The Foreigner Group by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2023-01-15T02:28:57+00:00

Chapter 21: Funerals

The reconnaissance missions continued every other night. Långström led all of them but rotated the personnel under his command. It was difficult to fit everyone into a single car. Besides, the group had greater numerical strength than was usually needed, anyway. It also gave each soldier at least some time for rest every now and then. This time, Chris and I had remained at the base overnight. Early in the morning, the Greek entered through the door, obviously excited.

“Fuck, guys! You missed something this time! We captured two of the bums as prisoners! Real fucking bandits, I’m telling you. You should have seen them!”

The sheer level of the Greek’s satisfaction made me jealous that I hadn’t been part of anything so exciting. Still, being able to rest a full night while the others were out freezing their asses off was obviously nice, especially since most of our recon operations remained uneventful, anyway. We halted our cars, got out, and marched to some predetermined position, hoping not to step on any land mines while doing so. Then we lay there, often without seeing anything. Enemy activity was usually low and we had never before even gotten close to actually capturing any of his men.

The Greek began to eagerly explain the course of events which had unfolded during the night: “Truth be told, this was actually a matter of coincidence! A simple fuckup, if you will. It could have ended up in many different ways. Anyway, we had been scouting around Shyrokyne, from one of the vantage points nearby. Then, as we start getting ready to pull back, all of a sudden, from nowhere—voices in the darkness! We threw ourselves in the ditch next to the road for cover. And so, then, there they came, passing right by us on the road, the bandits—both of them drunk, needless to say.”

The Greek used the term “bandit” to distinguish between real Russian soldiers, be they volunteer fighters or from regular formations, and the common local separatist fighter.

“And the two of these, they were serious bandits. Fake leather jackets and equally fake Adidas pants, you know. That kind of shit. Only one of them came armed, and you could tell he was the leader, judging from that kind of oblong flat cap which higher-ranking gopniks commonly carry. You know they do this, right? It’s like a badge of honor among them. It was the complete picture! Anyway, as we understood the two of them were alone, we simply seized the moment of opportunity and jumped out from our hiding place. The elder bandit dropped his rifle immediately! You should have seen their faces, when we confronted them in English! They fucking shit themselves, realizing the might of all NATO nations had suddenly fallen down upon them! Fucking laughable, really. Goddamn bums.”

Russian propaganda from the very beginning had made a big deal out of the fact that there were Western volunteers in Azov. The picture which they painted, however, had made our numbers out to be much larger than they really were.

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