The Hot Summer Of Mariupol. Chapter 9
Andrey was lying in his room when Slava “Colonel” Pechenko called.
- Andrey, are you at your place?
- Yeah. Relaxing...
- Great. We’re coming to you now.
Indeed, a couple of minutes later Pechenko himself and Sasha “Prosecutor” entered the room. The latter was in full gear, dusty and clearly tired.
- Hello, where are you coming from, so worn out?
- Andrey, what’s wrong with you? – Slava looked at him in surprise. – Yesterday we talked about how we were sending a group for reconnaissance near Amvrosievka. Did you forget?
- Oh, that’s right, - Andrey rubbed the buzzing back of his head. - Your “Italian” tried to get me drunk. It’s already evening, and I haven’t fully come to my senses yet.
- Yes, he hasn’t come to his senses yet either.He didn't even go to dinner. He drank all the water we had. Okay, we have business with you.
Slava sat down on a chair and motioned for “Prosecutor” to tell the story.
- So, we were riding along different paths. It's a long story. I’ll go straight to the main point, - “Prosecutor” took out a map and unfolded it on the table. - Here, - he pointed with the tip of the knife to a spot, - here is the village of Kamenka, south of Komsomolskoye. Do you see it?
- Well, I do. And what?
- We drove along country roads and through groves. So, in the area of this village, in the grove by the pond, we found three BMP-2 [1]. Abandoned. Moreover, they still have both ammo and fuel in them. The fuel tanks are full. There’s a guy in my platoon who served in infantry fighting vehicles for a short time, and he figured it out right away. The vehicles are in good working order.
- Come on, really? - Andrey looked at him incredulously. - So, is there no one around?
- Not a soul! – “Prosecutor” shook his head categorically.
- Do you understand what's that about? - “Colonel” entered the conversation. - We don’t have any armored vehicles here at all. A couple of BRDMs don't count. Yes, Nazis have several armored personnel carriers which have been used and abused. And here are no one's infantry fighting vehicles. This is awesome!
- Wait, Slava... How will we get them?
- It’s a bullshit question, - Slava waved it off. - We'll find drivers for them. We will move there as a company in jeeps for escort, pick them up and drive them here.
- It’s a good idea, - Andrey thought about it. – Listen, where did they even come from? Whose are they?
- What's the difference! I’m sure the soldiers abandoned them when they fled from near Saur-Mogila. The main thing is that they are no one’s. You have to pick them up quickly, otherwise someone’ll take them away!
- So I don't mind. Why did you come to me?
- You see, we’ll bring them in. Where to go? How to register them? In short, can you talk to Oleshchenko? If he gives the go-ahead, we will leave immediately.
- Yeah, I got it. I’ll talk, - Andrey nodded in agreement and began to get dressed.
Oleshchenko was in his office.
- Comrade General, may I please? – Andrey opened the door. Oleshchenko, seeing the SBU officer, waved his hand in permission, continuing to talk on the phone.
- Hello again. What do you have?
- Well, today the “Dnepr” people went on reconnaissance to the Amvrosievka area.
- I know, I gave permission yesterday.
- So, they found three abandoned BMP-2s near Komsomolskoye, - Andrey pointed to the map. With fuel and with ammunition. There's no one around.
- Wow... - the general drawled dumbfounded. - So, really no one?
Andrey shrugged.
- I wasn't there. But they don’t seem to be lying. They offer to take the equipment here to us.
– Just like this? – Oleshchenko’s surprise jumped even higher.
- Well, put the drivers in the vehicles and drive them here. We're having a hard time with equipment. And here are three infantry fighting vehicles at once. You yourself were constantly upset at meetings that we didn’t have normal equipment...
- Why “upset”? I was just saying that an extra one wouldn't hurt us.
- So I say, let’s take the infantry fighting vehicles here.
- I don’t know. – Oleshchenko drummed his fingers on the table. - We need to consult.
- With whom? – Andrey was surprised.
- I’ll call the commander in Kramatorsk. If he gives the go-ahead, we’ll take them. Is “Dnepr” ready?
- They say they are ready to leave immediately. Comrade General, maybe we’ll pick them up right away and then call afterwards?
- Yeah, and then it will turn out that we stole these vehicles from the Ukrainian Armed Forces. No, it’s better to play it safe... - with these words he picked up the receiver of a secure communication line with the commander.
