Free Fall (23 page)

We walked in the rain for almost two hours. Nosov used a compass to keep track of our orientation, stopping every so often to check the route with the infantry lieutenant, illuminating the map with a small red flashlight, just like the one each of us usually carried.

Our captain listened to Lieutenant Razumovsky's suggestions carefully, because after scouting the vicinity
with his group for a whole week, he was the one among us who knew the area best.

The road was unpaved. The ground was a mixture of mud and rocks that weighed down our every step and slowed our progress. We kept close to the trees, whose branches bowed from the weight of the water, closing us in almost like a cage.

After a while we noticed the outline of the mountains appearing majestically in the distance. They were dark, darker than the night, and there was something very menacing about them.

Nosov ordered us to take a short break. My comrades took the opportunity to swap equipment in order to temporarily lighten some of our loads. I took Zenith's light machine gun, even though Nosov usually didn't want me to get too tired; he said that as the sniper in the group I always had to be more rested and alert than all the others, because I needed to be able to concentrate to do my job.

We sat down to rest. Nobody smoked or ate – in these instances it was forbidden. I was thirsty, despite all the water that kept falling from the sky. I took a few sips from the canteen and closed my eyes for a minute.

When I opened them again it wasn't raining so hard. The sky was slowly becoming free of the clouds and you could see a few stars in the distance. Of course, it was still completely dark, but it had become that kind of darkness that we called ‘dear' – a friend, a partner you could trust – because in the dark we saboteurs felt at home.

Nosov gave the order to head out, in ‘millipede' formation, and off we went.

When a big group moves through open territory, it often uses this formation, because it's an effective way to avoid mines and not leave too many tracks. The leader of the company observes the surrounding territory and then chooses the best route, guiding the column. All the others have to follow him about one metre apart, walking in exactly the same spots he did. That might seem difficult, but actually you learn fast and soon it becomes natural. You get used to walking without thinking too much about it. It must look funny from the outside, an entire group perfectly imitating the movements of the first person in the line, as if they were all mocking him. It's a good system for the soldiers' safety – the group moves compactly and it becomes difficult to see from far away because it's as if everyone were hiding behind one another. But it also has some negative aspects; besides forcing the soldiers to move slowly, if there's a sudden attack it takes a lot of time before you can take up proper defensive positions.

Usually our infantry units and paratroopers moved according to a formation called ‘chess'; with at least three metres' distance between one soldier and the next, and each soldier moving quickly and independently, it was important to maintain the same direction. If they were attacked, the men had enough room to drop to the ground and set up a position. There were still disadvantages: the group was highly visible, and in unknown territory the risk of blowing up was higher. Often anti-personnel mines would be placed on the sides of the road, precisely to catch those moving in ‘chess' formation.

Each military unit followed the tactic chosen by its
commander, but obviously each commander was different – each had his own war experiences behind him, and therefore used the solutions he considered the safest. Nosov said that the millipede formation was the most used in Afghanistan, especially on the mountain roads where there were many mines. We saboteurs all had complete faith in our captain, because his unit was the only one in which nobody had died since it had been formed. We felt protected, which was crucial in war because, as Nosov often said:

‘The soldier who feels defenceless is already halfway dead.'

After another hour of marching we reached the valley.

A soft wind blew on our faces, and it was very pleasant. It had stopped raining almost entirely, and the horizon could be seen in the distance. We still had a few hours of darkness before the dawn.

We took another break, sitting in a circle under a split rock. Nobody spoke. We passed the canteen around in silence, trying to recover our strength.

The explorer lieutenant and Nosov were bent over the map. They spoke in low voices, discussing our route.

‘It's dangerous to go down too low,' Lieutenant Razumovsky said, worried. ‘We risk running right into the enemy . . .'

‘That's true,' Nosov replied. ‘But we can't go up either. We don't know the area and time is tight . . .'

In the end the two decided to send a small group on recon.

It was a pretty safe method, but often the soldiers who were in the recon group – who never carried heavy weapons in order to move more easily – took an enormous risk. If they ran into an enemy encampment they had to able to retreat quickly, and sometimes (especially during night battles) on the way back to their positions they would run into friendly fire. To avoid these sorts of accidents, usually when it came time to retreat, the soldiers communicated with flashlights from the distance. We didn't use a radio because it was a direct route to death: every frequency was monitored by the enemy.

The soldiers communicated by flashlight with a very specific code. To indicate that they were returning to base was three short flashes, at ten to twenty-second intervals, to which the rest of the company was supposed to respond with the same intermittent red light. Two short flashes meant that the group was staying in position for the moment; a single long flash meant that the enemy had been spotted; a short flash was used to tell the main group to join the others. Flashlights were used at short distances: fifty metres, two hundred at most. In open spaces, with few obstacles, like fields or areas near rivers, you could also go a little further, whereas in the city, the woods, or in underground tunnels, it was better to stay close by because the risk of losing visual contact was very high.

Communication in war is a strange thing. Lots of important decisions – the ones that can cost the lives of many people, including yours – are made on the basis of things
like a series of signals made with a flashlight. You have to blindly trust whoever is sending those signals, because at that moment he's the eyes and ears of the whole group. Personally, I didn't really like the idea of depending on someone else, but in situations like that you didn't have many alternatives. Trust was the only thing that made you and your comrades act as one big organism.

Nosov didn't really trust the skill levels of men in other units, especially if he didn't know them very well or they'd never been with him on an operation. And so that time in the mountains, he decided that the group to go on recon would be composed of three of us: Moscow, Deer and Spoon. Zenith, Shoe, Nosov and I would stay with the infantrymen. Some of them helped us, carrying the heavy stuff our guys had been carrying until then – grenade launchers, a few bags of hand grenades and various gear.

