RomanS
04-15-2004, 02:58 PM
Our first oficial English article.
We present you
BRATISHKA
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Bratishka1.jpg
Magazine of Russian Special Forces
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1b.jpg
CHECHEN FIGHTERS CALL THEMSELVES WOLVES;
FOR EVERY WOLF- THERE IS A WOLFHOUND
Written by Irina Degtyareva
Translated by Roman Stepanov, Brad Doan
This is the chronicle of a Special Unit that fought in the first and second Chechen campaigns. The unit’s first casualty was Private Panteleev, a brave fighter who was killed in 1995. The list of casualties also includes two posthumous recipients of the Hero of Russia medal; Oleg Dolgov, who was shot by a sniper while carrying an injured comrade near Pervomaiksoe, and Eugene Zolotuhin, killed protecting his fellow soldiers during an attempt to apprehend the famous Chechen terrorist Arbi “Tarzan” Baraev at his home. Gudermes, Kizlyar, Pervomaiskoe, Chaban mountain, these are only a few of the well-known operations this unit has participated in.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1c.jpg
Scrambling over slippery rocks, almost plunging over the rim into a deep gorge, charging through the woods of the mountainous terrain, a Spetsnaz team pursues a group of violent terrorists that have broken through the Georgian border into Chechnya. The Russian troops move through the craggy mountains, tracking the terrorists, inspecting every branch and leaf. They pass in and out of the dark forest, their zigzag pattern bringing them dangerously close to the border. The Spetsnaz team doggedly pushes them ever closer to open terrain, keeping them from escaping back across the border into Georgia
They spent five days and nights in the woods, waking up before dawn, quickly eating breakfast. The menu was made out of MRE’s, dry oatmeal and spring water. Equipped and rested, they once more joined the pursuit, tracking the terrorists into the heart of the Chechen mountains. The signs were easy to follow in the mud, horses, donkeys, smaller tracks of women and/or children. There were clearer signs, as well. Bloody bandages, warm ashes, and even dropped flour, not yet blown away by the constant wind.
From radio intercepts it was clear that the “ghosts,” as they were known to the Russian soldiers, were terrified, aware they were being pursued, and by whom. The terrorists call themselves, “wolves of the woods,” but for every wolf, there is a wolfhound…
Only Spetsnaz teams have the ability to pursue armed terrorists through the treacherous mountains and dark forests of Chechnya for days at a time. They tracked their pray with a hunter’s enthusiasm. 50 meters on the map turned out to be 250 when elevation was factored in, but even this rugged terrain didn’t dampen their spirits.
This was not the only Spetsnaz team prowling the woods, however. Often they would here the communications of their brother units, sometimes breaking in to wish each other luck and good hunting. One day, as they continued on the trail of the terrorist group they were tracking, they heard a violent fire-fight erupt in the woods behind them. Over the secure radio they listened as another Spetsnaz group was ambushed. The team was ordered deeper into the woods, away from the action, to await further instructions. The Spetsnaz soldiers waited impatiently for their orders, crouching low, invisible in the woods, they switched their weapons off “safe.” In the distance the battle raged on, small arms fire crackled through the air and several explosions thundered somewhere in the forest. Each soldier quietly gritting his teeth, somehow managing to suppress the urge to run to the aid of their brothers. They had their orders, and they would follow them, no matter how difficult it was.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1a.jpg
Most members of the team were reminded of a similar situation, in the year 2000, when they had wished another group of their brothers luck and good hunting. They shared a base camp and were waiting for the return of their brother team when the bad news began to come in. It came fast. Team commander Lt. Aleksander Bushkov recalled the voice of his friend, Igor Karasanfir, as he yelled over the radio, “GHOOOSTS!!” It was physically painful for Lt. Bushkov and his team listening to the fight over the radio, unable to act. It was crushing when they later learned that Karasanfir and Captain Grushev had been killed.
…And now, in 2002, the team sat anxiously in the woods near Shalazhi waiting for the order to come. After what seemed like an eternity the team was allowed to go to the aid of their brothers. They linked up in the woods, neither team suffering any casualties, but the bodies of several terrorists lay scattered on the wet ground. The remaining terrorists had dropped all of their heavy gear including ammunition, and run like startled deer into the depths of the forest. This was not the first time terrorists had tried to reach Shalazhi, though. Something was drawing them here. Why did they keep trying to break through to this village again and again?
The next morning another Spetsnaz team was engaged by a group of over fifty terrorists near the same village. As the team listened to the battle unfold over the radio, the commander of the ambushed team asked for help. The group was primed and ready. They grabbed their gear and set out to assist their comrades, thanking God that they were only a short kilometer away.
