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On a
shot, shattered stool, hardly maintaining his disobedient body in balance, an
old man was sitting. Impossibly
thin, pale to grayness, almost blind, with “ragged” skin showing chronic
malnutrition. Pajama trousers
smoldered to holes with obscure breech stripes “warmed” his legs.
Thick lenses in awkwardly pink, “second-hand” woman’s frame tied to
the ears with ropes and fixed on the bridge of the nose with a lace helped the
eyes to see. Large lady buttons on
the awkwardly pink and also woman’s jacket finished the picture of the
personal apocalypses of the man trying to remain sitting on his stool.
“Thi-is
is ho-ow the fa-amily of a Russian he-ero lives,” comes to the head, as if
from nowhere and from nothing, an old Soviet tune completely useless for
today’s Grozny, “Hero-oo,” the melody tinkled but still persisted, “who
de-fe-ended his count-ry-y with might...”
It
was clear at last: it is the old man in pink glasses trying to hum, veteran of
the Great Patriotic War and retired captain of frontier guards Baturintsev Petr
Grigorievich. Here, in the ruins of
Grozny, on the street Ugolnaya 142 in Staropromyslovski region, he lived through
both Chechen wars and now, on a stool brought out closer to the blossoming
nature, named “greenery” in this part of the world, Petr Grigorievich is
meeting the 85th spring of his life and the 56th after the
Victory, which was long considered world’s ultimate victory over fascism...
We
all want to be good. In front of
others and ourselves. This is a
completely natural feeling, especially when there is a holiday.
Exactly because of this, on 9 May, we long to be touched by the view of
old men-veterans with ironed clothes, giving smacks to each other on the capital
streets. However, there is another
veteran life. And there is another
Victory Day in our country. It is
in Grozny. Here, by laws of
wartime, sentences are pronounced, upon former frontline soldiers as well.
“How
do you live, Petr Grigorievich?” a silly question for Chechnya, of course, but
it came out already... The old man takes his head off the stick set against the
ground and starts to cry.
“Uncle
Petia has almost nothing of his own. Everything
is from the ruins. The glasses. The jacket.” somebody pronounced this from behind, while
the old man attempts to cope with the spasms of dumb sobbing, “from the dead,
I think...”
“I
don’t see... I---lived... Sometime ago...” finally old man constrained to
speak. Petr Baturintsev fought
three years, from 1942 to 1945, always in the complement of the North group of
the Transcaucasian military district, which also liberated Grozny.
The post-war life of Petr Grigorievich was clear and simple: he returned
to the city, married soon after and started to work in the factory
“Electropribor” (“Electric Device”) until retirement.
He met pensioners, wore awards on holidays.
“I---lived... I---lived...”
the old man continues to insist. A
woman in men’s sandals and a torn blue blouse approached.
“I’m
his wife. My name is Nadezhda
Ilinichna. I am 10 years younger.
I am only 75. And that’s why you see I am still walking,” the woman
invites to their dwelling. “We spent two wars here, did not walk out anywhere except
to cellars, and only this gave us the possibility to retain the flat.
By the way, it is privatized!” Nadezhda
Ilinichna looks very proud when shows the city ruins with the right of ownership
of them. The day before there was a
long downpour and the “flat” looks fairly soaked.
In the roof is a big hole, camouflaged with a greenhouse film.
At times rain pours through it, at times the sky glances in.
“We
live well. Many remained without
walls,” the wife continues and it is evident, where this voice comes from:
it’s just that Nadezhda Ilinichna tries hard not to cross the borders of the
ideology she chose---be content with little, by all means.
“Elderly are honored everywhere here...” quietly drawls the same
person from behind, and it is a young Chechen neighbor. He is the only one in the world who takes care today of the
veteran “Uncle Petia”. He takes
him to the toilet, washes him sometimes, brings water from somewhere far away,
does not let the Baturintsevs die of hunger.
“But
does someone from the military come here? From
the military registration office, for example? This is the first question that
unexpectedly drew a smile on the exhausted face of Petr Grigorievich.
He is puzzled: don’t people, who live in Chechnya, still now that the
military here do not visit houses except for “cleansing”?..
Nadezhda
Ilinichna fondles a little girl, who ran to her.
The child and the woman long for each other and,
obviously the wife of Petr Grigorievich is lonely and painful without
family, without children and relatives.
“Her
name is Aishat. She is a daughter
of neighbors Elmurzaevs. I feel so
good with her. We are friends.
Petr Grigorievich and I also have grandchildren.
Larisa is 25, Olenka is 23. Wonderful
girls.”
“Where
are they?” “They
are very busy, “ this is how usually the topic is closed.
But now Petr
Grigorievich wants to talk:
“They
live in an institute dormitory, in Piatigorsk.
Larisa is looking for job, Olenka is still studying at medical faculty.
You should understand, they cannot take us with them and it is impossible
to come here.”
“But
Larisa and Olenka have parents, don’t they?”
Nadezhda
Ilinichna: “The son lives in Blagodarny, in Stavropol region.
He has his own problems. I
beg let’s not talk about it in front of Petr Grigorievich.
We
depart, thinking of saving the old man.
“Maybe
I should call or write to your son? I could tell him how you are here...”
“Not
in any case,” Petr Grigorievich, it turned out, hears us.
But he does not cry anymore, although the “Parkinson’s” in the
hands noticeably builds up. Now he
is dry, strict and categorical.
