Their commander, Sasha, was the last to exit the plane.

He and three of his soldiers flew to Moscow at the invitation of Sergey Govorukhin and Yura Pavlenkov for an evening commemorating those who died in the six years of the Chechen war.

"How's the arm? Still alive?" I asked Sasha.

"Stop it... These are my guys. Meet them."

I met Sanya in December '99 through Yura Pavlenkov (he worked at the General Staff of the Ground Forces then). He had been wounded in the leg, and Yura advised him—or rather, asked him!—to go to a military hospital. "No, the guys are waiting for me," Sanya replied.

I started to find out why the guy was so eager to go there, to Chechnya? Who was he? And who were these guys?

Our life is like on a blade,
We're in someone's throat.
It's more useful to plow the land,
But you have to shoot, though it's tedious.

I found out: two Orders of Courage. Two Medals "For Valor." Nominated for Hero of Russia. He hates war. For him and his men, war means special operations that have to be conducted in Grozny, in Shali, in Gudermes. They weren't allowed to eliminate Basayev. Khattab outmaneuvered them in one skirmish in Dagestan. He considers OMON officers Gestapo agents and marauders. He distrusts the MVD and FSB. He came to Moscow to get mountain boots and black uniforms for his men. But there was no money for it.

Two months later, he was wounded again. Again, he will be nominated for the title of Hero. In the hospital, Sanya will be hinted that he should send a box of cognac to the Ministry of Defense. Calling me, he cursed: "Yura, they can go to hell..."

Then his commander, a Hero of Russia, called: "Help Sanya. He is our pride."

I failed to prove that Sanya was the pride of our army. "Well, what? We'll give him a third Order of Courage... He's still young..." This is what I was told by officials from the Ministry of Defense, who grabbed military awards in Arbat alleyways far from the front.

(I dare not name Sasha's surname or his unit—too much money is offered for his head. But believe me—he is the honor of our army.)

Well, all right... I got sidetracked.

Though no. No. It's all about this.

"How's your arm? Still alive?..."

"Stop it... These are my guys..."

...His guys turned out to be—just guys.

One, Zhenya—twenty-one, the second, Andrei, the oldest of Sasha's fighters—twenty-six. The third—another Andrei—twenty.

The first has an Order of Courage, the second—an Order of Courage and a Medal "For Valor," the third, the youngest, twenty-year-old—an Order of Courage.

And the commander, Sasha, in his thirties—with an iconostasis of his awards.

I'm telling you how it all was.