Walking through my city, I stopped at an old shop with a wide window display, which reflected everything like a mirror. When I was a little boy, I often passed by that shop, because I liked the way my reflection would follow me as I walked. A thousand times, growing up, I stood there frozen as if under a spell, studying the details of real life reflected in that window; it was nice to observe things in reverse, as though I wasn’t really able to perceive their true character when I saw them in their actual dimension. I even went to the shop at night. I would sit down in front of the window and watch the reflection of the stars at the top. They seemed so close it took my breath away.
And now there I was again, at that window. I looked at myself and in just a few seconds I knew that I was going crazy. I don’t know how it happened, but suddenly my thoughts became fluid and clear – there was no longer anything stopping them, no obstacles. I observed how I was dressed and I reflected on how I had spent the last few months, as if before, as I was living my life, I hadn’t been able to think. I had the impression that someone had stolen time from me, manipulated my life and reduced me to a zombie. An unpleasant sensation, but powerful and liberating, and it pushed me to start over again…
At the end of that week I was on the train. I was going to my grandfather Nikolay’s home in Siberia. I had a backpack filled with heavy clothes, along with the essential equipment for the woods: a rifle and ammunition.
As the train rattled along, the immense landscapes of Russia flashed by. I imagined the life that awaited me in the forest: my grandfather’s house on the lake, the smell of the wood, the purr of the lazy cat, a pack of dogs who looked like wolves, the dry trees to cut down, their logs stored in the woodshed in preparation for the winter; the days of hunting and walks in the taiga, the game prepared by Grandfather, the evening chats in front of the wood stove fire, the sauna full of boiling steam and the sharp scent that burned your lungs inside, like fire…
The closer I got to Siberia, the more I felt like I was a part of the land. It was as if it were calling out to welcome me, to help me get past all my troubles, to give me strength. I knew that I was going home, to the place where I belonged and where I would be able to find peace.
It was a reawakening, a moment of connection with the real that makes you want to get out of bed, to do something with your day, to live.
Like jumping out of an airplane in flight, and savouring the free fall before you open the parachute.
I found out from some friends in the army that Captain Nosov and Moscow fell in battle – a few months after my discharge – in a mountain area between Chechnya and Dagestan. They had gone on reconnaissance and found themselves surrounded by a large group of terrorists.
The infantry night explorers who went to recover the dead that day said that Nosov’s and Moscow’s bodies had been mined. Evidently one of the two, before he died, hadn’t wanted to give the enemy the chance to commit dishonourable acts on their remains.
I visited their grave, in the military cemetery of the city of M—. According to army tradition, friends who have fallen together are buried together.
Shoe was wounded, but not seriously, a few months after my discharge. Nobody knows how, but he was able to get into the secret service and over time has climbed the ladder in the FSB. Our paths have crossed many times; we have remained good friends.
Zenith decided to stay on contract. I didn’t know much about his whereabouts; once in a while I would hear some story from mutual friends in the army who had run into him during a mission. He also went into the counter-terrorist wing of the FSB, the secret service.
Last spring, as I was beginning to write this book, I found out that he was killed during a counter-terrorist operation in a small town in Dagestan. Nobody could tell me anything about his death, only the place where he was buried.
I lost track of Deer. Some say that after getting discharged he went to live in southern Siberia, where he got married and works in the forest service.
Spoon is still part of the saboteur unit today. He was wounded twice, earned a few medals and, as far as I’ve been told, provoked the ire of a powerful general after courting his young wife.
A few years ago I came across him by chance while surfing on the internet, on a recorded television show about the war in Chechnya – he recounted the details of one of our missions. It struck me that he was losing his hair; he was almost bald. Then I realised that we were exactly alike.
PRAISE FOR NICOLAI LILIN AND SIBERIAN EDUCATION
‘Force yourself to forget about categories of good and evil, you have to just be there and read… produces a thrill of pleasure that is hard to forget.’
‘A marvellous and illuminating book… This story makes most of what we call true-crime writing seem insipid and effete.’
About the Author
NICOLAI LILIN is a Russian writer of Siberian descent. He was born in 1980 in the USSR and grew up in Transnistria, a small state that declared its independence in 1990. He was conscripted to the Russian military, and was involved in anti-terrorist operations in Chechnya. Once his military service ended, he worked for various private security agencies as an anti-terrorism consultant before leaving military life to travel in various European countries, including Ireland. He settled in Italy, and founded an arts centre in Milan dedicated to the tradition and design of Siberian tattoos. His first book, Siberian Education (also published by Text), was a major bestseller in Italy and was published in English to critical acclaim.
Copyright
The Text Publishing Company
Swann House
22 William St
Melbourne Victoria 3000
Australia
Copyright © Nicolai Lilin 2010
Translation copyright © Jamie Richards 2011
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright above, no part of this publication shall be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
First published in Italy as Caduta libera in 2010 by
Giulio Einaudi editore, s.p.a., Torino
First published in Great Britain in 2011 by
Canongate Books Ltd, Edinburgh
This edition published in 2011 by The Text Publishing Company
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Author: Lilin, Nicolai, 1980-
Title: Free fall : a sniper’s story / Nicolai Lilin.
Edition: 1st ed.
ISBN: 9781921758409 (pbk.)
Subjects: Lilin, Nicolai, 1980-. Snipers—Russia—Chechnia—Biography. Special Forces (Military science)—Russia—Chechnia—History. Chechnia (Russia)—History—Civil War, 1994-1996.