"Valery Gorban. The taste of war " - читать интересную книгу автора

least he didn't break his leg! The rest of the troops also flash through the
air like spotted ghosts and melt away at the same spot. It takes only a
second or two, and no one is left onboard. Only wary barrels peer out from
behind the concrete panels by the curb, pointing toward that treacherous
building. But not all of them: Two of my automatic riflemen train their
weapons on the unidentified individuals in camouflage, who have hunkered
down behind their Uazik and placed their automatic weapons on the ground.
"We're friendlies, and one of us is wounded!"
The moment my guys dismount, Winnie steps on the gas and moves our Ural
into cover by a private home. The Ural hugs the wall, awaiting my orders.
Sergeant Chavycha, a combat sniper by specialty and an individual of
rare composure, glues himself to the sight of his rifle.
"Range - three hundred, Commander."
"Student" is also on the alert, though he is young soldier on his first
tour of duty here.
"On the five-story building, at the rear!"
There he is! A hunched, black figure flashes along the edge of the roof
and takes cover behind its rim.
Good job, Student!
"Target: The roof of an industrial building, range - three hundred
meters! Grenade launchers - fire! Fifth story, third window on the left, an
automatic rifleman, Chavycha - zap him! At the rear, on the roof of the
right-hand five-story building. Babadya - take him out!"
The accuracy of the first volley from the grenade launchers varies. One
round falls short, but two burst right on target. No one can explain how
each individual determines his own hit with volley fire, yet splashes of
black smoke from the second volley envelop the entire roof.
Chavycha's sniper rifle cracks twice, and the roar of Babadya's
machine-gun follows it. Then there is silence. My troops sit behind cover,
and all of them comb the sector to the front with their cold, professional
eyes. Gone are the days when, out of fear or passion, they would lash out at
the whole area in response to a single shot, exhausting their ammunition.
The Chechen fighters also keep quiet. Evidently, they understand whom they
are dealing with. Maybe they have withdrawn, but maybe they are just waiting
for us to let our guard down and cluster in a group by the vehicle...
While there is a break in the action, we need to inform the detachment
that we have run into trouble.
"Base, this is Serpent."
"Base is up."
"We are taking fire in the area near the car market, on...some street."
Who the fuck knows what street! There is a private housing area in
front of us, but I can't make out the street signs behind the trees. And
severely damaged, blackened five-story buildings.
"I can't determine my exact position. About a kilometer from you in the
direction of the former Blockpost 20. When you approach, we'll mark our
position with signal flares."
"Hold on, brothers! We'll be right there!"
OK, now we'll attend to our voluntary prisoners.
Those two have their identification documents in order, but we don't
trust paper here. Something else is more important - the left side of their