Leaving our refuge under the split rock, we headed off, hugging the mountain, and then we entered a young forest. The path was steep; you could feel your legs bending with strain. The group ahead of us signalled for us to stop, so we lay on the ground while the tireless Nosov sat and waited for the next signal, which punctually arrived a few minutes later. We proceeded very slowly, moving with the utmost care. In the mountains it's as if every sound is magnified; the human voice carries a greater distance than normal, especially if there's a lot of moisture in the air. For this reason it's also easier to make mistakes, and a noise that seems far away can actually be close or vice versa, according to how the echo ricochets off the rocks and gets muffled or amplified by the trees or other external
factors. Even one's vision can be fooled by particular optical effects, and subjects can seem closer through a rifle scope. This type of operation requires total concentration, because the mountain is an unforgiving place.

We tried not to make any noise, not to stir the rocks, passing through the bushes in silence and carefully pushing aside tree branches. The dead leaves under our feet were soaked with water, in some places it was like a slide – all it would take was one of us to take a wrong step and we could all fall down like dominoes, going back to where we started from in two seconds. Here and there the path broke off completely, stopping at a wall of rocks and starting again higher up, a couple of metres from the ground. So we helped one another up, passing the load to the person who was already on top, but always without a word and with care as to where we stepped. Despite the cold mountain air, despite the humidity and a faint but constant wind, I felt hot, and my back was covered in sweat.

We went on like that for quite a while, moving through the thick of the forest. Time went by easily – it was always better to be moving than standing around waiting, at least to me.

We climbed for some time and then we suddenly reached a clearing with a narrow road that formed a kind of natural bridge between two mountains. It was a hundred metres long and curved in two places; the path was illuminated brightly by the stars.

We stopped, because the group who had gone ahead on recon was already on the other side of the mountain
and had signalled for us to wait. So Nosov called me over. He was leaning on a tree and looking towards my comrades. Without taking his eyes off them, he said to me in a faint and feeble voice:

‘We're almost there, be ready.'

I got the message. I instinctively reached for my precision rifle.

Our men didn't signal for a while. We waited in silence, though surrounded by the sounds of nature: the wind whistled between the trees, a bird chirped, some stones fell somewhere, in the distance, up high. I was so focused, I noticed a sound that was perhaps water on rocks – there was probably a small stream nearby. Just beyond the edge of the road there was a very steep slope covered in trees and bushes. I tried to look down, but from where I was I could hardly see anything.

Fighting in a place like that would be very difficult – how nice it would have been to spend that night and the following day exploring the area without ever seeing anyone, and then just go back to base . . . at which point the inspectors from the prosecutor's office, who were probably already on the scene, would cancel our operation. It would be so amazing to just coast through for once, without having to risk our hides in the middle of the mountains, I said to myself, daydreaming . . .

Suddenly Nosov pulled me away from my thoughts, giving me a little tap on the head, and when I looked
towards our group I saw the red light, which stayed on for a long time. That could only mean one thing: they had found the enemy positions. A moment later, on the road between the two mountains, I saw some shadows moving towards us. They were moving very fast, sliding flat against the mountain. Nosov was still, concentrating. The shadows came closer. I recognised Moscow first, followed by the others. You couldn't even hear their steps, it almost seemed like they were flying instead of walking.

Resolute, Moscow entered the glen and sat down next to Nosov, as if he'd known where our captain was in advance. The others gathered round him.

‘Right past the road there's a stream,' Moscow whispered, a slight tremor in his voice. ‘They've planted four mines; we pulled out two, and we left the others where they were, but defused . . . The Czechs are about two hundred metres further down. The stream goes over their position; there, they have two guards. They're very calm, they're talking at normal volume, joking around . . . As I approached I caught a strong smell of hash. I went past them without any trouble and went down to their camp. There's about forty men. They lit a fire and covered it with a light tarp; I could see their barracks in the distance. Some of them were sleeping, others smoking, there were lots of Arabs, a few Czechs . . .' Moscow paused for a second, as if he were trying to remember something.

‘What about the weapons?' Nosov asked him.

Moscow went off again like a spring:

‘So . . . I saw four heavy machine guns, two with night scopes. One Arab was sleeping next to an RPG. They
have bags everywhere with charges for grenade launchers. Some of the Arabs are very well equipped, I saw one soldier with an unusual oar,
*
definitely designer. That's all I could see . . .'

Nosov put a hand on his shoulder, as if to thank him. Then he stood up and went over to the infantry lieutenant. My comrades seemed excited; it was clear that the presence of the enemy electrified them. I asked Moscow what he thought of the situation. He looked at me:

‘We could position ourselves above the stream – it's full of rocks, it seems like a good place. They're not waiting for us up there. I'm sure they have another group further down towards the valley, but if we can get rid of these ones, the others won't have any support . . . We can kill the guards without making a sound, plant mines around their camp and then bury them in lead; with the grenade launchers, hand grenades and our machine guns we should be able to take care of them in a flash. There aren't many of us, and so we'll be able to move faster than them . . .'

The idea of destroying them in a single strike was a very good one, but – as often happened in that war – anything that seemed easy became hard as soon as it was put into practice. There were only fourteen of us, very few compared to the number that were certainly hiding in those mountains . . . Attacking such a large group, without precise information on the location of their other units, was really very dangerous.

I looked up. The forest was immersed in darkness, breathing loud. The trees seemed alive, like people – ruffled by the wind, the branches did a strange dance, a constant hypnotic motion. It was unquestionably a gorgeous, enchanting place. It's a shame we had to see it through war, which manages to make even the most beautiful and extraordinary things in this world horrific.