If
only Petr Grigorievich could know how many similar human tragedies have been
learned in this war!.. And the essence of them all is the same: relatives, who
live “in Russia” (as it is called in Chechnya), do not wish or cannot take
“theirs” far from the war. That’s
why, travelling through this dreary city is like going through addresses of the
omitted lives. Here, you know, a
Russian grandmother is alive, whom relatives obstinately do not take to Tumen,
and on another street, in ruins, a Russian grandfather huddled (but died three
months ago of exhaustion), forgotten by two sons and three daughters, dispersed
across different regions and cities... Here
is the turn from Staropromyslovski district to Berezka; this is a name of one of
the city’s micro-districts. Nearby
the turn is a house of elderly, whose fates our newspaper has been following for
the entire 20 months of the current war. On
the Easter, in the almshouse, Maria Sergeevna Levchenko died.
She got here only in November last year with her older sister Tamara
Sergeevna; both were in extremely emaciated state.
After losing houses, they rambled about cellars for more than a year,
unable to wash for months, not counting even on bread for weeks.
After the endured suffering and exhaustion, in autumn 2000 Tamara
Sergeevna went mad in a cellar. Then
Maria Sergeevna, unable to bear this burden anymore, followed her nose, perhaps
it wouldn’t be worse, and loaded her sister on a handcart.
When people saw this dreadful procession, they prompted where the house
of elderly is. However, after
performing her mission and finding for Tamara Sergeevna free warmth, food and
medicines, Maria Sergeevna quickly deceased of fulminant cancer.
Now Tamara Sergeevna is alone.
This
is the modern Russian national tragedy naked by the war. It is illustrates that
cruelty applied to Chechnya by federal center affected only fighters and those
who assisted them in their activity against army subdivisions.
The
brutal tendency of the present time lies in the following: world is for the
strong ones, the weak should die. Just
recall events of last year, when veterans from Chechnya were invited to Moscow
on 9th of May, to the Victory Parade.
Petr Grigorievich was not only omitted from the delegation then because
of numerous diseases but also his mere existence was completely forgotten.
In Moscow and Grozny only the veterans who were on their legs and had
strength were celebrated. Forget about the Victory Parade!
No one even thought to take Petr Baturintsev, veteran and invalid of war,
deserted without help of relatives, away from the bombardments and shootings
before the storm in winter 1999-2000, which wiped Grozny off the ground.
Moreover, no one from the military officials, not a single officer, came
to visit the retired army officer to find out if he survived the storm, to ask
if he wanted to eat. And that is
despite the fact that it is not so far to go: Ugolnaya Street is only 200 meters
away from the building of Staropromyslovski military commandant’s office.
However, no one there had a flash of thought to feed the retired captain
Baturintsev at least once from officers’ mess room!
I
don’t know how it appears to you but in my opinion this precisely is fascism
in its pure form – the notorious idea of Hitler of destroying and casting out
of life the feeble and poor ones like worthless stuff on the way to the light
future. State fascism, which has
successfully grown into the family layer. Exactly
this fascism, for the struggle against which Petr Baturintsev sacrificed his
youth and health...
Today,
there are many talks in Chechnya on how to adjust more or less decent human
relationship between the military and Chechens.
How to settle bridges of trust. How
to let Chechens understand that the new power came to help them. At the present time, this is very difficult, at least because
it is impossible to explain to Chechens living in Ugolnaya Street why the old
Russian man, retired officer, leads an even worse life under the reestablished
“Russian government” than the one he lived under Johar and Maskhadov.
How can one make Chechens believe that “we came with good aims” if
this goodness does not extend even to “their” people?.. Nothing similar to
what Petr Grigorievich Baturintsev fared could happen to a Chechen in his
declining ages.
One
example to prove, also from the life of veterans.
Not far from the Baturintsevs, on Kluchevaya Street 259, 82-years-old
grandfather Umar lives. Just as
Baturintsev, Umar Ahkhmatkhanov is invalid of the second degree of the Great
Patriotic War, his legs failed functioning and he almost does not see.
Just as Petr Grigorievich, in both Chechen wars he was at home, sat in a
cellar and did not want to escape from bombardments.
However,
the difference between the life that veteran Baturintsev leads today and the one
veteran Umar has is just a world. Umar
has well-groomed house, though with traces of war, clean floor, he is washed and
his clothes are ironed, his granddaughters bring everything he asks at first
call, his sons (all with highest education) and daughters-in-law help.
Family’s life revolves around him, the old man. Alas, the reason for
such different life of two veterans of the same war in same town is nationality
among others. Former frontier guard
Petr Grigorievich lives awfully. Former
machine-gunner and participant of the battle for Stalingrad, Umar Ahkhmatkhanov
lives quite bearably. Answering to
the question, “How do you live?” grandfather Umar does not cry at all but
laughs instead and utters with confidence, “Not easily, of course.
But I live. ”
“Still,
the Great Patriotic War was a good war,” Nadezhda Ilinichna Baturintseva said
like an axiom and one realizes to what stage of despair a person must be driven
that he/she would consider the war that took millions of lives “good”.
“And the present war is bad,”
she concludes, “incomprehensible
war. For the sake of anyone but not us.”
P.S.
The editorial thanks the war commissar of Chechnya, Colonel Anatoli Khrachkov,
for assistance in organizing the present material and expresses hope that he
will fulfill all the promises of helping the veteran of war, Petr Grigorievich
Baturintsev.
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