Samy
All of us are fatalists when it comes to others.
For many years, I have been carrying a heavy stone weighing upon my heart. Nobody reproaches me, but self-judgment is often merciless compared to a civic court. It is a common mistake to think that we have a power over our fate, or over someone else’s destiny particularly…
At the central outpost in Rustam Kalay, where our battalion was located, a soldier Sergeant Samenenko carried out his military service. He was a responsible, conscientious, neat chap from Eastern Ukraine. For his neatness, officers from headquarter appointed him to bring our food from a kitchen, to slice our bread, to open canned goods, and to make some tea. He was doing this job for several months. He could enter our headquarters at any time, and we were openly talking in his presence without hiding anything. He even was in charge of our personal goods that we got from a small military-run shop. Of course, he was regularly checked for cleanliness and also his secrecy. For several times, he gave us not only food, but finger food to accompany our vodka, and he proved his trustworthiness to us. So, he was a trusted person.
He was excused from guard duties, but he knew his combat responsibilities and attended classes and training in the mountains. He was not looking for a bravery medal nor was he playing chicken. An absolutely normal and reliable soldier named Semyon, or Samy, as his fellow soldiers and officers from the Communication battalion called him. We thought that it was his real mane. Newcomers also assumed the same. Anyway, Samy had a cheerful personality: when he entered a room, he cheered up everyone. The battalion commander often met him with one humoristic line citing the famous Rosenbaum’s: “Semyon, lets put it under her…” I do not remember that Samy had ever been scolded.
However, one day something incredible happened — Semyon got drunk! He was staggering through our outpost answering “Fuck you all” to any question or comment. It was a real scene!
Occasionally, from time to time, we had some soldiers who got drunk and tough rules were applied on the spot. Those who were caught for heavy drinking, received a hard but easily understanding treatment to make sure that this misbehavior will be wiped out not only in a soldier-in trouble, but also in others who considered to do it. The inventive pack of treatment included a heavy rack-sack packed up with stones, marching up and down in the mountains and icy spring water. All of this activity would definitely ruin the appetite to misbehave again. Knowing consequences, every soldier accepted the punishment without complains. Perhaps, also Samy has prepared himself for the hard treatment. I cannot recall to whom this idea came first, but officers decided to punish him according to the army statute: arrest — sending him to the headquarter’s army prison, and detained him in guba (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor).
— He is a good chap, he will get his treatment tomorrow and everything will be back to normal, — Viktor Lazarenko, Chief Technical Assistant, said.
— There is no sense to take him to Kabul, will arrest him here, let him sit for a week — he will get wiser, — Company Commander suggested.
— This is a not good decision, what other soldiers will say? He was trusted more than others, so his punishment should be more severe. And forget about cages, it will not happen under my rule, — Battalion Political Officer gave his point of view.
— You are correct. A whole battalion is watching what we are going to do, including officers, who want to know how we will deal with the soldier — confidante. By the way, comrade Captain, you also should deal with the sergeant who brewed this alcohol. Tell him, If he wants to put a home brew on our table, he should hide it better from soldiers.
— He hides from others, but this is our Samy…
— To get rid of this home brew, let Samy sleep it off. Tomorrow, in front of the battalion, I will arrest him and with a “yellow ticket” will send him to a headquarters’ Glasshouse.
This is how Battalion Commander summed up decisions and thus ended our discussion.
The next day I saw Samy was stitching the authorized tag of imprisonment to his uniform, without which he might not be accepted to the headquarter prison located in Kabul. He was guiltily hiding his eyes, avoiding looking at anyone. His drooping shoulders, depressing posture — all was saying: “I am guilty, it is better to punish me here. Let me do marching through the mountains, but do not disgrace me — I am no worse than others!” My heart sank. I had never seen such deep and sincere repentant soldier.
— Are you getting ready?
— Yes, Sir!
He looked up and I saw in his eyes, a fear as if he was sentenced to death. I wanted to crack a meaningful joke about cleaning in the headquarter prison, but restrained myself, turned and walked away. After all, he should talk to Battalion Commander, who can turn back his fate, because Battalion Commander knew — Samy might be an idiot, but not a scoundrel. Yes, Battalion Commander, Gennady Ocheretyany, knew it as well, but some small military-bureaucratic machine began to twirl, and no one could stop it.
Who took Samy to the headquarter prison, I do not remember. A week later I was again talking to him. He looked like a beaten dog, an emaciated and haggard soldier who stood next to his dear APC (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor) and did not want to leave it for a single moment, although there was a lot of time before signing off from the army…no need to show off…
I do not know what kind of slip up happened among officers-in-charge, but a regimental ceremony that nominated awards for our officers and soldiers, has been postponed. Senior Lieutenant S., whose name was on the list of the ceremony, suggested:
— Comrade Major, due to the spare time in this moment, allow me to proceed with the urgent submission of two soldiers’ characteristics to the Communist Party Committee that is located at the nearest outpost. (Before to be considered for Communist Party membership, the candidates have to submit their characteristics. — Editor).
— Why you did submit them before?
— Nobody told me to do so. Since the ceremony has been postponed for two hours, I will be back in thirty minutes! With your permission, lunch could be taken then too…
— Okay, proceed. But do not be late…
— Could I go too? — Samy asked.
I noticed how unbearably it was for him to be here, not far from the place of his punishment, and the civilian “could” in his question also unpleasantly scratched my ear. All of this was evident that the guy was not himself. Instead of answering, I simply waved him off with my hand. This outpost was within the suburbia line of a town, with a bitumen road of ten minutes driving each way. Although the road is very old, the day is clear. What could happen? Let him blow the cobwebs…
But a war is a war and anything could happen… and the next thing that did happen was an ambush… Classic and contemporary themes of the unexpected.
In the beginning of our trip we drove impressively in style. We had the mood of celebration because it was not every day that Orders-for-Bravery were handed out! Our hands were off the weapons. The radio communication was not on. A gun fired suddenly from some cliffs overhanging above the road. Everyone who was sitting on the APC, or “the armor ”, dropped down into the hatches, frantically grabbing their weapons and checking themselves for wounds. Speeding fast, the APC missed a turn, behind which a man with a grenade launcher was kneeling. But nobody could fire at him — everyone was inside of the APC!