Stemningsrapport fra en mobik.
"Atmosphere of war
Let me explain why we want peace here.
Firstly, the constant proximity of death. Several events of the last 3 months, after arriving from vacation.
“A friend with whom we served from the very beginning after the regiment entered the Zone has died. [He was] also a puddle guard. He was written off as unnecessary (apparently, electrician drivers, with the civil qualification “electrician”, we have a document and more in the regiment), ended up in an assault company. He had no infantry training and died a month after his transfer. He died for nothing. And he remained lying in neutral [area]. Whether the body was pulled out or not is unknown.
— New faces have appeared in the small construction team. A couple of new contract soldiers from the infantry, from the stormtroopers. One serves for 2 months, out of his party of 24 people, during this time 14 have already died, the rest are wounded. After being wounded, he was transferred to the rear. The second one signed the contract back in the winter, in January - all of his small group of acquaintances were dead.
— We arrive at a village store and find out from the saleswoman that her husband was killed by hohols. He was driving along the road with goods in a civilian car and was attacked by FPV.
— In principle, any trip at a depth of up to 20 km from the contact line is associated with the risk of getting an FPV. Every time it's a lottery. Every now and then along the road, you can see the burnt-out carcass of an armored personnel carrier, civilian vehicles or Urals. Like in Afghanistan.
- Open the Internet. There is SMO and a million faces of death, the triumph of the destruction of enemies.
— There is a world of animals around us. Last fall and winter we killed mice, they left in the spring. Mosquitoes and flies came. Toads and frogs jumped after them. Snakes came for their souls. Now the mice have returned - the weasel has come running after them. Everyone is eating each other.
I think these examples are enough for the imagination.
Second. It's hot, scorching.
Exhausting constant heat over +35, when you are all wet. However, the dugouts are not only stuffy, but also damp, and you have to burn out the mold. Drink water and sweat. And drink water again.
And in the fall for the third time, there will be downpours and sticky mud. For the third time, we will be all in the mud. The dugouts will flow again.
And in winter, for the third time, we will freeze and huddle near the heaters in the cold. Then a thaw, another game of submariners, a struggle for the survivability of the dugout so as not to flood. It's frosty again, everything's seizing up again. Then it melts. Then the third spring will come...
Thirdly, it stinks. There are several cesspools in the forest area. If the wind blows along it, then the smell of shit is almost continuous. To put it another way, when you walk along the path about your business, you are periodically doused with a warm stench. There is a blue sky overhead, yellow grass in the fields, and pits of shit along the forest shelves - and all this is Ukraine.
Even with a source of water nearby, it’s not easy to wash and do laundry—there’s a queue of people waiting. Therefore, you sit in a stuffy, moldy dugout and inhale the stench from the armpit and crotch sweat of those around you, with the cardboard aroma of dirty socks and worn-out shoes. Added to this is tobacco smoke and mouse shit.
Fourthly, dust in the warm season, dampness in the cold season. The chesty cough hardly goes away. You return from an escort mission, sneeze and cough several times into a square of perfectly white toilet paper. On white you see light gray interspersed with black. You go to the washbasin. Gray water flows down to the elbows. As, indeed, from the face. You look in the mirror - a tanned, thin face with a pair of shiny eyes, in which the whites glow white, but with a pink network of blood vessels, looks back at you. You wink at the reflection: “Handsome, hang in there
.”
Death, sweat, stench, dust, waste of energy, zero good news until recently. No one gives a fuck about our replacement. Constantly hanging emotional debts instead of those already paid: “Protecting Donbas from conquest is not enough! They are waiting for us in Kyiv, they are waiting for us in Odessa, they are waiting for us in Uzhgorod and Lvov! And then immediately Poland! We are counting on you!”
This is what the daily atmosphere of war looks like.
I don’t even know why we want this protracted party to end?))"
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