I look out the window. On the sun-scorched earth, at the edge of the helicopter pad, five or seven people were sitting and squatting. Among them, Mishka with a bottle of vodka in one hand is hugging some officer. My heart popped: “Is he my replacement?”
I jumped to the ground:
— Mishka, what are you doing here?
— Ha! He is asking! Dance, dear: he is your RE-PLA-CE-MENT! — and he nodded at the officer. — I’m taking him from the army headquarters to your post! All documents for conducting the substitution is sealed in this envelope! — and he shows me a large white bag sealed with wax.
No-no-no! It must be mistake! This is not the way how it should happen! I pictured this epochal moment very differently: more exalted, more intelligent. And here — right in your face: “Change”!
My substitute is a senior lieutenant, puny compared to me. He stands up and with a foolish smile of a newcomer and reports:
— Senior Lieutenant Yunusov, 11th Brigade.
I stood up like a statue and just looked at him, hardly believing that this day has actually arrived. Now, I am just like him, smiling silly:
— Sorry, what brigade?
— Eleventh. Mogochinskaya, Transbaikalian Military District.
-What? — I gave Mishka a puzzled look.
— Sanya, this is all a mess and bullshit, but it does not matter, the main thing here is your replacement, and you will get transferred to the Odessa district next time… — Mishka replied to my unspoken question.
He knew that I wrote a report addressed to the Commander of TurkVO, in which I expressed my desire to continue my international duty in Afghanistan until I will be returned to Odessa, the place where I was signed up. Transbaikalian Military District is the place that we translated as “Forgot to return to civilisation”. It is my worst nightmare!
— In an hour we will be heading back, to Gardez. — the voice of the chopper’s commander returned me to reality.
Returning means returning.
Vodka should not be wasted. Give me a sip, for the joy of this sudden happiness.
Hiding from the severe heat of the sun, we went under the shade of the helicopter and placed the jacket of the newly-baked-international officer on the ground.
— Here you do not need a parade uniform for official presentation to the senior officer, there is no parade here. You can present yourself even wearing a singlet, — Mishka with a laughed invited us to drink with him — Let’s have a look for snacks we can have with vodka!
Some food was stored in my bag, Mishka found some, and my replacement Yunusov took out his food ration.
— Hey, pal! — I said to the pilot resting under the tent. — Come on, joint us, but bring the glass with you together with a bottle. I will pay for this bottle with my cheque.
The pilot was experienced, he understood everything immediately and disappeared without a word inside his helicopter, and after a minute he joined us on an improvised table on which was a bottle of vodka accompanied by a “gentleman’s set” — three onions, a can of stew, and half a loaf of bread.
— Guys! — he says, — I will not take your money for the bottle. This bottle is my present to you because you were waiting for this day for so long! We are alive and healthy. Let’s drink to it and for returning home! Cheers!
Following the tradition to have a small break between the first and the second drinks, we speedily rose our mugs for the third time. And at this time the choppers’ crew commander loomed on the horizon. We also invited him for a quick symbolic drink, — it was too hot.
Our flight back seemed shorter and took less than half an hour.
After landing I went directly to the headquarters to register the newcomer, and after that I will organise my documents for the replacement. The first thing is to inform my team, then to report to the battalion commander.
I reported to major K. that everything is in order. I said that tomorrow our group is scheduled for a planned march that includes three APC (armoured personnel carriers — Editor) with their crews. Dimych will be the leader of this column. That is all. If we will be alert and quick, we will reach Barak Station in no time… and all together. By the way, during this march we can see how good my new replacement is.
And then I began organising my replacement documents. I do not know anyone at the administration, they are all new officers but they are all diligently sitting at their chairs. It is a positive sight, because the old ones I could chase for days. These new once are still unspoiled.
When I was transferring my document, the deputy head of the party committee looks at me so closely.
— You are from Barak Station — and have no punishments? — he addressed the question to me.
— How is it possible to have no penalty on file? In my service record, I have a “Severe Punishment” that was issued to me by the battalion commander for harsh treatment of the captured prisoners. — I answered.
— I am not referring to your service. I am talking about the discipline in your battalion. Internal affairs of your battalion is disgusting, They engage in binge drinking for weeks. We got reports that some commanders of the battalion this month committed some disgusting actions. Reports reached me on unethical behaviour of drunken officers. What do you do as a Communist to stop this kind of nonsense?
— Well, — I answered, — we do drink hard and do fight hard. You cannot deny the heroism of my guys. Even the snitch, who apparently reports everything to you, has already received a medal on his chest.
— He is informing us, not snitching — raising his voice, the Lieutenant Colonel began to educate me on army ethics.
What kind of rights, you cranky man, have you to educate me, sitting here far away from the tracers and bullets? You do not even know where my battalion is located.
— I just finished a talk with Major K…. He is aware of your problem.
Ha! What problem? This is something new. Now I turn all my attention to the deputy PO (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor).
— If it’s not a secret, what kind of problem? In the morning I did not have any problem, I did not have it at lunch, but for some reason my problem was cooked by now. What is it? For your information, I spoke with my battalion and there, in Barak, everything is in order.They are getting ready for tomorrow’s march.
— You can be dismissed! — and he pointed at the door with his finger.
After that conversation I had a bad taste in my mouth. This guy definitely does not like me. Where is my old pal Lt. Col. Platsynda Nikolai Kondratievich?
With a heavy feeling in my heart, I went to see my friends from another department Trying to be secretive, so no one can see, I opened my bag:
— Choose your taste!
— Oh! You do have here a good collection of weapons! What do you want from us?
— Change the first letters from Transbaikal Military District to Far Eastern Military District and send me to the direct service of the District Commander. Somehow make a misspelling, or make a mistake. I will pretend I never saw the original order.
— No problem!
I feel like a heavy burden was lifted from my shoulders. Well, all I want to do is to forget about this Transbaikal Military District
Walking further along the corridor, I reached the room of Deputy Brigade Commander.
— Come in! — he invited me and straight to business — Where are your documents? Let me put my autograph on them. By the way, you do not need to return to your Barak Station, go from here directly to the Union (see “Terminology and Glossary” — Editor). Tomorrow afternoon will be the board to Kabul, and from Kabul you will take a plane to Tashkent. You, in fact, already have a replacement. Let the new guy take over your company. This decision is coming from someone in the political department. No need to piss against the wind.