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| Дата | 18.09.2000 08:36:25 | |
| Рубрики | Спецслужбы; Армия; | |
Re: Стaтья про Чeчню из "Los Angeles Times" ч 3
--Valery
Valery is a personnel officer, what in Soviet times would have been called a commissar. He's a lieutenant colonel
responsible for morale and discipline. He shouldn't talk to reporters.
But the night is dark, the beer from the roadside kiosk outside his army base is cold, and he has a lot on his mind. He
checks documents, then launches into a diatribe.
"In this war, the attitude toward the Chechens is much harsher. All of us are sick and tired of waging a war without
results," he says. "How long can you keep making a fuss over their national pride and traditions? The military has realized
that Chechens cannot be re-educated. Fighting against Russians is in their blood. They have robbed, killed and stolen our
cattle for all their lives. They simply don't know how to do anything else. . . .
"We shouldn't have given them time to prepare for the war," he continues. "We should have slaughtered all Chechens over
5 years old and sent all the children that could still be re-educated to reservations with barbed wire and guards at the corners.
. . . But where would you find teachers willing to sacrifice their lives to re-educate these wolf cubs? There are no such
people. Therefore, it's much easier to kill them all. It takes less time for them to die than to grow."
Valery was in Chechnya in the early phase of the war, when he says there was little oversight from the high command and
there were no pesky journalists.
"Now the press sets up a howl after the death of every Chechen. It has become impossible to work. We know very well
that thousands of eyes are watching us closely. How are we expected to fight the bandits in such circumstances?
"The solution, in fact, would have been very easy--the old methods used by Russian troops in the Caucasus in the 19th
century. For the death of every soldier, an entire village was burned to ashes. For the death of every officer, two villages
would be wiped out. This is the only way this war can be brought to a victorious end and this rogue nation conquered."
Valery acknowledges that atrocities occur but says that, in effect, soldiers are carrying out a policy the government needs
but is afraid to declare. "For political reasons, it's impossible to murder the entire adult population and send the children to
reservations," he says. "But sometimes, one can try to approximate the goal."
* * *
Doing the Job Right
Russia has deployed a motley force of 100,000 in Chechnya. The men have different reasons for going, and they have
different jobs when they get there.
The job of seizing territory falls largely to federal forces, under the Defense Ministry, which include elite paratrooper and
special forces units, as well as infantry and artillery regiments composed of both conscript and contract soldiers.
The job of holding territory and weeding out rebels from the local population--so-called
mopping-up operations--falls largely to troops under the jurisdiction of the Interior Ministry.
Among them are elite police commandos, known as OMON and SOBR, as well as enlisted
Interior Ministry troops consisting of both conscripts and contract soldiers.
Russia's first war in Chechnya was largely--and badly--fought by conscripts. By law, all
Russian men are supposed to serve for two years starting at age 18, and in the previous war
many found themselves in the war zone before they knew how to fire their rifles.
This war was supposed to be different, to be fought mostly by second-year conscripts and
professional soldiers. But contract soldiers, while older, are not really professional. They are
largely men who sign up for the money. All have served their time as conscripts, and some have
served several tours of duty--often because they find themselves unable to hold down a civilian
job.
"I signed up because I have nothing else to do," said one, who admitted that he had just split
up with his wife and has been unable to find a regular job. "If things were normal here, I
wouldn't go, but the way things are, what other choice do I have?"
The elite police forces, while highly trained, also are not exactly combat soldiers. The OMON is largely schooled in riot
and crowd control, SOBR in fighting organized crime. They are sent to Chechnya on two- or three-month assignments.
The police special forces and career soldiers tend to be older, and most have families at home. If they refuse an
assignment in Chechnya, they face discipline or dishonor before their comrades. So, many take the assignments and, once in
the war zone, do whatever it takes to return home safely.
To induce the contract soldiers and police troops to sign up, the Russian government offers
hefty combat pay--800 rubles a day, about $28. At home, career soldiers and police earn only
about 1,500 rubles, about $50, in an entire month. That's an average wage, but even in Russia it
doesn't go very far.
