Their faces are all black from gunpowder, eyeballs and teeth are shining. Nod to one, point direction to another and we are all off sprinting forward, zigzag, "screw" and roll. - Eh, mama told me: "learn English" - My mama told me: "Do NOT crawl into wells, sonny". No sign of the enemy in the window at the other side of the house and we leapfrog, taking short streaks, stooped four times our normal hight, towards the Central Train Station. The brigade remains are trying to fight the way to the old center.
From the report we knew he was Russian and, from his own words, even from Novosibirsk. On two APCs, along with the recon squad I set off to pick up "the clapper". Approximate expectation gave us the figure of about fifty people to be her. Here, though, all guards were soundly asleep or spooks gashed them quietly. When heads pop open with a crunch under a steel caterpillar and all around it is sprayed with a grey and red mass of brain. - Well, give tell what good about you, - Yourka clearly was not able to find the place. Everything was on fire, all that could burn and even all that couldn't. Brain of a maybe unaccomplished genius, poet, scientist or just good lad, father, brother, son, friend who didn't chicken out and came here in this shithole of a place called Chechnya and, may be, to his last moment, didn't even realised what the hell happened to him. Shivering, we too began to load up grenades in launchers. Eh, what a wonderful device, this launcher (Russian GP-25, under-barrel grenade launcher for AK assault rifles, similar to M203 - grenade-launching tube sometimes mounted under the rifle barrel of an M-16). The sweat is blanketing my eyes, fatigues are steamy; the taste of blood in my mouth is unbearable and temples are pounding heavily. Short streaks forward, bits of bricks, chips of concrete and broken glass everywhere. All of it, in one word could be called a madhouse, almost no interaction anywhere. The Chinese say that everything growing and moving is eatable.
Especially difficult to work with are the Internal Forces. But only the one should be able to cook according to the prorated manner.
It could be described as a tube (about 2.5 inches in diameter) with a trigger and a safety pin.
There is also an aiming mechanism, but since the first days we conned it so that now easily can do without it.
Now we are going to the Central Train Station, where, in almost full complement, was wiped out the Mikop Brigade. When after the battle they began to fall asleep (imagine no sleep for a week, adrenaline and Vodka for breakfast, lunch and dinner), spooks slunk up and wasted them from a point blank range. When our brigade fought its way through heavy rebel defences to help them, our tanks had to struggle through barricades of corpses of our Slavic brothers... If you want, can go to my basement, the fighters have beaten five rats just now and are cooking breakfast now.
Just the mistake Chapaev made: no guards along perimeter. Their commander, with both his legs injured; still tried to reassert control, although he could retreat to the rear. When you see how tracks chop and hummer human flesh, how heavy leading wheels coil intestines of people just like yourself...
We call it lovingly: "podstvol'nichek", although, weight of the device could prove a bit too much (about half a kilo).