So, we — four secret service agents-looters — are coming to the mountains and valleys, for hunting. Eventually, we found a large field, full of melons — gorgeous, juicy, sweet, savory melons. But as experienced soldiers, at first, we observed the area for any potential military action, to be sure not to be running into the real enemy and get a good portion of lead instead of melons. There had been, you know, some precedents before and, we learnt our lessons. We did not find any insidious mujahedeen, except an old man who was guarding this field. We did not consider him to be an enemy. We waved hello to the grandpa and began our first round of eating, then started gathering the melons into a ground sheet. The grandpa expressed his presence in a voice and we waved back to him. After this, we did not pay any attention to him. We picked up all melons in the ground sheet and we were ready to depart back home, when in the climax of our operation, we heard an unexpected gun shot… We didn’t hear the rumble of the gunfire, but the shot whizzed dangerously close.
Together we formed a chain and grabbed our weapons to repel the attack. We looked at the grandpa, who was trying to recharge his old smooth-bore, single-trigger gun. We rushed to this bogeyman, expropriated his gun, but what to do next with him, we had no idea.
No matter what kind of gossip is going about us, no matter who are telling this gossip, I can assure — we never touched women, children or the elderly. So, we were standing and looking at the grandpa and did not know whether to laugh or to cry, we could not shoot him, or to punish the old man. The man was ashamed, he was not able to understand our words. But, on the other hand, he was able to kill us with that gun. We took his gun, and showed a fist to him. He did not get scared and shook his two fists back to us.
For a whole week, whilst blocking the gorge, solders were continuously consuming melons growing on this field. At night paratroopers-eagles descended to the village to steal hens as well.
Although mujahedeens were not detected, villagers came to our commander with a complaint regarding our actions ; the familiar grandpa was a member of that delegation. By pointing at me with his dirty finger, he confidently identified me — here is the criminal! Of course, the commander promised to follow up with a decent punishment, forgetting that he himself enjoyed these melons and roasted chicken.
We apologized to the civilians (such things did happen), the grandpa’s ancient antique gun was returned, and our travel ration was presented to Afghans as compensation for their inconvenience and moral damage. They accepted it with gratitude.
I would forget about this ordinary case, but, in a day after our return, my buddy from a signal support company ran into our tent.
— Hey, you! Russian commandos! “Occupant”! Come to our tent at 8 PM. — he invited me through laughter.
— What for?
— You will listen to the news. It will be repeated at 8. Come and you will not regret it.
The subdivision’s signal company had powerful radio transmission facilities, which were used by our signal operators for entertainment in any possible way. Good music was transmitted by “Voice of America”, for the “corrupted” Soviet young souls before and after the news. This is why guys were sometimes listening to this station.
At 8 pm I was in the van of the signal company. The radio transmitter was on and after the music, the news started. In his Russian with a tiny hint of an English-speaking accent, the announcer vividly described the amenities and pleasures of the “free world”, the human rights abuse in USSR (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor), and, in the end, commented on a current situation in Afghanistan. Further, I present the message below, as I recalled, with little notes and comments in the course of the text.
“Self-Defense units in the village of the province of **** **** Afghanistan ****…” — Hm, it is definitely about us: the name of the place and time coincided. — “put up a fierce resistance to Russian Army’s force”. — Ha! The announcer is telling of the incident with an old grandpa and his shot from his ancient gun. — “Despite the overwhelming superiority in numbers and weapons, the Soviet occupants were unable to defeat the brave patriots of Afghanistan. In such a situation…” — and here some dramatic tones were added by the news reader to his voice — “…Russian commandos used a bacteriological weapon against the civilian population”. — You bet! The canned “Pollock-in-oil” with an expired date could easily be passed as a bacteriological weapon. — “Residents of the village *** suffered a terrible disease.” — Do not worry! After eating this canned fish, we also suffered from diarrhea; in three days the civilians will be all right. — “Volunteers from the Red Cross…” — During my entire military service I never saw any volunteer — “…provided necessary medical care to the people. This can prove again that…”
Rolling thunder of laughter did not give us a chance to listen to the end of the news, so I never found out what it proves…
— They are something! — said my mate after finishing his laughing. They can cook up such outstanding lies, but somebody will bite at it as the truth.
— It is a pity that our superiors did not hear this news. — I sadly said, — Apparently our food nutrition is considered to be a biological weapon to other people.
It was unclear, whether our officers have heard this program or it was just a coincidence, but we were given canned buckwheat porridge with meat after this program — quite decent food — and we no longer shared our travel rations with the Afghanis.
Thank you, “Voice of America”! Thank you for improving food nutrition for the Soviet “invaders”!
Thank you, “Voice of America”! Nowadays, as soon as I heard the beginning of your program, I start laughing and recall the melon field, the old grandpa, “the fatal shot”, and tins of “Pollock-in-oil”.
Thank you, “Voice of America”! Thank you for helping me to understand at my young age that your “free world” lied just brazenly and shamelessly, as the Soviet Union did.
Igor Frolov
Frolov, Igor Alexandrovich, was born in Aldan (Yakutia). He graduated from the Ufa Aviation Institute in 1987 and served in the Soviet Army as officer (Mi-8 flight engineer) at Far East and Afghanistan. After he left army, he worked as a guard, janitor, mechanic, massage therapist, journalist and coordinator of the literary festival “Burning Mountain”. His book “Logbook 57-22-10” was published by Exmo Publishing House in 2007, by Vagant Publishing House in 2010, and Tsentpoligraf Publishing House in 2015. He is also actively publishing in various journals his works. He is a member of the Union of Writers and the Union of Journalists of Russian Federation. Currently he lives in Ufa. He is married, and has a son.
Logbook N 57-22-10
(The Novel in Chapters)
This is a story of the life and incredible adventures of Senior Lieutenant F., a flight engineer-gunner of the helicopter MI-8, who together with his friends completed ten months of his air force military service in Afghanistan during 1985–87, written by himself.
As an epigraph to this story, a description of several aerial photos were downloaded from the Internet and will be provided below.
In front of me, there are two photos taken by Americans in 2001 during the operation of American troops in Afghanistan. The first photo is titled “Shindand airfield: prior the strike” and the second one — “Shindand airfield: after the strike”. White arrows indicate numerous holes that are visible in runways and taxiways. The Shindand airfield was heavily bombed in order to destroy one of the many bases of Taliban.