Contract Servicemen Storm Kostroma

The strained tales of propagandists may only image them as the army.

Why do we keep talking about all sorts of unexpectedly mobilized people? The strength and glory of the second-best army in the world has always rested on contractors. At least until the moment when it suddenly proved to be second from the bottom. The day of victory will show who rests on the bottom. This rule is strict. It has always been like that. No one will make an exception for a sassy loser from a concrete bunker. Why should one?

He's up to something barbaric, savage. He's assembled a horde. The strained tales of propagandists may only image them as the army. The national television serves it in the evening as a lullaby across the country. But it doesn't help either. Everyone has seen the video made at the firing ground outside Moscow, where all of these mobilized men (mobiks) suddenly revolted. An angry crowd encircled officers and started swearing at the officer in charge, Lieutenant Colonel, as if the country was back to the Chapayev times. When their simple questions faced the same tried-and-true answer that one could not provide them even with essentials, and, therefore, they had simply to tolerate and follow obediently into the combat zone, the pacificator simply received a bulletproof vest that could be pierced even by an ordinary nail, and was asked to go to hell.

The general visited the polygon near Kazan with the same contingent in a tent camp. People had no water or firewood in bitterly cold weather and, in addition, no hot meals. The angry crowd simply dragged him out of the officers' tent and kicked him out. He was also offered to go to hell. Those who did that were mobiks. Despite the heavy losses, however, the bunker warlords still had other troops.

So, contractors. They're not always on the front lines. There are sudden pauses even in this fierce and extremely strange war. It is neither by the goodwill of their superiors nor as a reward for diligence. Sergeant Stasik Ionin, a grenade launcher operator and a contract serviceman, who was on duty near Luhansk and Kherson, was suddenly struck late in September. As a result, both legs were wounded and, above all, he was shell-shocked. Then followed the common story - hospital, rehabilitation and even a meeting with the family.

There is a town with delicate name Asbest in the Sverdlovsk region. His wife and child, parents live there. Little Stasik was born there twenty-three years ago. The boy was quick-witted, smart. He was surprisingly well-mannered. He used to always give way to grown-ups on narrow paths in the yard. He turned out to be a defender of his aggrieved Motherland. The neighbors doted on him. They could not even express their endless gratitude for such a lucky life choice. It was too late. The brave warrior received a notice and left his native city in a hurry. After the injury, he had to go to his unit in Kostroma. He underwent a psychiatric examination to determine whether he is eligible for further military service.

Here he fell into a trap. The barracks was full of poor things like him. And everyone was waiting. And there was no examination at all. And nobody knew anything about it. There was no intent. It was just a common mess in the era of the great Putin. The country got used to it. It didn't bother many people. No one needed servicemen in Kostroma. They were on the gad. They drank cheap alcohol and patiently waited for something.

In the meantime, Sergeant Stasik learned that an ordinary canteen nearby would be open until five o'clock in the morning in honor of the coming National Unity Day. Why not hang out? One cannot die of boredom and obscurity in a boring barracks. Is there anything to think about? Just put a rocket launcher, nicknamed "hunter's signal", into a pocket and set a clear course for the place, called Poligon.

He passed the face control without a hitch. The place was already overcrowded. There seemed to be a hundred or two and a half people in the place. The sociable guy blended in easily. He took a drink. He found a girl. He began to dance. But then someone pushed him. Then someone touched his dancing partner. Failing to meet the proper attitude to his status of a defender of the Motherland, Stasik couldn't stand it and hit the offender. The latter retaliated. The others joined a mess.

Then the contract serviceman took out a rocket launcher and shot straight up into the ceiling. The women screamed. It was like the rocket was stuck to the ceiling. The plastic lining of the place burst into flames. It was not easy for so many people to get out of there, especially through the turnstile. According to various reports, the death toll was somewhere between thirteen and fifteen people. The funeral day was scheduled for the same spiritually-raising day of National Unity. The owner of the place is a regional Duma deputy from the United Russia Party. Thanks to the efforts of the leader and the city fathers patriotism both in the country and Kostroma hits the ceiling.

They still believe that everything will be fine. The angry chmobiks will scream, rebel, and calm down. New waves of mobilized people will meekly replace the exhausted and discouraged entrenched troops. Undeclared war, which has no end, will continue. In such a war, the most important thing for its plotters is not to take any city or simply to advance. The most important thing is to make a nuisance of their neighbors, near and far. For everyone to remember and fear. And it does not matter what atrocities and savagery people will have to endure, how many people will die or be injured. No change should come.

Such a war would certainly expand, to imperceptibly grow into a world one. Given the current opportunities, it is only a matter of time. Already the first news has reached Poland. During the previously unprecedented rocket attacks on Ukrainian cities, explosions have already erupted in the neighboring territory of the Lublin Voivodeship. In the village of Przewodów, not far from the border, two local residents died because they were processing grain from this year's harvest. A special commission is already working. Experts are trying to establish who should be held responsible. Of course, their conclusion will not take long. But will it make things easier?

The same damnable question has already risen from our not-so-distant past, from the suddenly thickened darkness.

Is Przewodów not yet Gliwice?

Uladzimir Khalip, specially for Charter97.org

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