Many said the money is a powerful incentive.
"Look out the window," said one army officer, interviewed on his military base. "You'll see
a whole line of new cars parked outside."
While the career soldiers and elite police forces face professional pressure to serve in
Chechnya, contract soldiers are volunteers, viewed with suspicion by many of the other
branches as little more than mercenaries.
"The worst thing is when a person goes to Chechnya to make money," said a 34-year-old
OMON officer. "A person who does that should really have his head examined by a
psychiatrist, for this person clearly has a propensity for sadism."
* * *
"So there will be one Chechen less on the planet, so what? Who will cry for
him?"
--Gennady
Gennady is a paratrooper and proud of it. He's wearing a telnyashka, the paratroopers' trademark striped undershirt, and a
robin's-egg-blue beret studded with badges. It's Paratroopers' Day, and the 24-year-old has come to a city park to meet his
pals and trade war stories. He spent a few months in Chechnya last winter and expects to return this fall.
Gennady says his officers taught him to trust no one in Chechnya, not even the children.
"There were cases when small kids would run to the middle of the road, right in front of a moving convoy of trucks and
APCs. And they were shot dead right on the spot by soldiers who thought the kid could be carrying a mine or a grenade. Hell
knows, maybe they weren't. But it is better to be safe than sorry."
Gennady says that although he's been home for a few months, his hatred hasn't abated.
"I hated them when I fought in Chechnya, and I hate them now. I can't even watch TV when it shows Chechens--I feel all
my muscles start to ache and I want to smash something."
Gennady says the most important lesson his commanders taught him was: Shoot first. Think later.
"Our officers would always teach us: Be careful, do not feel ashamed to be afraid of everything. Fear is your friend, not
your enemy, in Chechnya. It will help you stay alive and come back home to your families. If you see someone who looks
suspicious, even a child, do not hesitate--shoot first and only then think. Your personal safety is priority No. 1. All the rest
does not matter. So there will be one Chechen less on the planet, so what? Who will cry for him? Your task is to complete the
mission and return home unscathed."
* * *
Fearing Only Fear
Most of the interviewed servicemen describe a corrosive atmosphere of fear and isolation in the war zone that was often
relieved by acts of violence against Chechens, both fighters and civilians.
Such fear was compounded by the difficulty of coordinating between so many different kinds of Defense and Interior
Ministry forces; soldiers reported frequent misunderstandings, including an unnerving number of casualties from "friendly
fire."
"You can't imagine anything more horrible than the sight of your buddy, who was at your side a few minutes ago, blown to
pieces, bits of his flesh steaming in the snow," said one 19-year-old conscript. "Especially when it's your own side that did
it."
As a result, many Russian units feel vulnerable and isolated on the battlefield. They aren't sure that they can count on other
units to keep them supplied and safe, and tend to assume that they have to fend for themselves.
One theme repeated by many of the servicemen is that in the war zone, each unit's commander was left more or less to set
his own standards.
"I was lucky I wound up in a good regiment that wasn't a madhouse, with a normal commander," said the 35-year-old
soldier. "Everything depends on the commander."
Moreover, most of the servicemen had been told that the Chechens had a special animosity for their particular unit--that
they would suffer excruciating torture at Chechen hands if they had the misfortune to be captured. True or not, those stories
induced many Russian servicemen to assume the worst about any Chechen they met--man, woman, young, old.
"Our commander told us all the time, 'There's no such thing as a Chechen civilian,' " a conscript said.
Finally, the servicemen said they resort to atrocities because the authorities--both the political leadership and the judicial
system--leave them unprotected.
"Bespredel emerges when soldiers know that the state is too far away or too little interested in supporting or controlling
servicemen," said one 25-year-old police commando. "And then everyone starts acting on his own, making his own decisions
on the spot. Everyone is responsible for his own life. How decently he does that depends on his individual experiences, both
good and bad, and on his level of cynicism."