The conversation was short. The ATO commander immediately stated that there could be no abandoned vehicles, and the vehicles were there in reserve in sector “D.” When Oleshchenko said that there was no one around the equipment, in response he heard an irritated yell that “your scouts just didn’t see our guard!” And “the equipment belongs to the Ukrainian Armed Forces”. There is no point for the National Guard to try and lay their hands on other people's property.
– Have you heard? And so they always are like that, our fucking army men. Heroes, damn it, - Oleshchenko irritably threw the phone on the receiver. - I’m sure they abandoned the equipment, and now they’re yelling at us.
- So what do we do? – Andrey asked cautiously.
- Nothing! We don't do anything. And tell Pechenko to come and see me. I'll tell him myself...
At the exit from the headquarters, “Colonel” and “Prosecutor” were waiting for Andrey.
- Well? – they approached him with hope.
– No go. The general called the commander in Kramatorsk, and he cursed and said that the equipment was not abandoned, and you simply did not see the guard.
- Fuckers! – “Prosecutor” swore. - They abandoned it themselves, and now they don’t give it to us either.
- Slava, Oleshenko is eager to see you, come up, - Andrey nodded towards the steps.
- Damn, why the hell do I need it? To listen to all sorts of curses from him... Couldn't you tell him I wasn't here?
- Sorry, Slava, everyone is facing their own music, - Andrey grinned. - So, off you go.
“Prosecutor”, upset and still swearing, went up to the office. "Colonel", sighing sadly, climbed to the control tower. Andrey sat down on a bench at the entrance and took out his smartphone.
“Sergey, do you need three BMP-2s?”
The answer was not long in coming.
“We do. Are you selling?:-)"
"I can. I’ll give you the spot. Pickup only, you understand. I get 30 percent for the tip.”
"LOL. In Kiev?”
“Three kilometers southeast of Komsomolskoye there is the village of Kamenka. In the grove next to the pond there are three BMPs, fuelled and with ammo. There is no security."
This time the pause was longer, then - “Are you kidding me?”
"Seriously. Today "Dnepr" discovered them. They wanted to take them for themselves, but the big bosses did not agree. So, if you are going to pick them up, hurry up. I think their owners will come for them in the morning.”
"Understood. I'll pass it on. Thank you!"
Andrey stretched. “Well, three infantry fighting vehicles in the Donbass militia will come in handy... I wonder if they pay a percentage of the captured equipment?”
The next day, at lunchtime, a gloomy Pechenko approached Andrey.
- Just think, I sent a group to get the equipment this morning. So there is nothing there anymore. Only the ground is torn by the tracks and splashed with fuel. They took the BMPs...
- Wait, Slava, where would you put them? These aren't matches, can't you hide them in your pocket?
- Well, I would drive them to Dnepropetrovsk. And then they would come up with an idea there. Such vehicles will not be superfluous. Or rather, they would not have been superfluous, - “Colonel” waved his hand in frustration and went about his business.
And Andrey never found out where these infantry fighting vehicles went.
Several more days passed.
Still the same routine. The same detainees. Interrogations and torture by counterintelligence agents. Absolutely innocent people brought to the “Library”... Lawlessness of volunteer battalions. Bullying of regular units at checkpoints...
In addition, the mood was spoiled by the victorious reports of the Ukrainian command regarding the shrinking encirclement of Donetsk and Lugansk. Although, information about the defeat of the troops in the “Izvarin Cauldron” leaked out and warmed things up a little.
At every meeting, Oleshchenko reminded that he was leaving soon, so everyone should be afraid of the terrible and formidable General Rudnitsky in advance. After his arrival, all the officers, of course, had to understand what a darling Oleshchenko was and love him with all their hearts.
One day, standing at the “Library,” Andrey received another detainee who had been brought from the Mustangs’ checkpoint.
At that moment, a brand new silver Mercedes ML jeep drove full-speed into the airfield and stopped at the entrance to the terminal. A crowd of “Dnepr” militants had just gathered there.
Parasyuk got out of the jeep, grinning with all 32 teeth, and Sasha “Prosecutor” got out of the driver’s seat.
- Guys, check out the car! - Parasyuk yelled.
The lively crowd buzzed and surrounded the car.
- Andrey, let’s go have a look,” Vova Pyshny suggested.
