VACATION ROAD

Someone’s life goes on steadily and smoothly, without giving them the opportunity to test themselves in an extreme situation. And someone is constantly tested by fate. For Darkhan, the moment of truth came at the moment when the blued steel of the muzzle of the machine gun chose the running figures of his comrades as a target. Darkhan did not flinch…

 

The road that Darkhan had to drive was not very long. Sitting on an old «Ikarus» in Zharkent on an August evening, a border guard soldier decided to sleep as much as possible so that tomorrow he could walk cheerful and happy through the streets of his native Uzun-agash, where he had not been for more than a year. The fellow travelers, of whom there were quite a few on the regular bus, also intended to pass the way to the final stop at the Sairan bus station, which apparently did not tune in to night conversations in Almaty, that private Butabayev did not upset at all, since lately many curious people have already had so many times and not only told the same story endlessly, that now they just wanted to keep quiet.

Having felt his own pockets to make sure if he had not forgotten anything, perfectly understanding that cigarettes, a lighter, documents and several hundred tenge seem to have nowhere to go, Darkhan, finding them, took his place with satisfaction.

Diesel rumbled monotonously. Everybody, on the way. Neighbors one after another plunged into the kingdom of Morpheus, someone was quietly snoring, well, and someone was frankly snoring, periodically hammering the sounds of a not weakly humming engine.

In the south, twilight is fleeting, and the night that followed them enveloped everything around with a warm and some kind of very dense blackness. Somewhere the night is bluish-black, but here it is black as soot, and because of this it is not transparent. The light from the headlights of oncoming cars now and then illuminated the interior of the bus for a moment, painting it with bizarre shadows. Then darkness fell again, in order to arrange a shadow theater again after a while.

Fatigue, though felt, but the dream, as luck would have it, still did not go.

Impressions of the events that had piled up on the guy lately, one replacing the other, ran before Darkhan’s eyes, which he did not even try to close.

Darkhan was the eldest child in the big Butabayev family. School, helping parents with housework and raising two brothers and as many little sisters took a lot of time from the village boy, the whole daylight hours.

It would seem that it is simply impossible to carve out another hour for anything else, but for youth the impossible does not exist. Darkhan, like all the neighbour’s boys, managed to combine useful with pleasant, On a summer morning, while the cattle got drunk from the river, he could swim a couple of times and even sunbathe a little, although one eye always watches the wayward animals, nevertheless, the burning coolness and invigorated, and filled the soul with some delight that defies description. It was pleasant to remember those sweet moments with hope - now it’s August and tomorrow he will be at home. How he wanted to enter the beloved river of childhood again! Maybe it will work? And as if continuing the dialogue with himself instantly summed up - it will not work, so, childishly, one can no longer fool around, in front of the younger brother Zhalas it is uncomfortable. He will say: «What, Dake, were you taught in the army?»

He must have grown a lot. And this spring, another brother, Duman, was called up to the Border Guard Service. It is a pity that he did not have time to share his experience with him. How is he in Kyzylorda?

The plump tateshka sitting on the right settled down her head more comfortably in her sleep. The shoulder of the border guard, filled with strength and energy, seemed to her quite suitable for this. From this thought, as if flipping through a few pages, he moved on to the next scene.

In the fall of 2000, some unfamiliar guy, asking first to sign, handed over a piece of paper with a seal. Darkhan guessed right away - a summons.

Arriving, as it should be for the medical board, he was very disappointed to learn that although he was good in all respects, he would not be called up now. «The outfit for the district is small, the village is full of older guys who have not yet served in the army, so you will be in the reserve for now,» - the officer of the second branch of the military registration and enlistment office, profusely silvered with gray hair, somehow slyly explained.

- Aha! After all, I will go to the army anyway, so send it better now than later at 25-27 years old, - the boy tried to persuade the military.

- Not «aha», but «captain myrza» - the officer snapped in Kazakh, making it clear that the conversation was over ...

Some foreign passenger car clearly jumped out into the oncoming lane, the bus honked, slowed down and pressed hard to the side of the road. «Dispersed!» - the soldier calmed down. And thoughts, bypassing some more time, were transferred to May 2001.

