45th Separate Guards Special Purpose Airborne Regiment. Get to forty-five. Airborne special forces weapons

A report from a correspondent who was lucky enough to get to the location of a unit of the 45th Airborne Special Forces Brigade.

There are no random people in the special forces; they come here only of their own free will. At the same time, not everyone who expresses a desire to become a special forces soldier is accepted into a special forces unit.

“The selection of future special forces from among the conscripts begins with studying their personal files,” says Lieutenant Colonel Vladimir Fridlander, deputy brigade commander for work with guard personnel. “The brigade officers specially go to the military registration and enlistment offices for this purpose. If possible, already there, on the ground, with those young men who have expressed a desire to serve in special forces, conversations are held, their moral and business qualities are studied, and the level of physical fitness is checked.

Before conscription into other units, recruits do not pass physical training standards. However, the 45th Airborne Special Forces Brigade is a special unit, with much higher requirements for the strength, speed, agility and endurance of a fighter.

As you know, conscripts at military registration and enlistment offices undergo psychological tests. However, upon arrival from the military registration and enlistment office to the 45th Brigade, each recruit is tested again. It is extremely important to identify in advance the guys who are not up to the task of being a special forces soldier. After all, they will be able to master another military specialty in the Airborne Forces or another branch or branch of the Armed Forces. Strict selection is in the interests of both conscripts, the 45th brigade, and the army as a whole.

Productive selection for special forces is facilitated by the active interaction of the brigade command with the military-patriotic clubs of the country, especially with the main military-patriotic organization - DOSAAF of Russia. For example, in the Belgorod region they successfully prepare young men for service in the Airborne Forces; Belgorod graduates of the DOSAAF school last year staffed an entire company of the 45th brigade.

Those wishing to enter the 45th airborne brigade under contract, if before that they served in other airborne or air assault units, the requirements of the special forces " input control“They know from the very beginning, since the officers of the brigade, going to other units and formations of the winged guard, talk about them in detail. It is more difficult for those who come from units of other branches of the armed forces and branches of the Armed Forces or from the “civilian” community.

Upon arrival at the brigade, a candidate for contract service passes physical training, then he is immediately subjected to psychological testing. The main task when taking physical training tests is to objectively reveal the capabilities and potential of the candidate. After exercises for speed (running 100 m), strength (pull-ups on the crossbar) and endurance (3 km), three sparring fights are held for three minutes. This is where the strong-willed qualities are revealed: this is when the candidate, missing a blow, falls, but then gets up and continues to fight to the end.

“There are quite a lot of cases when we have to inform the military registration and enlistment office that the recommended candidate is not suitable for us,” Lieutenant Colonel Friedlander says with regret to the Guard. – Military registration and enlistment offices should be more strict in selecting candidates for our brigade.

Careful selection of personnel, a healthy moral environment in the brigade units and, of course, care from the state contribute to the fact that about 90 percent of contract soldiers enter into repeated contracts.

Benefits include an increased salary, taking into account various bonuses (for completing the parachute jumping program, for successfully passing physical training standards, etc.), the possibility of distance learning at Moscow State University. M.V. Lomonosov and other leading universities in Moscow, the right to a mortgage after concluding a second contract. On average, a contract private, having served for three years, receives 35–40 thousand rubles monthly.

It is almost impossible to serve in special forces from year to year as a private or contract sergeant or officer without a love for military craft. In addition, having fully experienced the hardships and hardships during training sessions, when you have to hide in an ambush for several days, and when performing combat missions, special forces groups become monolithic teams from which you do not want to leave. How many friends and acquaintances does the average young compatriot have with whom he can go on reconnaissance? With the dominance of correspondence communication by phone, Skype or on social networks, young people have forgotten how to communicate in person, let alone make friends. When they get into trouble, they may think about the value of friends who can rush to the rescue, especially if there are no such friends. And in a special forces group, everyone is ready to pull a wounded comrade out of the heat or even lay down their life for their own.

And in general, the brigade is one family, where their own people are never abandoned. And after being wounded, many are looking for a position, helping in every possible way to find a worthy and feasible job again. This was the case, for example, with the holder of two Orders of Courage, warrant officer Vadim Selyukin, who lost his legs while performing a combat mission. Now he is the captain of the Russian Paralympic sledge hockey team.

Practice convinces: even advanced technology of the 21st century will not completely replace ground-based deep reconnaissance, and will not diminish its capabilities and role

To the skies - with a “soft jellyfish”

The special forces jokingly say: “I arrived at the place - everything is just beginning”.

Dropping behind enemy lines by parachute is just one of the options for delivering reconnaissance officers to the task site. Of course, this method is not easy and requires concentration from the soldier when studying a set of actions called airborne training.

The brigade makes parachute jumps D-10, "Arbalet-1" and "Arbalet-2", and the last two systems have a gliding dome-"wing". Airborne special forces are taught to land with a parachute on any surface: a field, a forest, the roof of a building , pond... Jumps are made during the day, at night and in difficult weather conditions. Therefore, airborne training in the 45th Brigade is one of the main subjects of training. This is where the combat training of both an ordinary paratrooper and an airborne special forces soldier begins.

“Airborne training includes studying the equipment - a parachute and safety devices, packing a parachute and training at an airborne complex, where the elements of a jump, actions in the air, preparation for landing and the landing itself are practiced,” explains the deputy brigade commander for airborne training Guard Lieutenant Colonel Oleg Rekun.

Recruits, as well as those who decided to throw in their lot with the airborne special forces, signed a contract, but had never jumped with a parachute before, are prepared for the first jump for two weeks.

The laying of D-10 parachutes takes place in 6 stages, the paratroopers pack the parachute together, the packing dynamics are controlled by the unit commanders and the airborne forces officer. At each stage, triple control is required, almost like in astronaut training. There is no room for error, because a person will be alone in the air and there will be no one to tell him anything.
Of the two parachute systems used in the brigade, the D-10 is easier to stow and operate in the air. The method of preparing for jumps with this parachute has long been worked out.

“When a serviceman leaves an aircraft, he has a neutral canopy, that is, a parachute that does not move horizontally or (in the wind) almost does not move,” Lieutenant Colonel Rekun explains to the Guard. – Accordingly, the paratrooper’s release point differs little from the landing point: it is vertical. By and large, nothing depends on the parachutist: where he was thrown is where he will land.

“Crossbow” has a different quality. From a kilometer altitude you can go 4–5 km to the side, using only the performance characteristics of the parachute, in complete calm. At strong wind a paratrooper from a kilometer altitude will be able to move 6–7 km from the drop point.

D-10 is designed for mass landing. And any special forces soldier first masters self-control in the air on this parachute.

Subsequently, according to the instructions of the commander of the Airborne Forces, Hero of Russia, Colonel General Vladimir Shamanov, after 25 jumps on the D-10, the serviceman is allowed to operate the Crossbow. In this case, at least seven jumps must be long.

“Preparation for jumping with Crossbow-2 lasts about 20 days,” says Oleg Dmitrievich. “The special forces are studying equipment in a new way, learning how to pack a parachute and mastering airborne operations at the airborne complex.

There are as many people in the 45th Brigade who own the Crossbow as they should be. Among them there are virtuosos. From an altitude of about 4000 m they flew away, gliding for 17 kilometers. Currently, experimental operation of oxygen equipment is being carried out, which in the future, when put into service, will allow landing from a height of more than 4 km. Accordingly, the planning range will increase.

“In addition to the Arbalet-1, the brigade also has the Arbalet-2 parachute system, which is easier to operate,” Lieutenant Colonel Rekun continues the guard’s story. – A stabilizing system is rigidly mounted on it, which is activated automatically, which guarantees that the parachutist who has left the plane or helicopter, in case of emergency, rotates only in the horizontal plane. A random fall with vertical rotation is eliminated.

But on “Crossbow-1”, instead of a stabilizing system, the so-called “ soft jellyfish", which the parachutist puts into action himself, after which the opening of the main parachute begins. And it takes even longer to prepare a serviceman for jumping on the Crossbow-1, taking into account the fact that the paratrooper is thrown out with weapons, equipment and cargo containers.

Military tests of the Arbalet-2 parachute system took place at the base of the 45th Brigade. In the equipment of each specialty that is in the Airborne Forces, taking into account the characteristics of its weapons and equipment, they made at least 10 jumps. That is, the special forces dressed up as paratroopers-signalmen, then as sappers, then as grenade launchers, etc. There were fewer people in the selected group than there were specialties. As a result, each person performed about 180 jumps during the tests. Well, the undisputed record holders are members of the unit’s non-standard sports parachute team. It includes four Honored Masters of Sports, one of them has already completed more than 11 thousand jumps.

The combat training program requires each member of a special forces brigade to make at least 10 jumps per year. The "crossbowmen" jump with their own parachutes, the rest - with the D-10. The tasks are performed in a variety of ways.

Without noise and fire

In the 45th Brigade, unit commanders persistently remind the soldiers: “Where the shooting begins, reconnaissance ends”. Especially deep. It is the collection of intelligence information that is the main task of special forces groups. Quietly, observing the rules of camouflage, detecting an object without noise or shots, transmitting its coordinates and leaving in the same silent manner - this is the special forces style.

