There was no particular mystery in the market traders' astonishing honesty, it turned out: according to Bagautdin, they would be punished if, God forbid, they passed off counterfeit vodka, meaning cheaper vodka, as genuine. Naturally, by a "fine," as my companion explained...

Then, having already left Khasavyurt, we stopped on the roadside, laying out our simple meal on the hood of a Zhiguli, in Russian tradition...

...Why do I remember this too? Both that little market on the outskirts of Khasavyurt, and that naive and amusing (for a Muscovite) "Fake, fake," and the "acquaintance" mullah?

I don't know...

I'm always surprised by the strange selectivity of memory, which, independent of your will, mixes everything together: both significant events and all the rubbish left over from that time.

But there's something to it.

Suddenly it flares up inside you—and then you understand: no, if it remained, if it wasn't forgotten, then it must be so, it was meant to be, it was written without you.

For example, the next day, when Nadyr Khachilaev finally appeared... What difference does it make, in the end, what model the car was that we then drove, leading our small column? But not to write that it was a brand new "Lincoln" (just imagine such a sight: a "Lincoln" on a military road!)—would be to deprive the space of life around you then of another color.

Yes, Nadyr appeared the next morning. But first, a joyful Bagautdin called:

"That's it, we're going today! I'll pick you up now—we're going to Nadyr's. Let the guys get ready..."

"Now," of course, stretched into an hour and a half.

We waited again...

"Mom said: 'Why are you going? What if you don't come back?'" I remember Sasha Klimov from "Echo" suddenly sighed.

One of the guys nervously laughed, recalling last night and how warily Bagautdin had looked at the darkening sky.

I knew what he was afraid of: Chechens had just taken two priests hostage. I remember him whispering to me: "Can you imagine what will happen if they take all of you too? I'll die of shame... No, we can't go without Nadyr."

I didn't tell the guys about it. But I perfectly understood why he asked to stop near that market then...

Bagautdin finally arrived. We rushed after Nadyr. That's when I first saw this rather gloomy guy in a papakha, his "Lincoln," and the jeep into which his guards carelessly tossed weapons: a couple of assault rifles and a grenade launcher.

"What's that for, Nadyr? How will we get through the checkpoint?!" I asked in horror.

"Everything will be fine. I guarantee it... It's necessary... You never know..." Nadyr waved dismissively.

Then we picked up the guys, and it turned out there wasn't enough room for everyone in the cars—one person too many.

I caught Konstantin's pleading gaze: he understood that if I were to leave anyone here at the hotel, it would be him, not the professional journalists who had to report back to their publications, TV, and radio companies.

But he was lucky. The cameraman from ATV honestly admitted: "I've never been to war. I don't know what I'll be like there. I'll only get in your way."

No one laughed. No one condemned him. Everyone understood everything.

"Don't worry, I'll film everything myself," Sergey Keshishev said and put the camera on his shoulder...

I remembered this because war is an abnormal state for a human, and only those who observe it from afar shout about valor and cowardice.

When you are there, you understand and feel more.

Even people like us—who have only touched it...

I'll add just a little more.

On the way, we got into a predicament: we had to spend a long time proving that we were not leading a convoy with green flags. At that time, I was informed that the regimental commander wanted to speak with me.

We drove to the regiment...

Passing Novogroznenskoye, we ran into concrete barriers and a barrier blocking the highway.

Only our "Lincoln" was allowed through...

It turned out the regiment was located to the right and left of the road: mud up to the knees, grey tents, tanks almost buried up to their turrets in the mud...

Nadyr remained in his exotic car, I stood, smoked with the officers, waiting for them to find the commander...