They were gone for the Motherland. Bashny.Net

SHOTS FROM THE PAST

"We came to this place to explore for the second time. Again together. Me and my wife. Game, Wilderness. Bears walk on the heels and specially shitting on our site halts - mark territory, frighten newcomers. And this - silence does not work even a mobile phone. Only the forest, and you passed. Then we have to understand why the soldier was given to us so hard. He called us last autumn, shouted in a voice that we found it. But we do not understand. It's not fancy, not nonsense. Fatalities, lost and buried not speak with those who can hear them. Not everyone and not always. You will confirm any search engine. In the Novgorod search party "Valley" was half-blind disabled veteran- "Afghan" that night, got up and walked through the woods. Sleep. And sets landmarks, making notches on the trees and in the morning in these places found soldiers. What was left of them. And then the "Afghan" has died, went to his heavenly host. I am fulfilling its great mission.

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In general, on the third day of a quiet life in the forest, for no apparent reason my soul was suddenly breaking and twisting. I anxiously listened to his conscience, looked deeper and could not understand the reason. Maybe I was too good here with a loved one, too quiet, too calm? That night I could not sleep. Ten times sat on the threshold of the tent - smoked, looked at the pale stars. My favorite, by the way, was going through the same anguish, I suffered, but endured. My wife had the full horror when the hour of the night at the old military plank, called "Russenveg" at different intervals six times produdel car horn. Cars were not there and could not be even quad - in those parts "Russenveg" almost completely dissolved in the "Volkhov jungle" ... locomotive on a distant piece of iron? Station 15 kilometers - within earshot and so he hums. I read my wife a short lecture on local roads. They were called "Volkhov piano" - car wheels going over the logs, stacked in the marsh mud, as the key. And for some reason I remembered and told me that most of these roads are single track, and every two or three kilometers they organized patrols for cars. Clarify with severe erysipelas:

 - This is the driver with the junction dudel oncoming car, say, miss ... Nordic nations, when they can not explain a phenomenon, for example, seemed shot, saying that he "has come from the past».

The next person

Morning turned dreary and wet - lay fog hung close without thinking stretch. Waiting for rain like we moved the long march and decided to walk around with a metal detector.

We started with the clearing, where the Germans were beautifully used "artillery fork." There, before the ford was the field on which accumulated our troops to cross the river. The Germans, two shells Accuracy Increasing suitcases, and a third round put exactly on the road-plank. Having described a semicircle and entangled in impassable windbreaks, we vylomilis from the thicket on the road "Russenveg" precisely at the junction for cars. Right at the junction and a thin metal singing drawl - non-ferrous metal. When shown a hose mask, I saw my wife:

 - Carefully dig, the remains can be.

A second later, I heard the sound of the inexpressible - the metal hit bone. Him with nothing to confuse ... You can mix up the stone and iron, but human remains - never!

"PASSPORT DEATH»

The next few hours we spent, twisting forest land inside. Probing fingers every lump, we opened ten squares. There was a feeling that the forest itself gave us a soldier. The soldier came out of nothingness restless. Earth wrapped with sheets, as the football pitch, the roots were cut with a shovel at a time, or fight hand to its full length. But, most of all, his coat and boots just changed the structure of the soil at this location. Medallion course, we did not find in their hearts, and I, like all search engines, cursed those who choose to be smarter than the whole world. And instead of a medal on a chain, like the Germans or the Americans came up with this evil black-red-green Bakelite "needles-case" does not even regulate the place of wear. This mortal medallion with the so-called "passport of death" form with the data soldier choked blast or fall. Burst of trapped water and paper in it to perish in the dust. Looks like Homeland was not going to lose their sons ... But even in such places and in such numbers. To clear my conscience I walked several times with the unit area - hoping to find the subscription thing. The bones of the soldier was a thick-walled, solid slug fragment. I found this and the sidewall of the shell, and desyatigradusny sector from aluminum cone fuse. He has broken into squares visually clearing and passed again. Empty. Nothing more was not there and could not be.

Make a cross - in our blood

I started to cut cross. I took a tree, a knife and an ax chose deep grooves crossbar. With each flakes fell into the moss, my fierce longing. He brought a very long copper wire braid without - both specifically for the unit has to cross. I thought that the ability to make crosses fallen - this is our, Russian, in our blood. Vaccinated and absorbed through the dozens or hundreds of generations of wars.

Speeches over the grave was not, which is much less speech, when all my heart without words. He said only: "Thank you for everything, brother! All we could do for you. If you do not want to lie here alone, let me sign. In the autumn passed, lie down with his friends. " My favorite was silent, kneeling before the cross. Pray, put on a mound of candy and cigarettes. Including the sun - on a restless soul in the forest became less. And we went on. Strange, but it happened on my birthday ».
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