However, today it is possible to detect the desired enemy object using unmanned aerial vehicles or satellites. Is advanced technology of the 21st century capable of replacing ground-based deep reconnaissance?

– Completely unlikely. Firstly, a special forces group will still direct strike weapons at a number of strategic targets,” says Lieutenant Colonel Vladimir Seliverstov, deputy commander of the 45th brigade, Hero of Russia Guard. “Secondly, after operations in the air and artillery preparation, a ground operation will still begin, where special forces units will be primarily involved, which will undergo sabotage and ambush operations. Special forces always work targeted...

- IN last years the list of tasks assigned to special forces has increased significantly,” continues Vladimir Vyacheslavovich. “I never thought about some of them before that they would become ours.”

Basic qualities of a paratrooper

The expansion of the range of tasks affects the content of combat training; it changes. However, the main basis of special forces has been and remains unchanged. This, according to the deep conviction of Guard Lieutenant Colonel Seliverstov, is discipline. Fire, physical, tactical-special, engineering training in relation to the discipline is a superstructure. With insufficient, for example, tactical and special training, special forces are bad. In the absence of discipline, there is no special forces at all.

“Discipline,” says the deputy brigade commander, “is precision, punctuality in everything: in time, place and actions.”

In the 45th separate guards brigade discipline is not stick-based - conscious. Including because every special forces soldier knows: violators are not detained in this unit. As the commander of the Hero of Russia Guards brigade, Colonel Vadim Pankov, later explained

A serviceman who has to be punished for misconduct should not and will not serve in the 45th Special Forces Brigade.

Another quality that a special forces officer must have is initiative and readiness to make decisions.

The principles of learning are known: from theory to practice, from simple to complex. Practical classes are conducted on different terrain during the day and at night. A special forces soldier spends at least half of his service time in the field.

Traditions and innovations of the Airborne Forces

New weapons in the brigade include BTR-82A, drones and something else. Everything is in perfect working order.

“What was in the 45th regiment ten years ago and what has appeared now is heaven and earth,” Lieutenant Colonel Seliverstov, who served in the 45th “economy” for 15 years, states to the guard.

When the unit solved problems in the Caucasus in the early 2000s, the officers invested personal funds in equipment for the soldiers, recalls Vladimir Vyacheslavovich. Now the personnel are fully provided with clothing and equipment.

“The equipment is very decent,” notes the deputy brigade commander. – Of course, there is no limit to perfection, but now a fighter, for example, has a choice of uniforms taking into account weather conditions, which allows him to both complete the task and maintain his health. The same can be said about nutrition. Shifts in clothing and food supplies are noticeable to anyone.

Episodes from recent history

• In August 2008, brigade personnel participated in an operation to force Georgia to peace.
• At that time, the story of the seizure of SUVs supplied to the Georgian army by the Americans received great resonance. So, these trophies are on the account of the Airborne Special Forces.
• In April 2010, the battalion tactical group of the brigade ensured the safe evacuation of our fellow citizens, including family members of military personnel and civilian personnel, due to unrest in Kyrgyzstan.
• In the spring of 2014, brigade personnel as part of a separate reconnaissance detachment took part in the operation to return Crimea to Russia.
• The names of 14 Heroes of Russia are inscribed in the chronicle of the 45th Brigade. Four of them continue to serve in this glorious formation. Five servicemen of the 45th brigade were awarded three Orders of Courage.

Now they talk a lot in newspapers, on TV, on the Internet about GRU Spetsnaz and Airborne Special Forces. Since these two communities of military professionals are very similar, we will try to figure out how they differ for an inexperienced person who is far from all this.

Let's start with a historical excursion. Who came first? GRU special forces definitely in 1950. Since a lot of tactical preparations and other features were borrowed from the partisan actions of the Great Patriotic War, then it is still fair to designate its unofficial appearance as the second half of the thirties of the last century. The first sabotage groups of the Red Army successfully operated in the war in Spain. And if you look at an even earlier historical period, when the need to conduct sabotage operations forced many countries of the world (including Russian Empire) keep completely autonomous “infiltration” units in their armies, then the origins of the appearance of GRU special forces go back to the “mist of centuries.”

Airborne special forces appeared in 1930, along with the Airborne Forces. With the very first landing near Voronezh, when there was an obvious need to start our own reconnaissance. Paratroopers cannot simply land in the “paws of the enemy,” someone must shorten these “paws,” break off the “horns,” and file down the “hooves.”

Main goals. GRU special forces - conducting reconnaissance and sabotage (and some other, sometimes delicate) operations behind enemy lines at a distance of 1000 km. and further (how long the radio communication range is enough) to solve problems General Staff. Previously, communication was on short waves. Now on short and ultra-short satellite channels. The communication range is not limited by anything, but still, in some corners of the planet there are “dead zones”; there is no mobile, radio or satellite communication at all. Those. It’s not for nothing that a stylized image of the globe is often found on GRU symbols.

Airborne Special Forces - essentially the “eyes and ears” of the Airborne Forces, are part of the Airborne Forces themselves. Reconnaissance and sabotage units operating behind enemy lines to prepare for the arrival and preparation of the landing (if there is such a need) of the main forces ("cavalry"). Capturing airfields, sites, small bridgeheads, solving related problems with the capture or destruction of communications, related infrastructure, and other things. They act strictly on orders from the headquarters of the Airborne Forces. The range is not as significant as that of the GRU, but it is also impressive. The main airborne aircraft IL-76 is capable of covering 4000 km. Those. round trip - about 2000 km. (we do not consider refueling, although the range in this case increases significantly). Therefore, airborne special forces operate behind enemy lines at a distance of up to 2000 km.

Let's continue the research. The issue with the uniform is interesting. At first glance everything is the same. Berts, camouflages, vests, blue berets. But this is only at first glance. Take, for example, the beret. This piece of clothing is of medieval origin. Pay attention to ancient paintings by artists. All beret owners wear them asymmetrically. Either right or left. It is unofficially customary for GRU special forces and airborne special forces to wear a beret curved to the right. If you suddenly see a special forces soldier in an airborne uniform and with a beret curved to the left, then he is just an ordinary paratrooper. The tradition began from the time of the first parades with the participation of the Airborne Forces, when it was necessary to open the face as much as possible to the podium, and this can only be done by bending the beret to the left side of the head. But there is no reason to reveal intelligence.

Let's move on to the signs. During the Great Patriotic War, the Airborne Forces made many landings and airborne operations. Many awarded heroes. Including the Airborne Forces units themselves were awarded the title of Guards (almost all). During that war, the GRU special forces were already at the stage of formation as an independent branch of the military, but were outside the legal framework (and in general everything was secret). Therefore, if you see a paratrooper, but without the “Guard” badge, then with almost 100% certainty it is GRU special forces. Only a few GRU units bear the rank of Guards. For example, the 3rd Separate Guards Warsaw-Berlin Red Banner Order of Suvorov III Art. Special Forces brigade GRU.

About food. Those. about food. GRU special forces, if they are in the format (i.e. under the guise of) a unit of airborne troops, receive uniforms, clothing allowances, monetary allowance, and all due hardships and hardships, both in sickness and in health, and food, strictly in accordance with the norms of the Airborne Forces.
Airborne special forces - everything is clear here. These are the airborne troops themselves.

But with the GRU the issue is more tricky, and this detail always creates confusion. A friend wrote to me after the Pechora training of GRU special forces in the eighties. "Everyone, ** ***, arrived at the place, in the company. We are sitting for the first day, ****, we are pairing blue shoulder straps, we were given fuel oil, everything is black, **** today is mourning (((((((. Berets , the vests were also taken away. Am I now in the signal forces or something, *****?" So, we arrived in Germany, in the Western Group of Forces, and changed clothes. We immediately became signalmen. And changed our shoes (laced boots were replaced with regular ones boots). But Germany is small, and our sworn “friends” there are not fools either. They are watching. There is a strange signal company. All signalmen are like signalmen, and these are stirring up something all day long. Either a march is a throw of 20 kilometers, or a ZOMP in full swing, then digging trenches (similar to a comfortable place to lie down in a forest belt behind the highway), then hand-to-hand combat, then shooting all day long, then at night something happens. And how varied and suspicious it all is. They went to jumps secretly in tented bodies to a distant airfield. “And for you, dear, there is a field post office. Forward! The trumpet is calling! Soldiers! On the march!” In short, there is no time for communications here (in the usual sense of signalmen).

In this way, GRU special forces can masquerade (at times successfully) as absolutely any branch of the military (as the Motherland orders, and to what quiet/rotten distance it sends).
Unmasking signs will be numerous badges with sports ranks, parachutist badges, the same vests (stubborn boys will still put them on under any pretext, but you can’t keep an eye on everyone, and it’s good that airborne vests are terribly popular in all branches of the military), tattoos based on the uniform No. 2 (naked torso) again with an airborne theme with an abundance of skulls, parachutes, bats and all kinds of living creatures, slightly weathered muzzles (from frequent running around in the fresh air), always an increased appetite and the ability to eat exotically, or completely artlessly.

