Do you want to feel WHAT IS WAR?

Hello ATS! I would like to present you a short story of my friend, Sergei Lebedev, call sign "Shaggy", who spent 7 years in the trenches near Lugansk.

Do you know what war smells like?
Not ?

I will tell you.

War is the sour smell of cordite tickling the nostrils, the smell of blazing diesel fuel and rubber, the smell of metal melting from the unbearable heat.

It is the cloying, sweet smell of burning fat. human fat.

This is the smell of unwashed socks for a week, the stink of # and urine from the latrine, into which at first they ran, bashfully hiding behind plywood or a piece of camouflage net, and then they simply didn’t give a damn about it.

War is the smell of a corpse decomposing in the sun with a dark green putrid venous network and eyes pecked out by birds, lying at the foot of a skyscraper being shot through, a corpse that no one cares about.

The war is the smell of the smoke of crappy cigarettes without a filter, mixed with the fumes from home-made moonshine, which was used to remember the guys who did not return from yesterday's choked attack.

Her smell is the smell of baked apples hanging on a charred apple tree near the ruins of a house in which no one will ever live. It smells of burnt ears of bread poured on the vine.

The smell of War is the alcohol-gangrenous stench of the sanitary battalions, bloody bandages trampled into the mud of the trench in half with shell casings, bandages that were not useful to that funny red-haired boy from the day before yesterday's replenishment - he simply died from a jagged fragment of a mine in the stomach.

The smell of War is the smell of cheap cologne that your bunk neighbor freshened up with, having shaved before his last fight.

Her smell is the smell of fear and fierce hatred, on a mental level.

And above all this - the aromas of expensive eau de toilette and cigars in the politician's office, interrupting the smell of printing ink on freshly printed banknotes.

You like the smell of War, don't you?

Then go THERE.

and it's also the smell of blood and adrenaline, and hatred hatred hatred for everything that is behind the wood .....

It still smells like earth. Freshly dug up.

And in other places the smell of wet clay is everywhere.

When you smell in a war, you are alive, not wounded or even shell-shocked.

And the heaviest smell is the smell of hopelessness (cold sweat) of your own body, after you survived, and nothing depended on you and could not do anything yourself.

The sour-sweet smell of TNT from exploding shells.

And my favorite smell is the smell of a smoking cigarette and the smell of dry ration porridge freshly heated on a fire, which in these places seems to be tastier than any delicacies.

Cold stone dust, sour sweat, tobacco smoke, gun grease, adrenaline with blood, the smell of hot sand with the wind on your face...

Medic Friend says: Smells like blood, pus. Fresh blood, dried blood, stagnant blood, everything smells different. Dirty bandages. Clean bandages. Autoclave bandages. Pissed sheets, cut into dry heat or autoclave bandages. Catgut smells sour. Silk smells like straw. It smells like rubber. Glove tubes. Pervomur. Alcohol. Phenol. Bleach. And pus. Feces, mucus, urine. Burnt clothes. Powder burn. But it is not enough. Burnt rubber. Sweat. Feverish sweat. The sweat of those who are afraid. Sweat from the fact that you will not have time, and the fighter is still conscious ...

Luhansk friend says: War!? We have a war outside the window for the eighth year. This is when the earth is shaking from a close explosion and the wife runs to hide in the bathroom, and you are tired and just lazily state: undershoot. This is when windows fly out into an apartment that has just been removed. This is when a rocket from Igla self-detonates above your head because it didn’t reach the plane, and instead of stopping, you step on the gas with a frenzy at a speed of 120 km through a desert city. The smell of burnt explosives and the burnt house of a neighbor. This is when you bury your son at 27 and you continue to live. That's what this damned war is to me.

Do you want to feel WHAT IS WAR?

War, do you feel it? The pulse became less frequent, the tips of the fingers became numb and trembled, the gaze sharpened. Do you feel energized? Now close your eyes and take a deep breath through your nose. the air, burning and pleasant just because it exists, is filled with smells. A million scents. One stands out. Or you just think it stands out, in fact you just think you can feel it. Enjoy. You know whose it is. Now, like a trained beast, you will hunt him. It's not love, it's not the first sex, it's not the swearing in to the throne, it's not driving a devilishly fast car, it's not the desire to kill. Not!

This is war. No romance, just war. Just bullets whizzing overhead, just projectiles exploding for no reason whatsoever. Just fifty-ton "light" tanks. Just walls of fire instead of villages, villages. Just blood on the walls of stone and brick houses, someone's blood. Just the corpses of people near each funnel, in the path of every tenth bullet. Just bloodied cripples, calling for help, longing for a speedy calm or death is the same. Just someone's destinies, like ears of corn cut off by someone's sickle of war. And you're the next one she's waiting for.