Mama Saule did not hide her tears. Father, the miller Jumabay, was somehow unusually fussing, while the sisters, having caught the general excitement of their parents, were also nervous, then they fell silent, then somehow unnaturally, they laughed strainedly. When neighbors came into the yard, the anxiety was forgotten during the conversation. And the reason for her was good. Darkhan was called up for service. This is stress in itself, and even more so now there is so much talk about the army both on TV and in newspapers. From time to time Saule sobbed, saying: «Why! Why!» But Jumabai always immediately interrupted the woman’s lamentations with a stern look: «Shut up, mother! Not for a war, after all,» the father squeezed out of himself and tried to hide his eyes. They were also wet.

On the way to Almaty and there, already in the regional military registration and enlistment office, Darkhan more than once relived the moments of parting with his stepfather’s house. And he was not the only one. About a hundred conscripts did not feel better before being sent off. Only a few, trying to seem like such gallant fellows, walked, protruding their breasts, and along the way they distributed advice that was not useful to anyone later, since they came from the same unwise «yellow-mouths» as Darkhan and the whole stream, in the troops called «May- 01».

Uncertainty, uncertainty scares most of all. And the longer this state lasts, the more an unpleasant aftertaste remains on the soul, when on your own skin you understand what the expression «my guts are cramping» means. With such a feeling. the recruit Butabayev experienced such a feeling for the first time during his short life, but, as it turned out later, not for the last time.

And then, on the same day, about forty people were recruited into his team by an officer in a green cap, fluently asking standard questions to the worrying boys. Then he built it, counted it ... and into a bus going along the same route as now, but in the opposite direction.

He would like to smoke; they drive only about an hour, in theory, a stop will be soon. And pictures from life at a speed of 25 frames per second ran again like on a cinema screen.

Zharkent is great in May. Blooming gardens, walnut alleys. Nightingale trills are at night until dawn. And that’s all for everyone. Not for recruits. They are not up to it. The training division does little to tune in to the lyrics. Getting up, a fleeting breakfast (mom could order something favorite), swallowed more on command, and not from whatever one wants. And classes, classes, classes. Day off is on Sunday, but only on this day you need to do so much that there is simply no time to rest. And the sergeants are vigilantly and watching: «Go and wash your clothes! Or - iron your uniform!» It seems that camouflage, by the will of evil doom, is smeared and crumpled especially on the eve of the weekend. There`s no doubt: either the sister Madina, or Alina would have washed everything in 20 minutes, and after another 2-3 hours they would have dried and ironed. And here, out of habit, you will ruin half a day for this wise occupation. And tomorrow again Monday and again classes and classes. Then it seemed that it would never end. However, six months, and even six months of unusual service - borderline: only 180 lights out, 180 wakes up, and in the intervals between them a long series of combat training, for the sake of which everything is arranged in the «training».

At the next stop, having seen a lot in its lifetime, «Ikarus» did not stand for a long time. Having picked up the passengers, ten minutes later it set off again. This time was enough to smoke and move away from the memories a little.

And the nights in August are cool, Darkhan thought, warming himself in his chair. And as if into a void fell into a dream.

However, the dreams were all from the same opera. The commandant company after the training unit, and literally on the second day, the outfit was daytime. And a day later again. Time flew faster. In between the outfits, the young but serious warrior did not get tired of asking to go to the border over and over again. «Comrade commander, send me to the border, I want serious service!» - he demanded more than he asked then. Now Darkhan does not even know what played a role - either his persistence, or some kind of situation developed, but he was summoned to the credentials committee, according to the instructions of which, in the morning of the next day, a guy from Zhambyl district of Almaty region went to the border post in one of the most picturesque places in Zhetysu - «Switzerland» - was the first impression.

This is not a service, but a resort. And it turned out to be a service here as well. Petty officer of the contract service Nikolai Mamasuyev for a long time asked the newly arrived privates G. Kuandykov and D. Butabayev numerous questions, during which it turned out that Ghani, although he does not have a special education, is an excellent cook, and Darkhan, like a gypsy, knows and understands horses, which he simply loves from birth. The guys both arrived at Tekeli together and later became friends, often sharing with each other the most painful and intimate, trusting a friend as himself. The guys met in March, and by June they were already inseparable.