An interesting question about another stealth. This touch will give away a special forces soldier who is used to getting to the place of “work” not on comfortable transport with invigorating music, but on his own two feet with all parts of his body worn into calluses. The style of running along gullies with a huge load on your shoulders forces your arms to straighten at the elbows. A longer arm lever means less effort in transporting trunks. Therefore, when one day we first arrived at a unit with a huge concentration of personnel, on our first morning jog we were shocked by the huge number of soldiers (soldiers and officers) who ran with their hands down, like robots. They thought it was some kind of joke. But it turned out not. Over time, my personal feelings about this appeared. Although everything here is strictly individual. Even if you pick your nose with your finger and flap your wings, do what you have to do.

And the most important thing is not this. Clothes are clothes, but what is absolutely identical in both the GRU special forces and the Airborne Special Forces is the eyes. This look is completely relaxed, friendly, with a healthy dose of indifference. But he looks straight at you. Or through you. You never know what to expect from such a subject (only a megaton of trouble, if anything happens). Complete mobilization and readiness, complete unpredictability of actions, logic that instantly turns into “inadequate.” And so in ordinary life quite positive and inconspicuous people. No narcissism. Only a tough and calm focus on the result, no matter how desperately hopeless it turns out to be. In short, for military intelligence this is a kind of philosophical salt of being from time immemorial (lifestyle, that is).

Let's talk about swimming. Airborne special forces must be able to overcome water obstacles. Will there be many obstacles along the way? All sorts of rivers, lakes, streams, swamps. The same goes for GRU special forces. But if we are talking about seas and oceans, then for the Airborne Forces the topic ends here, the diocese begins there Marine Corps. And if they have already begun to distinguish someone, then more precisely, a very specific area of ​​​​activity of the reconnaissance units of the Marine Corps. But the GRU special forces have their own units of brave combat swimmers. Let's reveal a small military secret. The presence of such units in the GRU does not mean that every special forces soldier in the GRU has undergone diving training. Combat swimmers of the GRU special forces are a really closed topic. There are few of them, but they are the best of the best. Fact.

What about physical training? There are no differences here at all. Both the GRU special forces and the Airborne Special Forces still undergo some kind of selection. And the requirements are not just high, but the highest. Nevertheless, in our country there are two of every creature (and there are many who want it). Therefore, it is not surprising that all sorts of random people end up there. Either they read books, watch videos from the Internet with show-offs, or watch enough films. They often have an abundance of sports diplomas, awards, ranks and other things. Then, with such a boiled mess in their heads, they arrive at the place of duty. From the very first forced march (named after the Big Special Forces), enlightenment sets in. Complete and inevitable. Oh, ***, where did I end up? Yes, you got it... For such excesses there is always a reserve of personnel recruited in advance, just for the subsequent and inevitable screening.

Why go far for examples? Finally introduced for the first time in Russian army six-week survival courses for contract soldiers, which end with an examination 50-kilometer field trip, with shooting, overnight stays, saboteurs, crawling, digging and other unexpected joys. First (!). Twenty-five thousand contract soldiers in three military districts were finally able to experience for themselves what the average special forces reconnaissance soldier has always lived with. Moreover, for them it is for “a week before the second”, and in special forces for every day and for the entire period of service. Even before the start (!) of the field deployment, every tenth member of our armed forces personnel turned out to be a calich, a slipper. Or even refused to participate in the safari show for personal reasons. Some parts of the body suddenly press-press.

Therefore, why talk for so long? Survival courses in the conventional army, i.e. something so unusual and stressful is equated to the average way of life of unremarkable ordinary service in the GRU special forces, and in the airborne special forces. There doesn't seem to be anything new here. But special forces also have extreme pastimes. For example, horse racing has been traditionally held for many years. In ordinary language - competitions between reconnaissance and sabotage groups of different brigades, different military districts, and even different countries. The strongest fight the strongest. There is someone to follow by example. There are no longer any standards or limits of endurance. At the full limit of the human body's capabilities (and far beyond these limits). It is precisely in the GRU special forces that these events are very common.

Let us sum up our story. In this article, we did not pursue the goal of dumping stacks of documents from staff briefcases on the reader, nor were we hunting for some “fried” events and rumors. There must be at least some secrets left in the army. However, it is already clear that in form and content the GRU special forces and the Airborne special forces are very, very similar. We were talking about the real Big Special Forces, which is ready to carry out the assigned tasks. And they do. (And any group of military special forces can be in “autonomous navigation” from several days to several months, occasionally making contact at a certain time.)

Recently, exercises took place in the USA (Fort Carson, Colorado). First. Representatives of special forces took part in them Russian Airborne Forces. They showed themselves and looked at their “friends”. Whether there were representatives of the GRU there, history, the military and the press are silent. Let's leave everything as it is. And it doesn't matter. One interesting point.
Despite all the differences in equipment, weapons and approaches to training, joint exercises with the Green Berets demonstrated an absolutely amazing similarity between representatives of special forces (the so-called special operations forces based on parachute units) in different countries. But don’t go to a fortune teller; you even had to go overseas to get this long-unclassified information.

As is fashionable now, let’s give the floor to bloggers. Just a few quotes from the blog of a man who visited the 45th Airborne Special Forces Regiment during an open press tour. And this is a completely unbiased view. Here's what everyone found out:
“Before the press tour, I was afraid that I would have to communicate mainly with oak special forces soldiers who beat off the last of their brains by breaking bricks on their heads. This is where the collapse of the stereotype happened...”
“Immediately another parallel stamp dissipated - the special forces are not at all two-meter big men with bullish necks and pound fists. I think I won’t be lying too much if I say that our group of bloggers, on average, looked more powerful than the airborne special forces group...”
"...during the entire time I was in the unit, out of hundreds of military men there, I did not see a single big guy. That is, absolutely not a single one...".
“...I didn’t suspect that the obstacle course could be more than a kilometer long and its complete completion could take an hour and a half...”
"...Although at times it really seems like they are cyborgs. I don’t understand how they carry such heaps of equipment for a long time. Not everything has been laid out here yet, there is no water, food and ammunition. The most basic cargo is missing!.. ".

In general, such drool does not need comments. They come, as they say, from the heart.

(From the editors of 1071g.ru let’s add about the obstacle course. In 1975-1999, at the very height of the Cold War between the USSR and the USA and later, there was an obstacle course in the Pechora special forces training of the GRU. The officially common name throughout the GRU Special Forces is “trail reconnaissance officer." The length was about 15 kilometers, the terrain was well used, there were ups and downs, there were impassable areas, forests, water barriers, some in Estonia (before the collapse of the Union), some in the Pskov region, a lot of engineering structures for classes. Two educational battalion (9 companies, in others up to 4 platoons, this is about 700 people + a school for warrant officers of 50-70 people) could disappear there in small units (platoons and squads) for days at any time of the year and in any weather, day and night. Not only did the units not intersect, but they might not have made visual contact at all. The cadets ran “to their heart’s content”, now they are dreaming about it. A fact based on real events.)

Today in Russia there are only two, as we found out, exactly the same (with the exception of some cosmetic details) special forces. These are GRU special forces and airborne special forces. To carry out tasks without fear, without reproach, and anywhere on the planet (by order of the Motherland). No more, from those legally authorized by all kinds international conventions, there are no divisions. Forced marches - from 30 kilometers with calculations or more, push-ups - from 1000 times or more, jumping, shooting, tactical and special training, development of stress resistance, abnormal endurance (on the verge of pathology), narrow-profile training in many technical disciplines, run, run, and run again.
Complete unpredictability by opponents of the actions of reconnaissance groups (and each fighter individually, in accordance with current situation). The skills to instantly assess a situation and also make decisions instantly. Well, act (guess how quickly)...

By the way, is the dear reader aware that the special forces of the Airborne Forces and the special forces of the Main Intelligence Directorate of the General Staff of the Ministry of Defense took on the burden of military intelligence during the entire war in Afghanistan? There the now famous abbreviation “SpN” was born.

In conclusion, let's add. Any law enforcement agencies and departments, from the FSB to small private security companies, are ready to accept the “graduates” of the harsh school of the Special Forces of the Airborne Forces and the Special Forces of the GRU with open arms. This does not mean at all that the Big Spetsnaz is ready to accept employees of any law enforcement agencies, even with an impeccable track record and the most high level preparation. Welcome to the club of real men! (If you are accepted...).

This material was prepared based on the RU Airborne Forces forum, various open sources, the opinions of professional experts, the blog gosh100.livejournal.com (credit to the blogger from military intelligence officers), reflections (based on personal experience) of the author of the article. If you have read this far, thank you for your interest.

Among the units of the Russian Airborne Special Forces, the 45th Separate Guards Order of Kutuzov Order of Alexander Nevsky Special Purpose Regiment, or military unit No. 28337, occupies a special place. Firstly, some of them belong to the elite special forces troops, which are almost completely transferred to a contract basis. Secondly, there is simply enormous competition among conscripts who want to join the ranks of military unit 28337. And thirdly, the 45th Special Purpose Regiment is the youngest of the Airborne Forces Russian Federation.

Story

The military unit, formed on the basis of two separate battalions in February 1994, is currently stationed in the city of Kubinka, Moscow region (former academic town). In 2007, the unit was reorganized into the linear 218th special forces battalion, but in 2008 the name of the 45th separate one was returned to it. guards regiment.
Despite the fact that military unit 28337 was formed 10 years ago, its soldiers and officers took part in the fighting in Chechnya and South Ossetia (August 2008).