The smell of war ... This is the smell of those freshly cut ears. It used to happen, as a child, lying in a field on freshly cut hay, the aroma intoxicates, lulls, soothes. Happiness. Everything was the other way around, more precisely, then everything was fine, it's the other way around now. It's not right, it's wrong. War is not a drug for you, it does not calm you down, but shakes you up. And if it lulls, then forever. And the ears are cut not by a beautiful village girl with a song on her lips, but by a psychopath with a sickle in his hands.

You don't want anything anymore. Not to your mother's house, because you have not been a child for a long time. No wealth, over the past few years you have learned that money is the most terrible weapon and will be worse than hydrogen bombs, carpets covering the earth from spent 7.62 mm caliber cartridges. Worse than a tuft of someone's bloody hair on the very edge of a tank's tracks. You don't want to smoke, you don't want to drink vodka and forget yourself, you don't want a harem of beautiful girls, you don't even want the end of the war itself. You don't want anything. Nothing!

Why did you kill dozens of people, why did you stop their hot hearts, thirsting for blood and destruction? Why did you sit at your headquarters all night long, preparing tasks, why did you send people with the same warm hearts as those who had them to these tasks? Why all this? What was the point in all this?
This is the meaning of your life. And what it is, you will know in a couple of seconds. Exhale slowly. So slow. Open your eyes. With your head bowed slightly forward, your eyes narrowed a little and smiling at the impending changes, you can go into battle. You will soon have to fall into the soft embrace of the earth and stop being called a man... Do you feel it?

Do you still want to go to war?

thanks.

a reply to: RussianTroll

Is this supposed to be some kind of poetic threat to people disinclined to capitulate to Putin's delusions of grandeur?

originally posted by: Sookiechacha
a reply to: RussianTroll

Is this supposed to be some kind of poetic threat to people disinclined to capitulate to Putin's delusions of grandeur?

Are you personally ready to fight like that? This story was written by a real person who spent 8 years in the war. He defended his home, his land and his family. And where does Putin?

I wouldn't get too cocky, Russian troll. The UK is about to send in the best of the best.

a reply to: RussianTroll

Are you personally ready to fight like that?

Are you swinging that phallic thing at me, personally?

This story was written by a real person who spent 8 years in the war.

Surprise! Surprise! Surprise! you plagiarized your whole OP.

originally posted by: Sookiechacha
a reply to: RussianTroll

Are you personally ready to fight like that?

Are you swinging that phallic thing at me, personally?

This story was written by a real person who spent 8 years in the war.

Surprise! Surprise! Surprise! you plagiarized your whole OP.

Thanks. You have just clearly demonstrated the weakness of Western man.

a reply to: RussianTroll

Not ALL western men....DO NOT UNDERESTIMATE US.

And I think you might be surprised by sookie's reply.

a reply to: RussianTroll

I know what you are saying.

It bothers me to no end that governments meddle, then send in people angered by propaganda to kill unknown people who will then return with a lifelong damage to the body and psyche, while the tyrants, in safety, plan their next round.

If it comes to my own soil, I will fight. Never otherwise. Glad I am a farmer as I am in touch with nature and much of which you describe, but none of it is the highest thought. Without government meddling we could probably live in peace.

a reply to: RussianTroll

Your post sounds like its filled with the delusion that the people are the ones that want war and have a say over the gov't that causes the wars.

Nobody but the military industrial complex around the world benefits from war and chaos. Russia is not exmpt from this .

A game is being played and we are not the players but simply the just part of the audience that gets to watch the game. Unfortunately unlike traditional sports we will get exposed to the consequences of the outcome of the game despite having no control over the game.

However in this case it doesn't look like there will be a war against Russia and Russia was just handed over the Ukraine by the Piden and Nato. As part of the deal you will have a few months of sanctions until people say squirrel but you will get to keep Ukraine and Crimea.

a reply to: RussianTroll

Independent of politics I think you deserve a star and flag. Aside from the translation hitches I think it's a glimpse of war. It's portrayed well through the descriptions, erratic pacing, and culminating with apathy. How can one stay sane under such conditions unless they adopt some kind of defense against the madness, for some the defense is apathy.

It's a shame that politics is causing people to read more into your post than what you intend. I didn't see your post as a threat, but rather a plea for peace and a warning about war.

I do not want war. Sane and rational people don't want war.

a reply to: RussianTroll

If you're friend was a professional Soldier..

I believe he chose the wrong profession..

Stay Safe

Riouz

I just created an account to log in and ask where the Russian Troll went?