And do you remember the first battle, brother?
You screamed with fear and gave a cuss.
In the village of Achkhoi-Martan we stood together,
And the APC opened fired on us.
And do you remember our first jump, how we soared?
Somewhere near Shali that day,
I somehow found the ripcord,
And you whispered to me: Pray!
And for help, you yourself prayed,
When on New Year’s Eve, that winter,
Into the Chechen-Aul you made the raid,
With me by your side, together.
And in March at the battle for Gudermes they said,
Dudaev himself was there,
And you almost rose from the dead…
Well, have I really forgotten the despair?
How they turned Grebenskaia into a charred wreck,
When the mayor was killed,
And death breathed down our neck,
Stood point-blank and smiled.
And do you remember the mess in Groznii?
At the checkpoint, the horrific slaughter?
And the kukushka, he only just missed me,
The twitching fool, they call a sniper.
And the forced march to Avturi?
Well, remember, how we broke the earth,
We cut with an axe, we weren’t lazy,
As we chopped for the life we’re worth.
And do you remember, that night
You went for vodka?
Our watch in the misty dawn light
Almost killed you in Khankala.
And we took Bamut in May,
Without a loss we ceased,
And you were really tough that day,
And fought like a wild beast.
Then up rolled Yeltsin,
And presented us with many medals, sent
To call us to the election
To go and vote for him as president.
Why do we need Yeltsin, another suit,
Of whom we have enough already?
As they jumped, he was failed by his parachute —
The company commander who fell to earth unsteady.
I will remember forever these lands,
How you were smashed to smithereens,
And then you died in my hands,
Broken by these rocks, these awful scenes.
The final battle bawled its war cries:
And then came the explosions,
That bought a sad tear to the eyes,
And hurled us into the heavens.
I saw God then a light and felt the final breath.
The brightness beckoned me alone,
So I sent my regards to death,
Having burst into her home.
But I survived and out of spite to death,
I returned to life, so that I could live!
You know that I was lucky to be left,
And I swore vengeance for you who did not survive.
But vengeance is no doctor for this pain,
For you will never return to home,
So I won’t spend time in vain
But will learn to stand on my own.
I will marry and have a son one day,
And give him your name, carved in rock.
I will come to the cemetery, and say:
— Well, how are things, Vitiok?
And do you remember the first battle, brother?
You screamed with fear and gave a cuss.
In the village of Achkhoi-Martan we stood together,
For the first time…you were dying…one of us…