Youth competitions are regularly held at the base of the military unit. The special forces group, formed on the basis of the regiment, has also been participating in international competitions between special forces units since 1995. The military unit regularly holds demonstrations in parachute jumping and hand-to-hand combat at events in Moscow and the region.

Awards

1996 – 3rd place in the overall competition of the Partnership for Peace program (Bulgaria);

1997 – champion of the “Partnership for Peace” program competition (Bulgaria);
2005 – Challenge Battle Banner, rank “Guards”, Order of Alexander Nevsky (from the disbanded 119th Guards Parachute Regiment);
February 2011 – Order of Kutuzov “For the successful completion of combat missions of the command and the courage and heroism shown by the regiment personnel.”

Eyewitness impressions

Currently, there are practically no soldiers on active duty in military unit 28337; it is being transferred to a contract basis. The contract is for a period of three years, the criteria for selecting fighters are moral, physical and psychological preparation, as well as the ability to react in difficult situations and the desire to serve in special conditions.

In order to enter into a contract for military service in the 45th Guards Regiment, the candidate is required to:

• Be between 18 and 40 years old and have Russian citizenship;
• Have a certificate of form A-1 for health reasons;
• Submit a report or statement of desire to serve in the Airborne Special Forces, indicating the unit;
• Arrive at the unit itself and undergo an interview with the regiment commander and the head of the personnel department;
• Pass physical fitness tests (pull-up, cross-country standards, etc.);
• Pass psychological tests for service compatibility in special airborne units.

Such demands do not stop almost anyone - military unit 28337, judging by the reviews, even attracts girls. True, few people want to go to “hot spots” and pass physical training standards, but there are plenty of people who want to work in a first-aid post, as a psychologist or as a radio operator in the unit.
Those rare representatives of the fair sex who serve in the ranks of the 45th Separate Guards Regiment undergo the same training as men and live in similar conditions. However, many contract soldiers with families are provided with housing in the garrison.

The paratroopers do not have part of the barracks; its function is performed by the soldiers' dormitory. It consists of several blocks (two adjacent rooms, designed for 4-6 people in each). The soldiers' dormitory has showers, toilets, Gym, recreation room and classrooms for military training.
Eyewitnesses say that military unit 28337 currently includes two battalions. One of them is engaged in providing support for the regiment, and the second is training fighters.
Those who served in the military unit also note that talking on the phone with relatives in the evening is allowed here.

During the training period, mobile phones are kept by the company commander.
Shoes are issued along with the uniform, but you can purchase them yourself. Jumping boots made by foreign armies are allowed.

As for classes, special forces paratroopers of military unit 28337 master not only practical skills, but also a theoretical course in military affairs. However, more attention is paid to the physical training of soldiers, for example, forced marches over long distances, when soldiers carry equipment and equipment on themselves.
The specific operating conditions of the unit require knowledge of certain military equipment and weapons. Therefore, both domestic models of machine guns and the collection of captured weapons from the Armored Museum in Kubinka are carefully studied by soldiers. The military unit also trains intelligence officers, so field exercises are regularly held.

At the end of February 2000, two airborne special forces groups, reinforced by two Vympel groups, were given the task of taking the heights near the village of Zany and deploying a battalion of paratroopers to them. The operation was led by the chief of staff of the 45th Airborne Regiment, Lieutenant Colonel Alexey Romanov.

We spent the whole day climbing the mountains. We spent the night between the hills on which our blocks were located. The night was hellish: snow, blizzard and severe frost. Four soldiers of the infantry sitting on the heights froze to death. The morning was hellish too - when we moved on, the snow was chest-deep. We walked to the limit of our capabilities, taking turns making our way.

Trampled about ten meters- and the next one goes forward with fresh strength. And so 27 kilometers. On February 28, we finally reached Sharoargun - a fast mountain river. We stopped at altitude 1381. Further on, the mountains were too steep. Having climbing equipment, the special forces would have climbed them, but the battalion would not have been able to follow them. Romanov and the group commanders went on reconnaissance closer to the river and discovered the “spirits.”

The firefight was fleeting - the “spirits” did not understand where they were being hit from. On February 29, the order from the Airborne Forces command post did not allow us to continue our journey: the groups were given the task of gaining a foothold at the height. Just at this time, the 6th company of the Pskov Airborne Division was fighting against vastly superior enemy forces. The continuous shooting all day long was clearly heard, but they still didn’t know what exactly was happening. On the night of March 1, while the battle was still going on, a new order was received: to go north. They went out and soon encountered the enemy. The fire contact took place at a considerable distance, but the militants still turned back.

As it will later become known from the stories of the prisoners, in the area of ​​the Argun Gorge, about two and a half thousand militants gathered under the leadership of Khattab to move east. Through Kirov-Yurt, Tsa-Vedeno, Kurchali and Nozhai-Yurt, bandits enter Dagestan to launch large-scale fighting. When this whole wolf pack began to move, the forests between Ulus-Kert and Selmentauzen were simply swarming with militants, with whom the 6th company, special forces and others fought in different places. The Pskovites took the main blow.

Khattab himself led the battle against them, and Basayev was also there, who was carried on a stretcher... On the morning of March 1, when the fighting subsided everywhere, the special forces received the task of reaching height 776, where the company died. According to aerial reconnaissance, the militants took away the bodies of the dead paratroopers. They had to be stopped. On the other hand, about 100 paratroopers advanced to Hill 776 for the same purpose.

In the end, it turned out that the “spirits” really took away the corpses, but only their own. There were so many of them that the bandits had no time for the fallen paratroopers. About thirty dead militants, lightly covered with earth, remained abandoned. Judging by the rugs and writings, they were Arabs. The Chechens took their own. The entire height was plowed with artillery fire - dying, the landing force drew fire on itself.

It was never possible to take those killed from the heights that day. From headquarters it was reported that another fifteen hundred “spirits” were on the way, the forward patrol of which, judging by radio intercepts, was already seeing the paratroopers. We had to retreat and take up defense on one of the nearby heights.

The special forces waited patiently, subduing for the time being the terrible desire for revenge, and then precisely aimed their artillery at the gang walking through the mountains. The militants, stretched along the wooded slopes, trying to maintain camouflage, only occasionally illuminated their path with flashlights and called to each other, imitating the hooting of an eagle owl.

It didn’t help - all that was left of the gang was a mess of human bodies. There was a stench in the Midulkhan tract even two months later. Meanwhile, the battalions themselves reached Zana, and the scouts set off on the return journey. The assignment for three days ended up lasting nine days. Having entered into battle with the “spirits” in the area of ​​Mount Pitkhailan and destroying the captured “Cliff”, the paratroopers finally returned to camp.

At best, only every fifth “spirit” reached Tsa-Vedeno, whose residents, according to the FSB, carried 500 (according to the number of militants) bags of meat and bread to the mountains. More than 70 militants dug in in Selmentauzen, abandoned by residents, will surrender a little later, after negotiations. Another four dozen militants will try to escape through the forests to the east, but will run straight into an ambush set up by special forces, and everyone will die. The special forces had no losses in these operations...

Most of the undead militants, having buried their weapons, have now settled in villages. Terrorists who have shaved their beards are not afraid of any special operations. Everyone, except perhaps Khattab and Basayev and several dozen other “scumbags” hiding in mountain caves, have Russian passports issued in accordance with all the rules.

At the beginning of spring, many were rightfully afraid that the “green stuff” would bloom and there would be no peace from saboteurs. But that did not happen. Why? At least part of the answer to this question is in one of the special forces tents, where samples of trophies obtained in the mountains were awaiting the visit of the Airborne Forces commander for several months.

Only in the spring, soldiers of the Airborne Special Forces Regiment destroyed so many caches and bases that their contents could have been used to arm more than one battalion. Particularly rich loot was taken 7 kilometers south of Khatuni. The well-camouflaged base near the Bass River was given wooden toilets. Everything else - containers with weapons, ammunition, provisions, as well as sleeping quarters for 200-300 militants - was underground.

There they found hundreds of overcoats, cotton uniforms, 82-mm mines, shots for RPGs, AGS and even a 73-mm cannon, as well as another 600 kg of melted TNT, a lot of food and religious literature. And in the grottoes there were two BTR-80 and GAZ-66. For two days the scouts blew up this stuff. However, one of the armored personnel carriers covered in Arabic script reached the camp under its own power and will now serve the special forces.

A year ago, when I heard the song “To the Airborne Special Forces Scout” in the tent of soldiers of the 45th Separate Guards Special Forces Regiment of the Airborne Forces, I at first thought that it was being performed by a professional musician, it sounded so good.

In response to a question about the author of the hit, the soldiers showed me a photo of a tall, strong man in a field uniform and a blue beret: “This is our intelligence officer, he served in a special detachment! Slava Korneev is his name, Leshy is his call sign. He is a holder of the Order of Courage, the medal of the Order of Merit for the Fatherland, II degree, and two medals for courage. Not disguised, not fake, real. And he sings about a matter that he truly knows.”

Intelligence veteran and singer-songwriter Vyacheslav Korneev talks about himself, his service, life and songs.