They shot through the countryside like lightning, taking no notice of the beautiful vignettes they passed; the road, river, bridge, the little village tucked beneath the towering mountains that almost touched the clouds. They did feel the sun, which seemed to have declared war on everyone. Dust hung in the hot, still air. The fight was raging in the thick forest near the bridge. The Wolfhounds moved to help their brothers while also sealing the escape routes of the “ghosts.” The BTR armored vehicle of the ambushed team sat disabled on the road, the Spetsnaz troops taking cover nearby, their weapons barking loudly at the enemy
The team was only 200 meters out now. None of them gave any thought to the heat, dust or burning lungs. They ran on, spraying suppressive fire into the suspected Chechen positions. At last they reached their brothers.
The two teams began to concentrate their fire on the positions of the “ghosts.” The battle sounded like hell’s orchestra. They answered every Chechen muzzle flash with the under-barrel grenade launchers while the RPGs where loaded. The lethal RPGs were then unleashed into the areas of contact. Finally, Bushkov order the RPO into action, vaporizing anything within 10 meters of its molten explosion.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/brat1.jpg
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1d.jpg
“Cease fire!” Everything got quiet. The last echoes of the battle dissolving into silence. The team swept through the surrounding forest, finishing any stragglers. The bodies of the dead terrorists were lined up and searched, the team seeking to identify their foes. Many of the dead were Arabs with an astounding array of fake and altered passports from every corner of the globe. Most of the terrorists had good quality western footwear and NATO woodland camouflage clothing, small radios and other expensive toys. Surprisingly, the dead yielded a wide assortment of narcotic drugs. Neither drugs, expensive toys, nor western BDUs had saved them from the Wolfhounds. The Spetsnaz teams had accomplished their mission without a single casualty
Further investigation revealed that some of the terrorists had managed to escape the fate of their friends. As before, they had ditched their heavy gear and run away. This time, however, there were blood trails to follow. Unfortunately, the border was very near, and this area was notorious for the number of ****y traps scattered through the forest. It was too risky to follow them.
The surviving wolves were undoubtedly in bad shape. They were injured, tired and hungry, with all of their supplies now in the hands of Russian Spetsnaz. To add to their difficulties, they could no longer rely on Chechen civilians for aid. Most of the civil population was tired of war and didn’t want to get involved, especially with foreign mercenaries. The wolves had to abandon their plans and quickly retreat to lick their wounds…
The documents recovered from the dead terrorists held a bounty of intelligence information. From these papers the team was able identify and arrest one of Mashadov’s messengers, a crazy, scandalous Chechen woman. The team was also able to identify several weapons caches, one of which was found with the aid of a talented dog from a specialized search team. The dog was able to locate a buried crate filled with deadly tools of the highest order; RPOs, AT-14 Kornets, PKMs, sniper rifles and silencers, as well as more mundane items such as tents, sleeping bags and clothing. The cache also contained several maps
These finds led to more arrests, which led to still more arrests. This one successful engagement had kept the team busy through most of their tour. The team was satisfied that they had done good work and was preparing to return home.
A few days before they were scheduled to fly home, the team was alerted at one in the morning and sent to try to catch a suspected terrorist thought to be in a nearby village. They drove off in a BTR, preparing for the usual “address work” in the village. In the BTR were Sgt.s Maksim Zhukov, Aleksander Kurochkin, Denis Baskov, and a sapper, a PFC who asked not to be named who we will call “Sap.”
After checking three other locations, they stopped at a 2 story house that intel had advised them might be harboring an “Amir” of the “ghosts.” They cleared the house room by room, but found only a confused old man, clearly terrified, sitting on his bed.
The room appeared normal, but a quick search turned up a belt with a radio, two grenades and an empty holster attached to it. Denis Baskov and Sap carefully moved to the window, which was open, and leaned out. Under the window they could see a pair of slippers…
Shots rang out through the still night, shattering the tranquility of the quiet village. The Amir had jumped out the window and was now firing at Baskov and Sap as he fled between the garages and storage facilities through a back alley. Baskov and Sap returned fire then ran out of the house after the fleeing Amir. The team was quickly in pursuit, running through the alleys. It was pitch black, but Sgt. Zhukov somehow found the tracks of bare feet and a muslim prayer cap. One of the other soldiers found some dark drops on the snow. The flashlight proved it to be blood. Good. Baskov and Sap had managed to injure the terrorist leader. The blood trail was easy for the team to follow in the snow. The team moved up the road in two elements providing cover for each other, command group on one side, storm group on the other. The radio crackled as information was relayed to the team. The Amir had radioed for help from his terrorist friends
The trail of dark blood on the snow brought the team to a house at the end of a lane. There was blood on the low gate, but none inside the yard. A brief search revealed that the blood had been hastily concealed with snow. The team found themselves in a very bad situation. They were in the yard of a house thought to contain a terrorist leader, with an unknown number of occupants. Was an ambush being prepared? Was a machine gun trained on them right now?