- Let’s go, - Andrey nodded reluctantly. Over time, it became increasingly difficult for him to restrain his real attitude towards the fighters of the Ukrainian forces. The reason for this was the ever-increasing chaos perpetrated by them. Only a serious effort of will allowed him to make it through every day until nightfall and fall asleep with the thought: here, another day hasgone by. And vodka, of course...
At the car they pushed through the crowd of onlookers.
- Wow! Where does this unit come from? – Andrey clapped Parasyuk on the shoulder.
Parasyuk turned around, and the smile faded slightly on his face.
– So I was telling about this. We were driving from Novoazovsk, and here it was - standing in a grove, abandoned. The keys were in the lock and no one was there. – Parasyuk perked up and continued, looking back at “Prosecutor”.
- Well, we looked around, there wasno one. And there were no documents.
Well, we wouldn’t want such a good car to go to waste, would we?
- In short, we got in and drove off, - finished “Prosecutor,” leaning on the roof on the other side of the car. - Well, it’s a cool car, passable. The tinting is strong. No one will see how many people are inside. It’s just right for us for reconnaissance.
- May I take a look? - said Andrey. – I’ve never ridden one like this before...
And he got behind the wheel.
The car was really good, well-maintained, but not new. You could feel the unique smell that a car acquires after serving one owner for a long time.
Andrey decided to look into the glove compartment. His gaze caught on the dirty mark on the passenger seat. Not even a trace - part of the seam threads of the light gray seat changed color to dark. Still not understanding what he was doing, Andrey leaned lower. That’s right. Stains were visible on the fair leather - as if dirt had been washed off intensively and not very well. And some of the dirt penetrated the seams and changed their color. Only now the color has changed to...dirty brown.
“Yes, this is blood...” Andrey straightened up in his seat and carefully examined the interior.
He noticed small dark spots on the upholstery of the dashboard. And then he noticed a dark spot on the black covering of the driver’s door, near the speaker. Carefully touching it, Andrey felt his fingertips stick to this spot for a moment. Looking at them, Andrey saw the expected red color...
“Well, yes, it doesn’t dry out on plastic for a long time, the sun doesn’t get there... The guys missed it. They cleaned everything and missed that one.” Andrey straightened up and looked through the windshield at “Prosecutor”, who stood in front of the hood. As if sensing his gaze, “Prosecutor” turned around and in turn looked at Andrey.
“Bastards, they just killed the driver! – a thought flashed like lightning. - Yes, and not just him. There are also traces of blood on the passenger seat.”
Apparently, something in Andrey’s gaze changed, because “Prosecutor” turned around and quickly went inside the terminal. Only Parasyuk continued to rant, praising the car.
- Andrey, how long are you going to take? Let me in, I also want to sit in it, - Vova Pyshny’s voice burst into his consciousness.
- Huh? Yes, I'm already leaving. I'm leaving.
When he got out, the first thing he did was ask Parasyuk where the license plate was. The fact that the car came without license plates had been noticed by everyone right away.
- Who knows? That's what we found.
- Vova, did you find it yourself?
- No. The boys found it first to go, and we pulled up about 20 minutes later. We also helped to look for the driver. But we never found anyone, - Parasyuk explained volubly.
- That's lucky! So Sanya found it? Well, lucky guy, - Andrey slammed his palm on the roof. - It's a pity there are no plates. The traffic police would quickly find out who the owner is.
– What for? Since it was abandoned, it means it’s no one’s.And it will be useful for us, - Parasyuk decided the fate of the car simply. - Am I right, guys?
The “Dnepr” fighters noisily confirmed their agreement with this situation.
Andrey wanted to ask something else, but at that moment “Colonel” came out of the terminal and, casting an attentive glance at Andrey, shouted at his subordinates:
- Okay, well, that's enough here. The car show is over! Got nothing to do? Now I'll make you busy! – and continued more calmly. - Everyone - disperse. Vova, take the car to our service station. Let them check it, pump up the tires, and wash it thoroughly, - at that moment he could not resist and cast a sidelong glance towards Andrey.
- Yes, and copy the body and engine numbers. Let’s send them to the cops, let them identify the owner, - saying these words, he, without hiding, looked directly into Andrey’s eyes. - If they find the owner, then you’ll have to give it back.
For some time they played the staring game. “He knows that I know that he knows...” - a stupid phrase was spinning in Andrey’s head.