Long-distance mountain trails open from snow here only in June. Intercity bus drivers usually have their favorite roadside cafes or canteens, where they stop for a snack every day. Here they are traditionally fed free of charge for the fact that several dozen potential customers will approach this particular teahouse, since the passengers, although they are not averse to refreshing themselves, decide to do this only relying on the guarantees of safe catering. And what is a better recommendation on the way than an example of chauffeurs?! So the main stream rushes to those tables where the drivers sit.

Darkhan did not change traditions. Stretching his swollen legs on the move, yawning on the street from the cold from sleep, he asked for tea and cakes, trying not to «crawl out» of the modest sum.

The tea was great with delicate aroma. And Butabayev, without thinking about anything, concentrated his attention on a pleasant tea ceremony.

- And you, servant, I have been watching you for a long time, why are you hardly sleep? - the voice of an already middle-aged driver brought the border guard out of oblivion. - It’s not the season for demobels in August. Accidentally not in a self-propelled vehicle?

- No, dad. I’m going on vacation, not far from Almaty. And I don’t sleep because I’m afraid to oversleep my vacation, - Darkhan joked.

- Leila, - the interlocutor turned to the waitress, - bring your wonderful lagman to the soldier, - and then conspiratorially, looking into his eyes, asked: «Do you want vodka, soldier?»

- Thanks. It is forbidden. Yes, and I am an athlete, a wrestler.

- Well, all right. And eat lagman. On the road, this will not happen anywhere else. Don’t worry about money, I also once served. Ha-ha, 29 years ago already. DMB-73! Eat, do not be shy.

Darkhan thanked him and began to wind long Dungan noodles on the fork. Lagman was really excellent. He  hadn`t tried this for a long time. Leila was just a magician from cooking.

A few minutes later, the late supper or early breakfast was consumed. And all the fellow travelers reached for the bus. Having smoked on the path and exchanged a couple of meaningless phrases with the interlocutor, the soldier settled down more comfortably in his place. He thought that now he will definitely fall asleep.

«Is that all?» – the driver was covinced, extinguishing the light in the cabin and starting the engine. For greater confidence, having honked several times, he began to slowly sail away from the place where they know how to cook a real lagman.

Sleep did not go. Having counted to himself almost a thousand, Darkhan abandoned his useless attempts to doze off.

June was rainy this year, rainy and cool. It’s on the plain. And as you climb the mountains, it is not cool and rainy, but cold and snowy …

However, no one canceled the service. Private Butabayev (by the way, the only conscript), among the group consisting of the driver-employee Maksutov, he was a guide and warrant officer Olgazhbekov, received a difficult and responsible task: to lift nine heavily loaded horses into the mountains to the post.

The beginning of the journey did not bode well. The mountain river rustled merrily. In the numerous thickets, birds chirped restlessly, and the landscape, changing with every hundred meters, not allowing the eye to get used to the monotony, filled the soul with majestic inner beauty emanating from every blade of grass, every stone.

At the border post for a long time, there was, as it were, an unannounced competition between two fighters who were considered the best horse breeders. One of them, as you might guess, is Darkhan, the other is Private Bakhytzhan Zhangirov. None of them had indisputable leadership. And if this time the commander Senior Lieutenant Yevgeny Kolyada, having weighed all the «pro» and «sptta», opted for Butabayev, this did not mean anything, except that the trust placed in it is very easy to deceive, but it is necessary, in what anyway, confirm it. And meanwhile, in thought, at first it was good and wide, the road had long turned into a muddy, dirty path, and the horses, although perfectly shod, nevertheless skimmed godlessly, from which, frightened themselves, they kept trying to scatter. And wet snow fell from the sky that had already stopped melting on the horses’ backs.

Here’s summer for you.

Nothing is eternal under the Moon. In the most difficult conditions, but still these one hundred and twenty kilometers were covered. The Head of the post was not mistaken, that is, Private Butabayev did not disappoint. Although there were moments, when he was sucked in the stomach for the second and third time during those three days. However, everything is in the past. But in the present, the baggage of personal life experience has become much heavier. After all, life is long, and someday he will need the knowledge acquired in the Tekelian Mountains. Upon returning to the unit, there was a hot bath with tea infused with medicinal herbs. Here they know a lot about traditional medicine, so no one even caught a cold.

