“Sergeant, why aren’t you saying anything?” the embittered Sluggish persisted.
“It seems to me that they’re only shooting from our side,” the Sergeant said.
Sluggish listened.
“So what?” he asked.
“It means they’re shooting to frighten rather than exchanging gunfire. Perhaps over there, in the forest, there aren’t any Chechens. And the closer we get to the base…” the Sergeant breathed in some air, which was constantly in short supply — “the more chances we have… to get shot by our own people. You understand? And we’re also about to run into our own tripwires. We could be blown up by them,” he explained it all as if to a child.
Sluggish looked at him with mistrust.
“So what?” Sluggish asked again.
“Observe, observe, guys,” the Sergeant said to the soldiers looking at them. “Or they might crawl out of somewhere…” and only then did he look at Sluggish. “We’ll go towards the road. There are no tripwires by the road. And we can get a good look at the base from there. As long as they don’t see us first.”
They moved diagonally, away from the base: to the place where the road came through.
…The woodland came to an end, and open terrain began.
They squatted down, getting their breath back. They listened as the shooting started again. From here it was again unclear how they were shooting, who was shooting, and in what direction.
If only we had the radios… We’re running around here… the Sergeant thought sadly, glancing sideways at Vitka, who seemed to understand the look, and turned away.
The Sergeant took out the binoculars and looked at the now visible road.
Our jeep probably drove past not long ago…
Now, if we can get to that left turn, the Sergeant realized — then we will be able to see the base. We can see everything lying on the bank. But if someone drives past on the road… That will be stupid. There’s nowhere to run.
Two of us will go, the Sergeant decided. With Sluggish? I’d take Ridge, but he has the grenade launcher. He’ll be able to blow up any car from here… And Sluggish will instantly throw himself into an attack… I can’t take Ginger. And I won’t take Vitka either. And Samara is too young.
“Let’s go, Sluggish,” he said. “Guys, cover us if necessary… Ridge, you’re in charge. If you see a car with bearded guys stopping near us — shoot immediately. Aim well. Your shot will save us. If you hit them… And the rest can support you.”
They could have crawled to the road, but this seemed completely humiliating.
So they ran, bending and grabbing the air with their clutching hands.
What idiocy, the Sergeant thought. We’re running like… Like idiots… We’ll get to the road, and those bastards… will come to meet us… in their car… ‘What’s the hurry, soldiers?’ they’ll ask. And we’ll turn around and run back…
They made their way over the stones and ruts, almost breaking their legs… They ran across the road that they had driven along just yesterday, so free and calm, with their elbows out the window, and their sweaty faces grinning… There was the track from the wheels, dusty…
They slid down the bank on their backsides. They crawled to the turn.
Well then, base… How are you, base?… the Sergeant thought, listening. We’ll take a look, and see a black flag hanging there…
What’s going on in my country, he thought fleetingly. Why am I crawling across it… not walking…
There was the base. It stood at an angle to them. Two gloomy floors, and sacks over the windows. Nothing could be seen. No one was storming it, at least. There weren’t any ladders against the building, no one was climbing in.
The Sergeant looked for a long time, squinting, and stupidly hoping that he would see someone’s arm waving from the gun slit, or even a face, and everything would immediately become clear.
Then he took the binoculars, and pressed his face into them.
The base was impenetrable.
“What’s going on there?” Sluggish said, unable to wait.
“Nothing,” the Sergeant replied, and gave the binoculars to Sluggish: he wouldn’t have believed anyway that there was nothing there.
Sluggish looked for a long time, and the Sergeant began to get tired of this: they should be returning to the wood, and thinking what to do next.
He felt thirsty.
He took out his flask and had a gulp.
Sluggish crawled off somewhere. The Sergeant looked after him sullenly, not calling out.
Pouring dust over his black beret, Sluggish raised himself up high, but did not look at the base, but somewhere to the side.
Again, the angry firing began — they were shooting from another side of the base that they could not see. From this side, there was nothing to shoot at anyway, apart from the road and the trees. From the base to the woodland there were three hundred meters of empty land and sand, and this was all in the line of fire.
But from the other side of the base, there were hills and some abandoned buildings, stables or cattle sheds. There were places where the bearded men could hide.
“I can see the jeep,” Sluggish said, returning: his face was dirty, but dry, not sweaty — the Sergeant was surprised by this.
“Where?”
“Sticking out behind those buildings. They must have taken a detour to get here. Around the base. They didn’t take this road. So our guys wouldn’t shoot at them.”
On the one hand, we need the jeep: it has a radio, the Sergeant thought. On the other hand, the bearded men already have our walkie-talkies… And they know the wavelength. After all, they disarmed the guys who were coming to relieve us… Or killed them already… Let’s not think about that, no need. No one was killed. Everyone’s alive… What was I thinking about?
“Sluggish, why do we need that jeep?” the Sergeant asked aloud, to avoid thinking.
“You don’t need any fucking thing at all,” Sluggish replied, licking white dust off his lips.
“I don’t. You do. That’s why I’m asking you: why?”
“It has the radio.”
“I’ve already thought of that. The Chechens are probably using it already, on our wavelength. What are we going to say to that radio: hello, brothers, we’re in the woods? Someone come and get us!”
“Is it better to sit here in the dust?” Sluggish asked. “Without any food?”
The Sergeant was silent briefly.
“Let’s go into the wood,” he said. “And in the evening, we’ll go to the buildings. When it gets dark.”
The Sergeant lay on the grass.
His whole body languished and ached from the inescapable feeling that there were other human animals in this forest, and that they could come here.
But there was nowhere to hide.
And nothing to think about.
Because any thought led to the fact that they could be killed today…
This was all so… stupid. As it turned out, that was the only way everything looked — stupid: at a time when something was reaching out for his very throat.
The Sergeant remembered how he had called his mother when he came here. His mother didn’t even know that he was here: he didn’t tell her when he left, he deceived her. And here he heard her voice in the receiver:
“I’ll kill you, son, what are you doing!” she said.
The Sergeant even smiled: her words sounded so foolish, so good-natured, and therefore even more pitiful.
His mother herself was scared by her own I’ll kill you: it was quite a common word at home, that was often uttered in a fit of temper, when as a child he broke something, or got up to mischief. But now this word took on a new meaning, terrifying to his mother.