I was born on February 25, 1976 in the polar city of Kovdor, in the Murmansk region. My school years flew by, and in the spring of 1994 I was drafted into the army. Despite my passionate desire to serve in the airborne troops, they brought me to artillery training in Pargolovo, near St. Petersburg. Trained to be a crew commander anti-tank gun MT-12, awarded the rank of junior sergeant and assigned to the 134th Guards Motorized Rifle Regiment of the 45th Motorized Rifle Division peacekeeping forces, which was based in the village of Kamenka, Vyborg region. The commander of our regiment was Guard Colonel Mikhail Yuryevich Malofeev. On January 17, 2000, he died in Grozny with the rank of major general and was posthumously awarded high rank Hero of Russia.

One night, I, the duty officer at the soldiers' canteen, introduced myself to a passing general and asked to be sent to the Caucasus. Was it reckless? Don't know. Only in response did I hear: “Which unit? Hand over the outfit, run and march to the location! And it started spinning! Obtaining equipment, food. Formation of personnel. The commander reads out the lists of those leaving, but my name is not on this list! Why? Seeing my inflexibility, the commander took the guy out of action, covered in tears, and I took his place. So I became deputy platoon commander leaving for the war.

First impressions

The next day, as part of the battalion, we flew to Mozdok and unloaded at the takeoff. Cold, dirt, crowds of armed people scurrying here and there. Seeing musician Yuri Shevchuk among the soldiers, he made his way to him and asked for an autograph. He did not refuse and signed the top deck of my guitar. We even sang a couple of verses from “The Last Autumn” with him.

We moved to a field next to the takeoff and spent the night. And look in the morning - our battalion is gone! And we, 22 soldiers in bulletproof vests and helmets, with weapons and equipment, were left alone, without officers. Used by no one, wanted by no one!

After holding out for three days without hot food or water, having managed to chew dry rations and burn all the gas masks, overcoats and felt boots, we got hold of cartridges and grenades. They just stood in some kind of formation receiving ammunition and received half a cap of ammunition! They didn’t ask us for our names or force us to sign anywhere. And we stole two boxes of grenades at night from an unguarded caponier, filled to the brim with this stuff.

One day we met a colonel who stopped us in a menacing voice: “Who are they? What kind of herd? I introduced myself and explained. The colonel ordered us to follow him and led us to the bathhouse. After washing, he sent us to the dining room. Clean and well-fed, we boarded the bus and went with the colonel, as it later turned out, to the city of Prokhladny, to the 135th motorized rifle brigade.

In the brigade we were fed, changed clothes, rearmed, and a day later we were sent in a convoy to Chechnya. We didn't drive long, often avoiding public roads and abandoning several broken down cars along the way. Here are the artillery positions... Howitzers and self-propelled guns are hitting deafeningly where our column is crawling, drowning in the mud.

Jumping from the Ural to the ground, I slipped. Taking a stable position, I realized that I was standing on a corpse rolled out in a road rut. Helping the others get out of the car, he warned them to be more careful. A mutilated corpse is what we saw first in Chechnya.
The task assigned to our unit led us to the central market of Grozny. The trucks were closely packed into the courtyard adjacent to the market building, and while we unloaded dry rations, duffel bags and sleeping bags from them, they sadly awaited their sad fate.

Some guy running past, hung with “Flies”, grenades, knives and pistols, nervously adjusting the sawed-off shotgun of a hunting rifle dangling on his hip, attacked me: “You... on... Why did you bring the equipment on... here, motherfucking...? They’ll burn it all.”

Our only armored personnel carrier, it turns out, was burned on the way. Having finished unloading and leaving Mikola Pitersky to guard the dry rations, I went on a reconnaissance tour of the market building. The personnel were dying of thirst, and I discovered deposits of jars of compote! The mines that occasionally pierced the roof were no longer frightening, but my soul was uneasy.

And then it began! One of the first mines flew into the dry rations, burying Mikola Pitersky in them! They dug it up. Alive! Meanwhile, our Urals were already blazing! It's a pity that the guitar burned in the cabin. Someone screams: “They shot down a tank there!” Let's run and look. We carefully look out of the windows. Here he is! Very close! Lit. And suddenly a deafening shot! A shell hits a five-story building. They say that at this time it was stormed by paratroopers. Then - like in a dream. Explosion! We are thrown onto broken glass! When the dust settled, we saw that the tank was gone. Everlasting memory…

After sitting in the market building for a day, we finally received the task of capturing a high-rise building on Karl Liebknecht Street, adjacent to a small market square.

Our new platoon commander outlined the task to us in a very clear form: “Run quickly, without tripping over corpses. Stopping is death! Let’s run into the house and sort it out!”

Let's run. The first of the three nine-story buildings was already occupied by paratroopers, and we got the second one without a fight. No residents, no militants, empty.

My platoon was tasked with gaining a foothold on the sixth floor and preventing the enemy from entering the house through the roof of the neighboring five-story building.
The apartment, the windows of which overlooked the roof of this five-story building, was impressive; it was a very rich apartment.

We emptied the refrigerator and set up an impromptu table in the hallway, but before we had time to pick up open cans of condensed milk for the recent New Year and housewarming, something serious came into the house. The building shook and a fire started. The fire spread so quickly that we barely jumped out of the apartments into the entrance before they burned to the ground, and while the apartments were burning, we sat on the flights of stairs, choking in the smoke, because there was death on the street. There were “spirits” in the third nine-story building.

Sausage

The next day, the commander set the task: “Due to the enemy’s destruction of the entire food supply of the battalion, it is necessary to force our way to the market with the help of four volunteers and a miraculously surviving infantry fighting vehicle of unknown origin. Find there and then take out the maximum amount of food!”

I turned out to be the main volunteer. I decided to involve my squad commanders in this task. Good guys. Reliable. We went down and found an infantry fighting vehicle and even its driver in the ruins of the house. There was no one else in the crew, and the guy had no idea where his unit was located. After listening to the task, the mechanic nodded: “We’ll do it, but... the car doesn’t turn left. The cravings are broken! Let's waltz! Well, turn left, spinning 270 degrees to the right!”

We loaded into the landing force and took off. First turn to the left... spinning... scary. Forward! We're spinning around the second turn. There is no light in the car, we don’t know how to open the hatches from the inside, if anything, it’s creepy! And now, through the roar and clang of the tracks, bullets began to knock on the armor! And suddenly a blow! We crashed! "Everybody is alive? We’ve arrived!” - it was the mechanic who shouted. As it turned out, he rode in the “stowed” position all the way! Under bullets! Well it does! And he said to me: “Why? The triplexes are broken, you can’t see a damn thing!” Hero man!

We ran through the market. It’s empty, our troops have gone somewhere, and we don’t know what to expect. The products were found quickly. Sausage! There was a lot of it. Having filled their mouths with the Krakow soldiers and throwing their machine guns behind their backs, they quickly loaded the landing compartments of the infantry fighting vehicles and their own duffel bags and pockets with sausage. Childish greed played a cruel joke on me. Realizing that the loaded provisions for the battalion were not enough, I decided to leave my guys at the market and, climbing into the turret of the vehicle, personally deliver the cargo and return for the second batch. "Let's go!" - I yelled to the mechanic as soon as I reached the hatch. And he went. Surely so, with afterburner! And he didn’t know, didn’t know that behind his back I, in a bulletproof vest stuffed with sausage and with a plump duffel bag, was trying to get into the tower. By the time we got to the treasured house, I didn’t have a single whole store left! And I threw the empty ones onto the armor.
Having made three raids in a row, we completed the task. Thanks brother mechanic!

Storm

On Friday, January 13, my platoon received orders to occupy one of the houses on Rosa Luxemburg Street. He stood facing presidential palace, and attempts to capture it have so far been unsuccessful. The paratroopers who held out to the last were trapped in his basement, and “spirits” ruled the house.
We ran to our house through a vacant lot between five-story buildings and came under fire. There was nowhere to hide except behind the burnt BMP. The whole platoon crowded in for her, it was scary to go further. But it is necessary, otherwise they will put everyone on the flank. They rushed to the brick booth, a heating center with pipes and valves, and took refuge behind the wall.

We sat at the booth for over an hour, waiting for “Shilka”. She was supposed to cover us by shooting at the windows of the palace. Moreover, we had to run right under the barrage of her fire! Before our eyes, three soldiers from another unit jumped out from somewhere and rushed headlong towards our house! To our entrance! One of them fell a meter from the door, shot by a sniper, and two jumped inside. One threw a rope to the wounded man from the entrance door, but he could not cling to it, the bullets hit him one after another. The second fighter exchanged fire with the militants inside the house.

Suddenly, about twenty meters from us, a mine flies in with a characteristic whistle and explodes! One of ours was hit by shrapnel in the leg. Well, I think, bandaging the wounded, it began! He suggested that the commander position the platoon inside the house: “Probably the “spirits” are adjusting the fire of their mortar at this moment!” The platoon commander voiced the proposal to the battalion commander. The answer is bright: “No, wait, the team will come now! Better check this house for a sniper. Got it, bastard!

