Chief of Staff, Political Officer and a doctor knocked at the door and then entered the room.
— Here, I guess, we can definitely find something! — the Political Officer sniffed the air. — It stinks here!
— A jam soured — the board technician F. explained — In this heat even the brain tends to sour. By the way, we have been demanding the replacement of an air-conditioner for a long time. Doctor, how can you let us fly knowing that we don’t have proper conditions for a good rest — check yourself what temperature it is in this room…
— Okay, okay, — the Chief of Staff winced, — we do not need to speculate on the temporal difficulties. Tell me instead, where is your home-made alcohol?
— You can search, — with this suggestion the senior lieutenant F. sat on the bed.
The thorough search has been conducted with peeping under the beds and probing the pillows, but all of these gave a zero result. The superiors went away with nothing but promised to confiscate all illegal alcohol next time if it will be found. As soon as their steps in the hallway were no longer heard, the senior lieutenants F. rushed to the window. He opened the shutters and looked outside…The tank with the home-made vodka was not there.
— I do not get it! — the board technical F. said and looked around.
— Look! Over there they are! — and the board technician Losenkov pointed at two running figures. — They are getting away, bastards!
A board technical F. looked in the pointed direction and saw two soldiers dragging a heavy tank. They ran towards the different battalion.
The two angry board technicians easily caught the heavy loaded soldiers.
— Stop or I will shoot! — the board technician F. commanded and the soldiers immediately stopped, put the tank on the ground, and, wiping their sweaty faces with their sleeves, turned to the board technician F.
— Hey, you, two brats! — and the board technical F. ordered — Now you will both go back with the same speed. What kind of people you are, huh? Just no respect for somebody’s property, just grab everything that is not attended.
— Sorry but we had no idea that it is yours, the comrade Senior Lieutenant! — with guilty intonation one of the soldiers explained. — We were passing by and suddenly — Wow! — we saw this tank; and we took and carried it, honestly, comrade Senior Lieutenant, purely automatic!
On July 3, 1987, after two years, army service for the board-technician senior lieutenant has ended. The order for his two years army service (fall of 1985) was issued in the mainland of the Soviet Union. But this order works only if replacements arrive. Nevertheless, in the evening of this significant day, three officers decided to celebrate a formal ending of their service. The fried potatoes, opened tinned meat, expropriated alcohol from 24th brigade together with their own home-made beer, were placed on a table in their room. They ate, drank and had fun.
In an hour after midnight the door opened and the commander, wearing a protective helmet and holding a machine gun in his hands, entered the room.
— So, are we celebrating? — he asked. — Of course, it is a first priority now, but, in five minutes you two — the senior lieutenant F. and senior lieutenant Mukhametshin — should run to the choppers for hanging up “chandeliers”!
It means that our troops need light during a night battle. So, we had to fly to the place of battle and to set up LAB (light air bombs on parachutes — Editor).
— It is a bit surprising! — the senior lieutenant F perplexedly said. — This is absurd. I am a civilian now, even to say more — I am a drunk civilian! But for some reasons I have to fly to somewhere in a middle of the night to hang out the “chandeliers”! I hope it will be not a final point in my demobilization neither in my life. Felix, do you remember what the fortune teller told us in Chirchik about a late trip?
— If we will be back, — the only sober board technical Mukhametshin, (who is currently flying the chopper of Tarabrin who was on a vacation), answered with a stress on “if”. — I announce the strike from tomorrow! It is illegal!
And they walked out, asking to leave for them something to eat and drink when they will return.
They immediately became alerted that the pair of choppers had mixed crew: the leading board 33 was directed by the Squadron Commander, and the unit Commander was in charge of board No. 10. For sure, it was out of question about training to synchronize crew actions. Whispering, both commanders agreed about the altitude, speed distance, then went to their machines, and making spiral trajectories above the aerodrome, they took off.
Compared to night flights conducted in the Soviet Union, flights in Afghanistan were different: there was no on board lights, neither navigation lights, end lights, or flashing beacons. There was only one light that was invisible from the ground: a yellow droplet on the tail boom, that helped the wingman to see who are going right and above and where the leading chopper is.
So, the helicopters were spiraling above the aerodrome. Machines climbed up into the total darkness. Usually during spiraling, the commander of the leading helicopter should be observing the second one, but in this case it was total darkness and dangerous disorientations.
When altitude of two thousand metres was reached, the leading helicopter said:
— 532, I do not see you. Report the height.
— Two thousand metres, 851th.
— It is odd. Let’s blink our headlights to each other and define our positions. Let’s do it on the count of three. One, two, three…and both machines momentarily turned their flashing lights on — and each of the crew saw a red light straight ahead!
The helicopters were moving towards each other face-to-face in a direct line. An unavoidable collision with each other was a matter of few seconds away; and then both commanders with a perfect synchronization simultaneously swore and moved the choppers apart.
— Let’s go to work, — the commander of the leading chopper said. — Let’s hit the road. And climb a bit higher…
And they started working.
Thinking of how close they were to a collision, the board technician, felt, how his little shrunk heart has been lost in a black space of his chest. His feet were wet and cold. “If we will get back, — the board technician said to God, — then I will believe in you. I understand that you sent me here on the day when my discharge order arrived, for a very special reason. I do admire your sense of humor. Okay, I believe in you now. Now please take us back, before we lose any neophyte…”.
They reached the battle location, connected with the land, adjusted their course, height, and went into the battle by sending light-bombs down one by one. Below, hanging on parachutes, two blue suns flared up and filled the earth with their lifeless light.
Waiting for the bombs to go off, the pair of choppers made another circle, and released the remaining light-bombs.
— Now we have to wait until it will burn to the end, — the crew commander said. — We will be in a light zone and they will shoot us — we will be on display like under the brightness of the moon! Hey, look where we are now — maybe we should go another way?
— Wait, I will grab a flashlight, — the navigator-operator replied, looking for the flashlight in his bag.
— Are you mad or what, what is the hell with you and the flashlight?
The navigator-operator looked on the pale ground, bent over a map spread out on his knees and struck a match. The light of his match flashed in the dark cabin like a torch.