more fun."
- "They'll kill you there."
- "That's where they'll kill you for sure. Because you're alone and you're shaking with fear."
Then this guy ended up fighting well, he was even awarded the St. George Cross for bravery.
In general then, the positions were full of real men, who, if they were scared, did not show a sign of it. The brave one is the one who only knows that he is afraid.
The excitement of a dangerous game passes quickly - it's worth seeing the first death.
We've got a guy injured. The four of us carried him on a raincoat tent to the ambulance. The doctor looked and said:
"It's too late. He's already dying."
I didn't believe it: the guy had just been alive! I look into his eyes, a light flared up in them and he began to fade. And suddenly I felt that not his, but my body was filling with cold... words cannot convey what I experienced.
This moment lasted. Then I seemed to come out of the depths. All at once it drenched me: sounds, smells... "This is war. They kill here," flashed across my mind and will remain there forever.
Back in Abkhazia, I was convinced that the difference between a conscript soldier, a local militia member and a volunteer is enormous.
The first just pulls up his straps, the second was in the war by the will of fate, and the third got into it consciously. There were cases when hundreds of militia withdrew from the position and fled to the rear, barely hearing the shooting. And then their places were taken by volunteers. Fifteen men held the line where a hundred should have stood. Not because we're supermen and we weren't scared. Just a volunteer is an internally different person. He is not fleeing from the war, he is not being sent there. He came to the war by his own accord.
There was another war in Serbia. But even there, the difference between volunteers and locals was felt immediately. When we arrived at our positions, the Serbs roared: "Everyone, the Russians have arrived, now they will start the war for real!"
It's hard to get used to war. It's even harder to get back from it. Consciousness cannot withstand a sudden transition from one world to another. But I never understood this veteran's anguish.
I respect the guys who fought, I sympathise.
But when I see someone beating his chest and yelling: "I fought!" - I already cringe. Our grandfathers spent four years in the most terrible war. We saw things that we never dreamed of. Ask those who fought in the infantry or in intelligence, how many Krauts they wasted? They will never tell. And now I know for sure: they had to cut, and they shot at point-blank range. If the veterans of that war are silent, then why should we vote.
Transnistria, Serbia, Abkhazia... now Donbass. A volunteer is a volunteer everywhere. He has a different psychological attitude. He doesn't blame anyone for being in the war. Sometimes the thought comes: "What am I doing here?" And then you keep doing your job. The one that no one will do for you. And you say:
"This is my business."