Well, we split into three groups, three people in each, ran around the house from the opposite side and jumped into the windows. Purely. When we were returning, we heard two strong explosions in a row on the second floor. About where we just left our platoon. Throw down! And there... Blood, smoke, groans! The squad commander Dan Zolotykh and his troika finished searching his entrance before us, came out, and he was covered - he was lying in blood! The commander, Stas Golda, was wounded. Later, doctors counted eighteen shrapnel wounds on his body, and the Motherland awarded him the Order of Courage.

Where is the signalman, is the station alive? Our P-159 on the chest of Mikola Pitersky took several fragments, but worked properly! “Cutter,” I shout. - “Freza-12”, I have “200” and “300”, I’m checking the quantity, and the commander is wounded! I ask for help in evacuating!” And the battalion commander calmly replies that the command has been given for the assault and that I must gather the healthy ones and complete the task. And he promises to evacuate the wounded, without even asking how many there are. The platoon is consolidated, it is unknown who was assigned and from where, we did not exchange addresses with everyone, we do not know the names of many of them. That's how they fought for their homeland.

Indeed, to the left of us, a Shilka came out for direct fire and roared with fire. I had no choice but to send “Freza” to hell and start helping the bleeding guys. I finally achieved their evacuation. And we completed the task assigned. Blood and sweat. So I became a platoon commander. A platoon of nine people. Minus thirteen!

Then everything went smoothly. Are you ready, Freza-12? Ready, I answer! "Forward!" - shout from the walkie-talkie. What is it like to storm a house with nine people, without smoke cover, not understanding where ours are and where the strangers are? Now I remember all this like a bad dream or scenes from a movie. Covered in blood, black with dirt and soot, behind my back there are seven machine guns left over from the evacuated guys, in the hands of the PKM, shredding the house from forty meters to which my guys are running! Tactics? What the hell are the tactics? We reached the fifth floor, throwing grenades at the doors as we went and sometimes shooting. We have gained a foothold. We counted. All.

Later, when we had to pull out the main forces, we cleared all the apartments in our entrance from top to bottom. Walking down the street at that time was bad manners, so the main forces pulled up to us through the wall, in which we punched a hole with the help of a grenade launcher, some mother and a sledgehammer that came from God knows where!

It was in this house, having “borrowed” his SVD from a friend Sashka Lyutin, on the butt of which there were already three cuts with a bayonet-knife, I became a sniper. He equipped a wonderful, tactically competent position. He settled down in the bathtub, on a stool. For emphasis - a previously emptied refrigerator. From there, through a small hole punched by a shell in the wall, an impressive section of the area in front of the house was shot through, namely, the annex to the presidential palace and part of the palace itself.

One day, marines ran into our house: two officers and a sailor. The sailor, as it turned out, was real, from a warship! Perhaps that's why he almost shot me when I changed position. But the Marines impressed me in other ways. Hunting for live bait! One, standing in the window opening, began to fan out the palace with tracers, and the second, in the back of the room, having prepared an RPG-18 for battle, waited. As an artilleryman, I understood that the guys were walking on a razor's edge, but they were stubbornly lucky. The bite on live bait was excellent, and soon I joined this “fishing team,” and the sailor made sure that none of the fighters came to my bullet while moving around the apartment.

Combat Commonwealth

There was a day when the company commander gave me the task of taking three volunteers and with them finding and evacuating from the street rubble the bodies of two dead - Sergei Les and Dima Strukov from the third platoon. They died a few days ago. Attempts to find them had already been made by the company sergeant major, warrant officer Purtov. Then the “spirits” squeezed him and the fighters behind a pilaster (this is a protrusion from a house the size of two bricks) and began to methodically destroy the shelter, firing incredibly dense fire at it from the house, which we then occupied with a platoon. Together with my fellow countryman Pomor, we pulled them out, covering the retreat with our fire. I will never forget how Warrant Officer Purtov, while running, stumbles, falls, and in the place where he had just been, a machine gun burst bites into the brick...

In general, the task is clear. I am a machine gun on my shoulder, a helmet on my head. I suggest one fighter go, the second, the third, and they - some with a stomach, some with a sudden headache, some from their post. They don’t want to take risks, no matter what. But when the search for volunteers reached the guys from Dagestan, they, without further ado, put their helmet on their cap and off they went, commander! But they didn’t know the dead for whom we had to go! And with this composition, I, two Dagestanis and a Kazakh went on a search.

We found Sergei's body quickly, brought it to that same booth, and then stop. The fire is so dense that it becomes clear that we won’t get through in daylight. Even smoking this damn area. We tried it. We managed to return to the house only in the morning, leaving Sergei in place, but placing the body so that it could be seen from our windows. They were able to pick up and transfer the body to the rear no earlier than a few days later, when the militants left the palace without a fight.

Once, at the height of the fighting in our sector, the battalion commander needed to go to the rear, and he took me with him for protection. The rear units were then located in Lenin Park. Left to my own devices for a while, I wandered around the park, wondering how they live here in tents? What if it's a mine? And suddenly something seemed strange to me. Everywhere I went, everyone froze, stopped preparing firewood, cleaning, and silently looked at me. And there was some kind of reverence in these views, respect mixed with compassion. “Look, look, there’s a guy from the front line!” - I heard and, as if waking up, looked around. Then invitations to warm up in the tents, questions, and congratulations on being alive poured in! "What's the matter?" I ask. “How do you know that I’m from the front line?” “Have you seen yourself in the mirror?” - asks one. "Of course not! Where are the mirrors in the city from? Everything is burned and broken!” - I laugh. “Here, look! People like you are only brought to us dead!” - The soldier, embarrassed, handed me a mirror. Well, I took a look. He looked and got scared. A monster in a dirty, torn black cap with a black, sooty face, burnt stubble and eyebrows, and red, watery eyes looked at me from the mirror.

A little later, when the fighting for the city moved to other neighborhoods, we decided to visit the less damaged entrances to our house. Find something like mattresses. My platoon was lucky to have apartments that burned to the ground, and for the last week I slept on two VOG boxes, without a sleeping bag, of course. Having collected some junk, on the way back to our “temple” we saw an interesting picture: Dudayev’s palace was being dashingly stormed by guys in white camouflage suits and wearing unprecedented unloading gear. Special forces, no less, I thought angrily, a couple of days ago you would have been here!

A decade and a half later, while celebrating the 30th anniversary of the 901st OBSPN with my fellow soldiers, we were watching a Chechen chronicle, when suddenly... The end of our house and the hole made by a shell through which I once fired my first shot from an SVD flashed in the frame. So those guys in camouflage suits turned out to be my current friends! It's a small world!

Then our war began to wane. We stayed for a month in the village of Andreevskaya Dolina at the Central Budgetary Institution, then in Shali. In May, when the war moved into the mountainous regions, our battalion, which had lost more than half of its personnel, was taken to Khankala for rest and replenishment.

At the shooting range in the quarry I met fellow countryman Dima Koksharov. We started talking. He served in the 45th airborne regiment. And the tough guys who were lowering down into the quarry on ropes and performing tactical exercises that were incomprehensible to me at that time with “screw cutters” unprecedented in the infantry turned out to be his colleagues. Cool scouts, I thought, what do I care about them!

New life

In September the war ended for us. The battalion departed in a column to its permanent deployment point in Prokhladny. I was riding on the armor of the trailing infantry fighting vehicle, and all the way a broom tied to the armor was trailing behind us, never to return here. Sign!

Resigned to the reserve. I came to my parents in the Smolensk region. And there is darkness! A depressing impression from a dying village. Unemployment, alcoholism, drug addiction. The youth were engaged in stupid self-destruction.

Only the right decision was a return to the army, and seriously and for a long time. The commander of the 45th Special Operations Division, Colonel Viktor Kolygin, to whom I came for a relationship in 1996, told me: “We don’t take a contract from a civilian, sign up for the Tula division, and we’ll transfer you from there.”

In the 173rd separate reconnaissance company in Tula I heard something similar: “Let’s go to the regimental reconnaissance company first, and then we’ll see.” So, as a reconnaissance officer in the reconnaissance company of the 51st Parachute Regiment, I began my combat career in the Airborne Forces.

During my year of service, I managed to go on a three-month business trip to Abkhazia. For several years in Gudauta, paratroopers carried out a peacekeeping mission, and I made my small contribution to the restoration of peace on the southeastern coast of the Black Sea.

After Abkhazia, the assistant chief of intelligence of the division, Major Sergei Konchakovsky, paid close attention to me. He asked provocative questions, monitored my answers and actions. Soon Konchakovsky invited me to go to Sokolniki and talk with the commander of the special detachment of the 45th regiment, where I left, having secured the necessary recommendations.

Special Squad

Service in a new place captivated and absorbed me completely. I liked everything: the people, the equipment, the weapons, the technology, the approach to conducting training sessions.
When I arrived in Tula for the weekend with a whole backpack of special forces gadgets and in a fashionable padding polyester and told the officers about everything that I had seen and learned during my month of service in special intelligence intelligence, most of them were eager to transfer there. Which they soon did.

the appearance of my call sign - Leshy - is very funny. The commander of the reconnaissance group, Captain Stanislav Konoplyannikov, lined us up, young scouts, and ordered us to come up with call signs for ourselves. I came up with “Leshy”, but did not voice it, for fear of getting into an awkward situation, suspecting that the regiment already had such a call sign. And when the commander, walking around the formation and writing down the call signs he had come up with, stopped in front of me, I told him: “I didn’t come up with it, Comrade Captain.” To which he replied: “Well, then you’ll be Leshy!” Since then, since 1998, I have been Leshy.