And then was the usual everyday life: duty officer, sentry, day man in the stable, observation post. And so every day is the same with only different variations.

Of course, a big fan of horses likes the outfit for the stable more. Especially Darkhan loved to graze these intelligent and affectionate animals in the field.There is grass with a predominant scent of wormwood, a lark high in the sky, moving its knees higher and higher, a light breeze blowing pleasantly under the collar of the tunic. He can’t even believe that all this is far from home. There, in Uzun-agash, everything is exactly the same.

 On August 12, at 8:00 am, Private D. Butabayev, according to the schedule, took over as the daily duty officer for the unit. The day promised to be calm and wonderful like a summer. Then nothing foreshadowed something going out of the usual way in the unit.

Private Yerlan Mukhanov was in about the same mood. However, knowing full well the official duties, standing on the tower, he did not allow himself to bask in the warm rays of the morning sun, although he wanted it so ...

The pre-dawn sun still overcame the soldier. He went asleep, and woke up only from the driver’s shout: «Hey, border! That`s all –Sairan.»

Darkhan got embarrassed when he passed out. And only then he realized that the plan for further action had not yet finally matured. On the bus for fifty kilometers to shake more - he doesn`t want to, but whether there are taxis from the new bus station - he doesn`t know. Having decided that during the period of the establishment of market relations in society, taxis would come from anywhere, if only it was not very expensive, he hoped for good luck. It is necessary to search, to bargain in the end, although the uniform made the border guard embarrassed when bickering with taxi drivers.

Well, the market is the market. A compromise was found. It remains to find one more interested person to plant and ... and the last dash to the gates of his native nest. Waiting for a fellow traveler, Darkhan dreamed: if only someone he knew would get hooked. He can’t wait to communicate with fellow countrymen. But in the morning, Uzunagashen residents often go to Almaty, and not to their village. It’s the other way around in the evening. No volunteers have yet been observed. The sun was getting stronger and stronger through the Audi-100’s windshield. The guy was overwhelmed and sleep overcame him again. And Darkhan did not resist very much. In a dream, a hating face was turned directly into his eyes, with whom he had a chance to meet for the second time in his life in an institution where the doors close themselves, ominously clanging powerful locks - it was the gloomy building of the Taldykorgan prison. During the confrontation, those thorny eyes were no longer so cowardly and hunted ... A door lock clicked behind him. «Practice on the refrigerator at home,» the taxi driver remarked irritably to his fellow traveler. And, as if reporting to Darkhan, he said: «Full set, may I go?» The soldier nodded his head, smiling. Almaty is a painfully familiar city with its business bustle, clean streets, many of them Butabayev repeatedly walked in that «civil» life. A little over a year has passed, and everything has changed so much. «There are so many new things, I will choose a day, I will definitely take a tour of the southern capital,» the soldier decided to himself. The taxi driver, noticing the young passenger’s curiosity, asked:

- What, brother, going on vacation?

- Yes, home for ten days.

- The border guard?

- Yes, sir!

- Well done.

As if having learned everything that was necessary, the taxi driver fell silent and withdrew into himself. And only about ten minutes later the conversation that had begun was resumed.

- How are you there now? Are you fed normally?

Darkhan laughed as much: «Yes, how did you all agree, how  we  are fed, what,don’t you see me?»

There was a pause again.

- And where, brother, do you serve?

- In Tekeli.

 -Recently I heard on the radio that an armed gang was caught there. Is it true?

- Not a gang, but one deserter, however, with a machine gun.

- Isn’t it you who excelled?

-           And me too.

- Silence and tranquility here are sometimes deceiving.

The owner of the «Audi» looked at the border guard with admiration, so much so that Darkhan had to remind:

- Brother, you look at the road, please, look, otherwise I will not get home, and I have to go to the border 10 days later, otherwise there are not enough people.

- Well, come on then, hero, tell me how it was.

- Yes, what a hero I am. Here is a fellow servant Seryoga Nasonov - that yes! His mother came to him, and he, being on leave, joined the «Alarm Group», only the foreman sent him back to leave by his order.