- Andrey, why are you frozen? Let’s get back to work, - Pyshny tugged at his sleeve. - Cool car, huh?
- Yes, let’s go, - Andrey turned around, looking away from Pechenko. - Cool, you're right...
“Fuck... what should I do...? Here’s an idea. I should taask the cops through Ian. Let them pull the car over and conduct a thorough inspection of it!” But immediately the sober part of his consciousness rejected this proposal. “Yeah, can you imagine the cops stopping the car where the “Dnepr” fighters are sitting and inspecting it? In five minutes Pechenko will drive a company of his thugs there, and they will smear these cops on the asphalt... Well, then, what can I do?”
Automatically listening to Demenko and Pyshny about the detainees in the “Library,” he tried to find a way to solve the problem. And he didn’t find it.
Andrey himself had little doubt that the “Dnepr” fighters stimply killed the driver of the car they liked when they met him in a remote place on the highway. The corpse was most likely buried there. But their version can only be shattered with reinforced concrete evidence. But this requires a thorough inspection of the car, the involvement of experts and, preferably, the initiation of a criminal case. And Andrey had neither a case nor experts. And the “Dnepr” guys wouldn’t let anyone inspect the car. They would simply not let the experts in, no matter what documents they hide behind...
Realizing his helplessness, Andrey was very upset. Nobody likes to lose. And here it was about criminals. Possibly about a murder. Andrey knew who did it, but could not do anything...
In the evening he sat in his room and drank vodka. Alone.
The sheer negativity that haunted him in this rotation simply merged over time into an endless black streak. And Andrey saw no end to it. The worst thing was the awareness of the horror happening in Mariupol. And the feeling of being unable to stop it. He wanted to howl from powerlessness. Or take an assault rifle and start killing these scum, who, by misunderstanding, are called people. “That’s probably how people go crazy...” Andrey thought detachedly, pouring another glass.
There was a knock on the door, and “Italian” entered the room.
- Oh wow! Are you already drinking alone? – Vitaly commented on what he saw with a cheerful laugh.
- I am. It's been a hard day. What did you want?
- I came to visit you. I haven’t thanked you yet for deciding to help us. You're with us now, right? So we don’t leave our own people in trouble. It is with our enemies that we are merciless...
Andrey, despite drinking, understood perfectly well why “Italian” had come and what this conversation was leading to. The hint sounded quite clear.
- Of course, I’m with you. Why ask again? Will you sit with me?
- Of course, - “Italian” took out a package in which a glass container clinked. - Whiskey. Your boys said that you love this stuff.
- Oh, great, - Andrey rubbed his hands, - you guessed right, you devil. Then -vodka aside, let's drink whiskey.
“I need to keep playing. More naturally, more believeably. Let them believe that I am with them. And I have a higher task, for the sake of which I need to endure all this,” Andrey said mentally. “This is exactly what the men in Sevastopol told me about, but I shrugged it off and chuckled. Here’s an example for me: I should calmly drink with murderers and rapists when I really want to strangle them all... Eh, they didn’t prepare me for this... On the other hand, who knew that I would have to work as a spy and, above all, in wartime?”
These thoughts had no effect on his face as he opened the bottle and poured the amber liquid into two glasses.
- Well, a toast?
“Italian” raised his glass
- To victory!
- To victory! – Andrey sincerely agreed, putting his own meaning into the toast.
They sat for about another hour, after which “Italian” got ready to go to his place.
- Thank you, Andrey, for the treat. Never mind if something was wrong. Contact us, we will help.
- No problem, - Shevchenko agreed, slurring his tongue. - Where would I be without you...
- You know, - Italian suddenly stopped at the threshold. – Our “Prosecutor” fell ill. We sent him to a hospital in Dnepropetrovsk. And three more guys with him. They will get treatment there and get better...
- Did you send them by car? – unexpectedly for himself, Andrey burst out.
- Well, yes. It’s faster than on a bank bus, - “Italian” grinned.
- Well, good. Let him get well, - Andrey yawned and began to clear from the table. - Well, good night?
- Yeah. Good night…
And in the morning at the meeting, Oleshchenko introduced the new commander.
- Comrade officers, I present to you Lieutenant General Valery Ivanovich Rudnitsky, the new commander of sector “M”, a great specialist in the field of public order.