In September 1999, we flew to Dagestan, into the heat of the flaring war. They carried out various tasks to reconnaissance the area, search and destroy militant bases. In October, working in the interests of the 61st separate Kirkenes Red Banner Marine Brigade of the Northern Fleet, they were the first to reach the Terek.

October 14, having completed the task of conducting optical reconnaissance settlement S., our group moved to the evacuation area. They walked with increased attention. It always seemed that something was wrong to the left of the course, as if someone was looking at us.

And here comes the armor! It became calmer. Suddenly the radio station comes to life. An order follows that radically changed our plans, and for many, the destinies. We had to inspect the forester's house, which was located nearby, but in the opposite direction.

Our two armored personnel carriers (group commander Pavel Klyuev was the eldest in the first, V. was in the second) went along the narrow road along the Terek. The river bank is low, the places are overgrown, wild, beautiful. To the right of the road there are four-meter reeds, to the left there is a turn and thick greenery on a one and a half meter artificial bank.

At the entrance to the right turn, in front of a huge puddle, the car slowed down, and something made me turn back. It seemed that with my peripheral vision I caught something similar to a “grenade launcher” target. Three seconds passed before I realized - it really was a grenade launcher! Bearded, camouflaged by branches, he prepared to shoot from his knees, and it seemed that he was aiming straight at my forehead from some fifteen meters! I didn’t want to allow this, so with a shout: “There he is...!”, I turned the SVD in his direction. My next cry: “Attention! Left,” drowned in the roar of a shot and an explosion that killed the armored personnel carrier. I don’t remember how we ended up behind the armor; apparently, persistent tactical training took its toll. Due to excess pressure in the engine compartment, the power hatches vomited and lifted. I think this saved the lives of many of our group, because at least a dozen militants were shooting at our lifeless car point-blank from a roadside embankment, while their grenade launcher was preparing for the second shot. Having dropped off the store, the machine gunners lay down to reload, and the grenade launcher again planted a “flea” in the rear of our vehicle. And again lead rain! And so three times in a row. And all three times the grenade launcher hammered into the stern.

Hiding under the nose of the “box” with a rifle that was useless at a distance of 10–15 meters, I had no idea what was happening to the group. Are the guys alive? Near Novosel. What about the rest? Abrek crawled up to us from the side of the road and gestured upward to the armor, and there was Klyuev. He lay slumped over the bleeding Igor Salnikov - Gosha. Believing that we would save him, Abrek and I carefully pulled them off the armor. Gosha's head was broken, but signs of life gave us hope. I tried to find signs of life in the group commander, but, alas. “How’s Pasha?” - Abrek asked, bandaging Gosha. “No more Pasha!” - I answered, dropping the useless bandage. Gosha died a few days later, already in the hospital. On the day when Pasha was buried.

The “spirits” themselves suggested how to deal with their attack, starting to throw grenades at us. Abrek stayed with Gosha and Pasha, and I returned to Novosel under the nose of the armored personnel carrier, when suddenly an F-1 flies out from behind the shaft and falls onto the road five to seven meters from us! These were endlessly long seconds, as if in slow motion. I shout: “New settler, grenade!” “What grenade?” - he rolls his eyes. “In my opinion, efka!” - and I fall between Pasha and Gosha, covering my head with my hands. I extend my tightly clenched legs towards the center of the explosion and wait - where will the fragment fly to me? Explosion. It's gone! And a confident run back to where the damn grenade had just exploded.

We fall, take all our grenades out of unloading and calmly, methodically, with the pins fired, confidently throw them to the other side of the shaft! How do you like this, fighters?

It helped! Novosel guessed to climb into the armored personnel carrier and, using a mechanical release, empty the PKT box. There was a turning point in the combat situation, the shooting died down for a while, the groans of the wounded and the cracking of branches began to be heard. Vetok! This means that the militants were preparing for evacuation. Then a second armored personnel carrier rolled up, for some reason it was lagging behind, and its appearance forced the militants to speed up their retreat, covering it with active fire. So dense that two of our machine gunners, who had climbed onto the rampart, had to leave their positions and crawl down to the road. Then again, as in a slow motion movie: V. rises to the rampart at full height, raises his AKMS with a drum for 75 rounds, branches mown down by enemy bullets fall nearby, and he, as if under a spell, shoots at the brilliant green until the drum jams. Bark and shreds of leaves fly into his face, but he shoots without bending down!

V. is a man of unparalleled courage, will and uncompromisingness. A real Russian officer. I am glad that his numerous exploits were noticed, and by Decree of the President of Russia he was awarded the title of Hero of Russia. After few years.

The battle died down. "Who?" - V. asked briefly. “Pasha, Gosha,” Novosel and I answered. They also brought Vitya Nikolsky, a bullet went right through his thigh. We approached the guys lying on the ground. I squeezed the group commander’s wrist in my hand in the hope of feeling a pulse, and suddenly: there is! I shout: “Comrade Major! There is a pulse." V. touched Pasha’s neck and silently shook his head. It turns out that out of excitement I squeezed my hand too hard and felt my pulse.

An infantry fighting vehicle with scouts from the Stavropol regiment flew up to the battlefield. Having dismounted, they took up defensive positions around us, moving their heads in disbelief in search of the enemy. We’re probably tired, we’ve been evacuated and evacuated all day, but nothing happens. Here our second armored personnel carrier turned around and began to back up in order to pick up a damaged fellow on a trailer and drag it to the regiment’s location. The wheel of an armored personnel carrier drove into a puddle on the side of the road. There's a mine there. Knock powerful explosion, and the multi-ton machine jumped up. Everyone was thrown to different directions by the blast wave!

A moment, silence, I was lying in the middle of the road, looking in surprise at the black rubber snow - this wheel of an armored personnel carrier, split into rubbish by a mine explosion, slowly and sadly waltzed like small black snowflakes to the ground, settling on the faces of living and dead scouts. Thank you, I think, brother, driver of the first reservation, you listened to our advice not to run into puddles. If we had run over this mine first, there would have been no one left alive.

As soon as my hearing returned, I heard a painful groan through the ringing in my ears. Stavropol resident Minenkov was lying on the rampart. His leg is torn off, but he is conscious and even tries to apply a tourniquet. "How is your leg?" - asks. “It’s okay, you’ll walk!” - I answer, and I quietly move the severed leg, which lies next to his head, down. The blood was stopped and the man was saved.

I will add that by decree of the acting President of Russia dated January 17, 2000, Mikhail Minenkov was awarded the title of Hero of Russia.

Having removed the machine guns from the broken armored personnel carriers and shot the on-board radio stations, we decided to blow up the vehicles. We didn’t have the opportunity to get them out that day, and we couldn’t leave them to the militants. I was preparing our car for detonation, and tears flowed from my eyes. From that moment my other, adult life began. Life in the Airborne Special Forces.

The group that inspected the combat area and evacuated the armor found several more mines and landmines installed on the road. Apparently, the militants were preparing a powerful ambush, and we were not their target at all. It is very likely that that battle prevented a major tragedy, since a column of one of the parachute regiments was expected to pass along this road.

Well, we, a handful of scouts who remained relatively unharmed, shell-shocked and tired, with stern, gloomy faces, appeared before the menacing eye of Major General Popov, who personally met him at the side of the helicopter that took us to the Central Bureau of Investigation. His welcoming speech shocked the guys: “So, fighters, I, of course, understand everything, the war is on, but the dress code must be observed! Where are your caps, fellow scouts?

A few days later we gathered in our tent to remember our fallen friends. We were just informed that Gosha died in the hospital. When the third toast was raised in memory of the fallen brothers, the deputy commander of the 218th special forces battalion, Major Pyotr Yatsenko, picking up a guitar and putting a sheet of text in front of him, sang his new song about our group. While he sang, it seemed that we were reliving that short but brutal battle. Many furtively, turning away, wiped away a stingy male tear.

Pyotr Karlovich was sitting right opposite me, and when the song ended and everyone came to their senses, I asked him for a piece of paper with the lyrics to copy it into my notebook. I never had a chance to return Yatsenko’s sheet. On the next mission, which we went on in two groups, Pyotr Karlovich, commanding a special-purpose reconnaissance group, died a heroic death in battle with superior enemy forces. By decree of the President of Russia of March 24, 2000, Pyotr Yatsenko was awarded the title of Hero of Russia (posthumously).

The sheet with the song is now kept in the museum of military glory of the Special Forces of the 45th Special Forces of the Airborne Forces.

"Special forces sense"

There were many interesting tasks. In November we go out on an ambush. Two groups. Our guide. Two nights. We charged, checked the connection, and jumped. Command: “Head watch, forward!” Let's move. With the very first step, fear fades into the background, giving way to attention and caution, cold calculation and lightning-fast reaction. But fear does not disappear completely. Who said that a scout is not afraid of anything? Lies! How scary! But a real intelligence officer knows how to manage his fear, directing it in the right direction so that fear becomes caution. Let's go. As before, all five senses are clenched into a fist and working to the limit. But for some reason, it was precisely on this task that another, sixth sense was added to them - the so-called “special forces sense.” This is when you go out to a task and know in advance that something will happen, and sometimes you even understand at what exact moment. So it is this time.