- Well, how was it?   

- Yerlan Mukhanov noticed a lonely moving armed figure from the tower. And without hesitation, he told me on the phone, I was on duty then and the day before they told us that in Taldykorgan one «soldier» had fled from his post with a Kalash, but we didn’t think he would rush in our direction, but we didn’t miss it.

- And why did he run away?

- Who knows? Generally, he is a strange type. I probably didn’t see a geographic map, when we twisted it, he explained to everyone that he was going home to Temirtau, and left over there ...

Pause.

- Is that all? Don’t press on - tell me, the driver insisted.

- Well, Mukhanov told me, I went on to the person in charge; he gave the command “Into the gun!” The rest is a matter of technology...

- Why are you all some kind of excuses? We’ll be back soon, but you have no specifics.

And the road, meanwhile, really led already far beyond the city.

- Well, the “alarm” worked perfectly, both of us were encouraged with a vacation for our vigilance and efficiency. So I will come, and Yerlan will see his people.

The closeness to his small homeland made him recall the day of August 12 again, the day that made private D. Butabayev known to the entire Border Guard Service of the National Security Committee of the Republic of Kazakhstan ...

 

 

Then the foreman of the contract service, Nikolai Mamasuev, an athlete and a soldier to the core, quickly set up an “alarm” to organize the search and detention in four directions. Combing the area, Private Butabayev was the first to see the fleeing back. “Stop! Drop your weapon! Stop, I will shoot! « - gasping with courage, the border guard shouted. Both the fugitive and ours heard him. The sergeant major with the guys hastened to shout, and the travel lover, removing the machine gun from his shoulder, pulled the bolt, driving the cartridge into the chamber, took aim, but then rushed into the thickets, dodging like a hare. Darkhan, without waiting for help, avoiding a head-to-head meeting, in which even the most meek can easily pull the trigger, did not think about the consequences. Having chosen the dominant skyscraper (since he knew the area very well), he rushed to the proposed meeting place with the deserter. Darkhan saw him when he was hiding with a weapon in his hands on the steep bank of the canal.

The place for defense is ideal, from there you can drown all the approaching «alarm» in lead, only Private Butabayev sneaked almost from the rear with a cat - another second and he fell on the back of the one who was directing the barrel of his machine gun at his brothers, the same soldiers, the same somebody`s sons, who only honestly give their debt to their homeland, in contrast to the cowardly deserter who stabbed with his eyes, realizing that he, with the machine gun knocked out of his hands, under the weight of the border guard, who owns the techniques of Kazaksha-kures, has already sung his swan song. Soon ours arrived ... And 30 minutes later, Commander of the Mobile Forces of the Ministry of Defense, arrived at the Tekeli border post.

- I want to shake the courageous hand of the one who neutralized the criminal, - he demanded, smiling with a white-toothed smile.

Here Darkhan was a little cowardly. Is it a joke the general himself is addressing him, but friends pushed him in the back - come out. And he, embarrassed and blushing, went out - «This is me ...». The commander thanked the hero, and the next day the commander’s watch was brought to Private Butabayev. The «Darkhan from the Commander» had a fresh engraving on the shiny hull.

And then the awards were not long in coming: a vacation on behalf of the unit commander, gratitude on behalf of the Director of the Border Service, a letter from the Chairman of the KNB and finally a medal.

Having driven up to the house itself, the taxi driver warmly said goodbye to the hero. Darkhan, joyful and elated, did not run in, but just flew into his gate.

– Mom, mom! Sisters!

– Son! Why did you run away? Why are you a disgrace to your family?

– No, mom! They let me go on vacation!

Confusing Kazakh and Russian words, the hero in his father’s house explained himself excitedly. Until the evening, until Jumabai came home from work, Saule still doubted her son.

But in the evening, all the most respected people of the village went to the Butabayevs’ house to express their respect to their fellow countryman-border guard.

From a short vacation, Darkhan returned by taxi to the city of Tekeli. The hero slept almost all the way and did not dream of anything, probably, his worries and experiences subsided. As soon as he arrived at his place of service, Private Yerlan Mukhanov went on vacation.