He is a unique military and personal legend of the Sapper Regiment. He is a head of Military service dogs nursery, in common parlance — the kennel, and also, as I was told, a rare idiot. His nickname was chosen by his fate as well as his surname. However, this man has one good quality — he loves dogs to the Moon and back. For dogs he was a devoted teacher, nurse, doctor… well… everything, but for a human being… better not to say it.
I was told a story when after arriving to the regimen and taking the position, Truba almost killed a young soldier — Ryzhu — for serving hot food to dogs. You see, the dogs cannot eat hot food as it affects their senses. So, Truba saw that a young, newly conscripted private nicknamed Ryzhu, placed a plate of steamy food in front of a dog. Without any words, Truba grabbed a shovel and run towards poor Ryzhu. God heaven that Ryzhu spotted him in time! The whole regiment observed how for a half an hour with a roar: “Ugandoshu” (“Kill you” — Editor) Truba chased Ryzhu around the camp and enjoyed Rychu’s maneuvers and zigzag rabbit tricks! After this incident, Trubilin bluntly reported to a commander about the incident and demanded that Ryzhu must stay at least within the distance of a gun-shot from the kennel; and modestly concluded his report, pointing out that if this bastard Ryzhu will ever appear near the animals, he, Guard Ensign of the Soviet Army, in spite of serving the Constitution of the USSR, will personally rip Ryzhu apart. The incident was ended.
To make the story short, Ensign Trubilin did not give a shit about others but I decided to try my luck and for a moral support I came with a couple of guys who claimed to be friends with him.
Approaching the kennel… I saw Ensign Trubilin who was sitting and reading something in the gazebo. He reminded me of a dark thundercloud, puffed and full of anguishing words, ready to explode. He was a guy in his middle age, short but heavily built, with such a spotlessly shaved fat face that the blue color of a lower part of his face was vividly contrasted to the olive skin of his body. His facial features echoed Southern origin, not obvious but traced in his face. His heavy eyes were sharply pointed towards me and he frowned but did not put down his readings
I felt like a pioneer leader in front of a superior member of the Communist Party: “Good morning, let us appeal to your decision and allow us to do so and so… We heard about your kindness and generosity and so on…” In short, we were like little girls asking Mommy’s permission to take candies. Trubilin reluctantly asked something and we answered, and after so-called friends of his were sent back empty-handed, he and I entered the kennel.
As soon as Dick saw us, he went crazy, the poor guy. He cannot stand up on his back legs, but tried to pull all his body, neck, legs towards us. He tried stretching to us and to get as close as possible to us in a puppy style, without losing face, but he did it with dignity. However, apparently, in few minutes his fire ended. He ran out of strength. He got tired and even his breath became difficult with a stuck out tongue.
Meanwhile, other dogs joined Dick’s noisy entertainment. On this occasion, Truba decided to give me a tour around the kennel. We started a conversation. Indeed, he is, what we called a heavy metal soul, but this man was a magician with his dogs.
With obvious pain in his voice, Truba tells me about the Dick’s health situation.
— He cannot stand up on his leg. One leg he cannot raise. His chest is also still a mess, there are discharges continuously coming out. I think, some piece of metal is still inside…
I suggested:
— How about to call for Stepan right now? Let’s see what he can do…
Trubilin looked at me like I am a child in cuckoo land who has one leg shorter than the other and answered:
— The dog has the best treatment, every day a chief medical officer is checking on him and giving him all necessary injections, I give him injections too but… he needs different… he needs his Fedor…
— But how Fedor will help?
— He is missing Fedor, and this is the root of his sickness. By the way, I already asked Stepan if any more can be done… You, pal, saved Dick. You sewed him well but now his health is affected due to a different reason.
Here we go! They said that Truba is a beast… Hm…
Meanwhile our four-legged friend stretched out on the yellow grass and squinted his eyes enjoying a psychedelic song, mumbled in Tatar by my nuker, my military shadow Boldy.
January 1985 was the most depressive time. This endless and eventless time could be crowned on the top of all months of my entire military service. Before New Year nothing much happened, except for two trips to the God forgotten place called Baharak. During the first trip we sat at the “point” without even thinking to pick out our noses behind the gate. The second trip was even worse. It was such a boring trip! Hiding in dugouts, we were doing nothing, except playing fools and entraining ourselves with our own dicks, constantly masturbating to kill boredom. The only one attempt to get to the mountains, was not successful because our new battalion commander had no balls for it. He was a replacement. A sissy boy, I would say!
I remember celebrating the New Year on duty by smoking marihuana to the stage when the word “mama” cannot come out from my tongue. When our duty finished, we again stoned ourselves to the stage of complete dummies… meaningful time, nothing more to say…
Only one thought was bumping in my head:” Where is my replacement”. I see, due to the shitty weather condition, helicopters could not pass the clouds… what was left for us? Only waiting…
At that time I visited Dick almost every day. My friendship with Truba has been cemented and the sappers were puzzled how I managed it. I do not know how it happened. We had a common interest talking about dogs, I guess, and this was enough for our friendship. In my opinion, Trubilin knew nothing except the dogs’ life and, as I understood, he had no desire to expand his horizon of knowledge towards anything else. He could talk days and nights about his four-legged friends, he knew everything about them, he loved them dearly and dogs loved him too, obeying not only a verbal command but a slight gesture.
During this time our kid was constantly medically treated. He did not die, of course, but the significant breakthrough did not happen either. Discharges kept coming out from his chest; he could not stand up on his paw, but, at least, started to move this paw and it was a progress. Continuously new problems were chasing him: if not diarrhea, then a King’s evil had happened.
This pal had only one joy in his life — a time when a letter arrived from Fedor. Fedor was writing to a whole division, but unopened letters were delivered to the kennel and placed into Truba’s hands. Once I had a chance to see this ceremony. I was moved to a core…
Trubilin ceremoniously placed a letter in front of Dick to sniff who immediately fell on the belly and froze,; then Truba opened the letter and slowly, with the pronunciation of a TV news reporter, announced the text. Our Dick has turned into a statue. The shaking ears were elongated upward. An unreal reaction! But the letter’s content was crap as usual, something like: “Hey guys, I am ok, from day to day just waiting to be back, everything is annoying… Doctors are freaks, food is shit, nurses are bitches… How is Dick? I shake your paw. Fedor”. The end….
After announcing the contents of the letter, Truba placed the open letter in front of the dog. Dusya stretched, reached the piece of paper and several times inhaled this treasured scent of his owner and froze again… It seemed that he wanted to absorb literally the smell of Fedor to the last bit…. Then turning around he hobbled to a far corner of his kennel, laid, stretched his body and closed his eyes. I can swear on the Bible that I saw tears coming from his eyes…