Stumbling at every step, I walk and try to remain calm. Anyone who has walked through a mown corn field at night will understand what I mean. There are only six hundred meters to the edge of the forest covering the ridge through which we need to cross, but what meters were those?! We walked them for four hours! The feeling that someone was watching us did not leave me for a minute! And then I heard two impacts with a metal object on a gas pipe that ran parallel to our route to the left, below. “Stop! Attention!" I report the strikes to the commander. He didn't hear any knocking. "Forward!" No sooner had we started moving than again: “bamm-bamm”...

Hurry to the saving forest! Having disappeared into the greenery, we got in touch, took a breath, and again: “Head patrol - forward!” The commander stubbornly did not want to walk along the night road, preferring rough terrain, namely, dense thickets of thorny acacia, through which two reconnaissance groups with artillery gunners and radio operators assigned from the Marine Corps and dressed in shaggy “Leshy” suits made their way with a deafening crash! But time was running out, and I still managed to convince the commander to follow the road!

Quickly, without unnecessary noise or adventure, we reached the desired edge and dispersed to our respective areas to organize ambushes. The main object of our attention turned out to be a dirt road about forty meters from the edge. It was on it that Mole installed the MON-50 mine. But for some reason on this day the “spirits” categorically did not want to use the roads and tactically competently walked along the edge of the forest, almost stepping on the trunk of my VSS! Conversing enthusiastically, one pair of militants with machine guns at the ready passed over me, and at an interval of fifty meters, the second. I managed to notice in the bag of one of them something round, reminiscent of an anti-tank mine.

Where is the command to work on the enemy? When the “spirits” walked above me, I covered the radio station with my hand and felt that they were saying something into it, but what? Having given the bandits a couple more minutes of life, we let them through to an ambush by another group. Of course, after warning the brothers that guests were rushing to them.

What if this is just a gang headache? What to do? Reflections were interrupted by fierce shooting in the area of ​​the second ambush! Let's get to work! To the left is the rumble of the engine! A handsome cherry-colored Grand Cherokee drove into the sector of our mine's destruction! Through the scope I clearly saw a healthy bearded guy. Clutching a machine gun in his hand, he looked forward with concentration. Explosion! The jeep was covered with a cloud of blowing up dust mixed with smoke, from which the car never left. The veil cleared, and my gaze fixed on the target. Well, I think you have arrived, Mr. Basayev, I shoot at the doors, I hear the sound of crumbling glass.

Looking to the right to see how our people were doing, I saw that the group had begun to retreat. How? For what? After all, in the car... One could only guess what and who could be found during the search of the jeep. But a departure is a departure. I give the command to the observers on the left and go to the extreme ones. The preliminary collection point is 200 meters to the rear. In front of me is Lekha the radio operator. Star is his call sign. Zvezda runs, adjusting his backpack with a radio station on one shoulder. Unexpectedly, well, very unexpectedly for us, RMB started working on the left side of the group! I prepared for battle, the Star to the right broke through the thorns and got stuck. The bush has already begun to crumble under a hail of bullets! Throw away that damn backpack, friend! Quit. Gone. God bless!

Somehow we gathered at the collection point. We count. All? There is only one missing - the Sentinel. We call the station - clicks in response. Clearly, it only works for reception, village food. Oriented. I was sent to meet him! I'm meeting you. I look - he’s running, but he’s not alone! Some villain with a machine gun has settled in behind him and is not far behind! Well, I think they decided to capture our Olezhka alive? We won't allow this! I take aim at the scoundrel, let him get closer, and set the speed to idle. Stop! Yes, this is ours, Ryazan! Eh, commander! Now everything is definitely assembled.

“Star, let’s get in touch!” - the commander growls. “What kind of a Star am I now, we don’t have a station anymore,” the radio operator answers dejectedly. Let us remember the radio operator of the Marine artillery gunner. Immediately before the task, I installed 300 grams of PVV-5 explosive with a ZTP-50 fuse on his Historian radio station and instructed: “In the event of a threat of the station falling into enemy hands, move the igniter pin to the firing position and pull out the ring, understand?” He understood, yeah! With the very first shot, the boy thought that all the Basmachi from the surrounding villages rushed to attack in order to take over his radio station, and he bravely blew it up as he retreated! Affairs!

Having reached the evacuation area, they somehow called the armor via radio stations intended for work within the group, and to increase the communication range the radio operator had to climb onto tall tree! And laughter and sin. It was a beautiful evacuation. With dashes and inevitable smokes. And the commander of the second group, as it turned out, was a very lazy person! Or very smart. He did not go to the evacuation area on foot, but flew into it in a comfortable Mi-8 helicopter! It’s more convenient this way, he explained, supervising the unloading of trophies and their former owners from the ship. By the way, that round thing in the bag, reminiscent of an anti-tank mine, turned out to be quite tasty pita bread.

But the task did not end there. The group's intelligence chief, who arrived on a helicopter, ordered the group to fly out with him and show the jeep destroyed in the battle. Eat. Flying over the ambush site, we discover that there is no trace of the car! We clearly see the angle of attack of our mine, plowed by the explosion, and that’s it! It turns out that the “spirits” dragged the car into the forest and carefully disguised it with branches. But we found it! When inspecting the jeep, I worked together with Anatoly Lebed, a legendary scout, future Hero of Russia, who absurdly died in 2012 in an accident. The commanders were satisfied with the results of the inspection: documents, radios, weapons and equipment. Listening to the broadcast helped us uncover ninety-two correspondents working in our intelligence area, and the identity of the field commander killed in battle. The magazine “Brother” wrote about this ambush in 1999 in a short news article: “November. As a result of search and ambush operations, the 45th separate special forces regiment of the Airborne Forces killed Salman Raduev’s closest associate with the call sign...”

The joy of victory and the pain of defeat

I remember the death of the signalman of the detachment, senior warrant officer Alexei Ryabkov.

We went to work near Kharachoy, in the Vedeno district, in two groups. One was thrown on helicopters far into the mountains, the second on a BMD rolled towards the paratroopers who had completed their task, providing them with an exit from the area of ​​​​operation.

Ryabkov was in the group on the armor. The serpentine road stretched along the mountain slopes. There were no more than five minutes left to reach the checkpoint when we came across a militant ambush. An explosion behind the lead vehicle of the column occurred suddenly, followed by automatic and machine gun fire. Alexey was hit in the neck by a bullet. He managed to empty the entire magazine from the machine gun before he fell, whispering that he was wounded.

The fight was short. The BMD guns turned towards the attackers fired a salvo. The soldiers' machine guns began to chatter. The “spirits” hastened to retreat.
In the Vedeno region, our special detachment gave good results in 2002 and 2005. We blew up several residential bases and destroyed militants of various hierarchies. Previous experience, knowledge of the geography of trails and the psychology of enemy behavior helped.

Once my non-standard appearance was successfully used by security officers. I, shaved bald, but with a solid beard, looked like a Chechen, and the officers of group “A” of the TsSN FSB of Russia, having dressed me in civilian clothes appropriate for the place and hanging a pendant with the image of a mosque around my neck, released me into the street to conduct surveillance of the house in a private sector. The information provided by me was used by the security officers for their intended purpose - the leader of the local gangster underground was neutralized.

Creation

In 2005, immediately after returning from a business trip, I received injuries incompatible with service in special forces, and in 2007, having completed a course of treatment, I retired to the reserve. And now, without the opportunity to make parachute jumps or go on missions as part of a reconnaissance group, all I can do is write, sing, talk about special forces to the younger generation and collaborate with military-patriotic clubs.

He wrote his first poems in Chechnya back in 2004. Somehow, in the summer of 2005, my good friend, singer-songwriter Vitaly Leonov, was carried by a fair wind to our Khatuni concert. The joy from the meeting knew no bounds! Of course, the tent of our reconnaissance group was chosen for his accommodation. Leafing through my notebook, Vitaly shared his thoughts that my poems could make good songs. In the area of ​​the New Khatuni airport, Vitalya gave several concerts for fighters and even sang for reconnaissance groups leaving on the night of the mission. He had plenty of impressions from the trip, and soon after returning from the Caucasus, Vitaly came up with a wonderful song about reconnaissance with the same name. When I heard my poems that became a song, I thought: “Why not?” – and decided to try his hand at creativity himself.

I sincerely consider 10 years of service in the Airborne Special Forces to be the best years of my life. The video for the song about the 45th Special Forces Regiment of the Airborne Forces was shot by my friend Igor Chernyshev, a former intelligence officer of a special special forces detachment. Many years ago, when it was time for Igor to leave the service, it was from him that I adopted the good old Vintorez. Now Igor is not only a wonderful cameraman and director, but also talented actor theater and cinema.

I am very glad that my songs instilled in the hearts of listeners a love for the army and a desire to serve the Fatherland in the special forces of the Airborne Forces and other units of the Armed Forces. Remember, friends, it is not you who are giving years of your life to the army! It is the army that gives you the years that make you real men!