Despite the seriousness of Oleshchenko’s statement, everyone present at the meeting began to smile. Two-meter tall, with hands like shovels, Rudnitsky really looked like a very “big” specialist against the background of the small, round Oleshchenko.
- Hello comrades! - Rudnitsky barked in a bass voice.
- We wish you good health, Comrade General, - those present responded a little dissonantly.
- So, today General Oleshchenko and I will deal with the transfer of affairs. I think we’ll get it done before lunch, - Rudnitsky looked at the previous commander. Oleshchenko nodded affirmatively.
- And after lunch I will talk to everyone personally, so I ask you to be in your places.
The meeting did not last long. Coming out of the building after it, the officers gathered on a bench and discussed the change of commanders with might and main. Since the majority had previously served in the internal troops and now in the National Guard, many officers knew Rudnitsky from their previous places of service.
- Andrey, have you also crossed paths with him? – Ruslan Kozenkov flicked the cigarette butt into the trash can and turned to Andrey
- Yes, - Andrey nodded. - In May. We crossed paths in Izyum. He was then the commander of the ATO in the Donetsk region, and was transferred to the SBU. His call sign was "Ascetic".
- It’s still the same, - confirmed the communications chief. - It doesn’t change.
- And how was he there?
Andrey shrugged:
- Harsh, domineering, tough. But then I moved to another camp and hung out with the AFU. I almost never crossed paths with him.
- Okay, - Kozenkov summed up, - we’ll serve and we’ll see.
During the day, Andrey dealt with various issues without leaving the territory. Only after lunch did he receive a call from the commander.
Entering the office and introducing himself, Andrey came under the gaze of Rudnitsky.
- We have met? – this half-question – half-statement was expected.
- That's right, Comrade General. In May. Base camp in Izyum. I then moved to Dovgenkoye. Our call signs were "Bears".
– That’s right. Your group worked with Muzhenko. I remember...- "Ascetic" extended his paw, there’s no other way to describe it, and said in a deep voice - Come on, tell me what’s happening along your line of work.
Andrey's report was brief but informative. He tried to mention the general operational situation, the mood in the city, and the activities of local SBU bodies to identify DPR supporters. In addition, he separately mentioned crimes committed by Ukrainian military personnel, noting frequent negative aspects in the activities of volunteer battalions.
- Yes, I've heard a lot. This is a problem, and it must be solved, - Rudnitsky nodded. - Let's do it this way. If there is any information, contact me immediately. We'll keep thinking. The commander sent me here with instructions to ensure law and order in the region. This also applies to the activities of our units, - at the word “our” his face twisted, as if from a lemon.
– Some supporters these guys are, - he muttered more quietly. – Do you have any specific facts?
Andrey shrugged.
- Well, they are all unprovable. For compelling reasons, it is necessary to detain people, conduct searches and examinations... So, all I have is operational information. Sometimes - testimony from victims.
- Well, that’s already something, - Rudnitsky perked up.
– This doesn’t matter much, - Andrey waved it off. – What will prevail: the testimony of a volunteer hero or the testimony of a “separatist”?
- Well, yes, - Rudnitsky’s mood dimmed. - OK. We will solve problems as they arise. After all, they are fighting for us. What else do you have?
- The remaining parts of the sector "D" and the "Cordon" group are rolling back through our sector. We would like to somehow establish contacts with them. There have been cases of detention of people who pretend to be military from those units. We are checking them, but it takes time. And the information from them will be useful, because the next one after sector “D” is our sector. We need to know and prepare. Just in case.
- You think right, “Bulat”. I thought about this myself. I'm planning a trip there in the coming days. I want to see it myself. That’s when we'll establish contact. Otherwise, the warriors don’t have much contact with us yet.
- Comrade General, I would like to go with you, - Andrey immediately took the bull by the horns.
- Sure, not a problem. You're a strange SBU officer. Your guys are mostly sitting in base camps. You can barely push them out to the front line, - Rudnitsky grinned.
– SBU guys are not all the same, - Andrey smiled in response. - That's all I wanted to say. May I go?
- Yes. Here's another thing. Organize a meeting for me tomorrow with the leadership of the local SBU department. Who's the boss there?
- Colonel Lizogub Vitaly Nikolaevich, - Andrey knew him, but did not have particularly close contacts, content with communicating with his deputies. - I’ll do it, Comrade General.
[1] BMP – an infantry fighting vehicle.