“FOR OTHER OTHERS” – about a Russian monk who died on the Serbian frontline
He met the dawn, lying on the damp ground. The throated thigh ached. Despite the fact that he tightly bandaged the wound, blood still seeped through the bandage, and he weakened more and more every hour. The novel was on a slope of anonymous height. Six meters from him lay the dead Muslims, and a little to the side were the Serbs Arkan and Bashko, his comrades-in-arms.
There were only eight of them from the special unit “White Wookiees” or “White Wolves”, if you read in Russian. They were assigned a combat mission: to cross the front line at night and capture the dominant heights that were behind the Muslims. Intelligence reported that the height is empty, and there is no one on it.
They easily completed the first part of the plan, climbed into the rear to the Muslims, and then, either the intelligence worked poorly, or the enemy realized the importance of this height, but at the top they ran into Muslims. There were many Muslims, no less than a hundred, and a battle ensued, fierce and unequal, they chopped bursts at point blank range, randomly threw grenades, the Muslims began to panic, and they hastily left the heights. Now Roman lay alone on top and did not know what fate befell his comrades, whether they all died, or maybe someone survived.
He was badly injured, and any movement caused him unbearable pain. He did not know that at that time Sergey, confident that no one was left alive, was dragging the seriously wounded Alexander. They were the last to survive the squad.
…Roman Serafimovich Malyshev was born in the city of Vyatka in a simple Russian family. I went to a regular school and was no different from my peers. He had one hobby, he loved to draw, he painted well and selflessly, spent hours somewhere in nature, painting landscapes. This hobby determined his choice at the end of school, when the question arose of where to go to study. Roman went to St. Petersburg, he decided to become an artist. In St. Petersburg, near the Saigon cafe, strangely dressed young people drew his attention, they were hippies. The square near the cafe was a favorite place for their “party”. However, not only hippies were “hanging out” there, but also punks, metallers, rockers and others. In the yard was 1987. These were the last days of the Soviet Union, and it was fashionable to “hippy”. Roman was a sociable person, quickly met with young “rebels” and made new friends. Among the “hippy” youth there were many talented artists and poets, and Roman soon found his own kind.