The team was evaluating the situation, aware that they were in a bad tactical situation, when a light appeared inside the house. Voices could also be heard inside. This Amir was either very dumb or overconfident. Still, the team couldn’t rule out a trap. They needed to act.
The team kicked in the front door, sending it flying into the hallway inside. Sap was the first man in, “slicing the pie” as he looked into the nearest room. A man was sitting on the floor with his back to Sap, tending to the wounded Amir. The Amir had his hand suspiciously tucked under his shirt. A pistol?
No, the Amir was clutching his wounded side. He had lost too much blood to resist, the shots from Sap and Bashkov had caught him, his wrist looked like a carnation flower, another round grazed his chest. The owner of the house was a doctor with sympathies for the terrorists, and the Amir had run straight to him with his ruined hand. The Spetsnaz team handcuffed them both. Fortunately, the Amir had dropped his gun when he was wounded.
The Team searched the house, finding many interesting things. The owner of the house had fake documents from the Afghan war, and a forged ID of an FSB officer. Behind a walnut cabinet was a hole leading into a secret bunker. The bunker was not completed, but it was clear it had been intended for at least 5 people. Most importantly, it had all the supplies needed for a long campaign…
WHILE THERE ARE PEOPLE LIKE THIS, THE WOLVES WILL NEVER BE LEFT ALONE.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1e.jpg
next week, another story from Chechnya.
Thank you all
We present you
BRATISHKA
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Bratishka1.jpg
Magazine of Russian Special Forces
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1b.jpg
CHECHEN FIGHTERS CALL THEMSELVES WOLVES;
FOR EVERY WOLF- THERE IS A WOLFHOUND
Written by Irina Degtyareva
Translated by Roman Stepanov, Brad Doan
This is the chronicle of a Special Unit that fought in the first and second Chechen campaigns. The unit’s first casualty was Private Panteleev, a brave fighter who was killed in 1995. The list of casualties also includes two posthumous recipients of the Hero of Russia medal; Oleg Dolgov, who was shot by a sniper while carrying an injured comrade near Pervomaiksoe, and Eugene Zolotuhin, killed protecting his fellow soldiers during an attempt to apprehend the famous Chechen terrorist Arbi “Tarzan” Baraev at his home. Gudermes, Kizlyar, Pervomaiskoe, Chaban mountain, these are only a few of the well-known operations this unit has participated in.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1c.jpg
Scrambling over slippery rocks, almost plunging over the rim into a deep gorge, charging through the woods of the mountainous terrain, a Spetsnaz team pursues a group of violent terrorists that have broken through the Georgian border into Chechnya. The Russian troops move through the craggy mountains, tracking the terrorists, inspecting every branch and leaf. They pass in and out of the dark forest, their zigzag pattern bringing them dangerously close to the border. The Spetsnaz team doggedly pushes them ever closer to open terrain, keeping them from escaping back across the border into Georgia
They spent five days and nights in the woods, waking up before dawn, quickly eating breakfast. The menu was made out of MRE’s, dry oatmeal and spring water. Equipped and rested, they once more joined the pursuit, tracking the terrorists into the heart of the Chechen mountains. The signs were easy to follow in the mud, horses, donkeys, smaller tracks of women and/or children. There were clearer signs, as well. Bloody bandages, warm ashes, and even dropped flour, not yet blown away by the constant wind.
From radio intercepts it was clear that the “ghosts,” as they were known to the Russian soldiers, were terrified, aware they were being pursued, and by whom. The terrorists call themselves, “wolves of the woods,” but for every wolf, there is a wolfhound…
Only Spetsnaz teams have the ability to pursue armed terrorists through the treacherous mountains and dark forests of Chechnya for days at a time. They tracked their pray with a hunter’s enthusiasm. 50 meters on the map turned out to be 250 when elevation was factored in, but even this rugged terrain didn’t dampen their spirits.
This was not the only Spetsnaz team prowling the woods, however. Often they would here the communications of their brother units, sometimes breaking in to wish each other luck and good hunting. One day, as they continued on the trail of the terrorist group they were tracking, they heard a violent fire-fight erupt in the woods behind them. Over the secure radio they listened as another Spetsnaz group was ambushed. The team was ordered deeper into the woods, away from the action, to await further instructions. The Spetsnaz soldiers waited impatiently for their orders, crouching low, invisible in the woods, they switched their weapons off “safe.” In the distance the battle raged on, small arms fire crackled through the air and several explosions thundered somewhere in the forest. Each soldier quietly gritting his teeth, somehow managing to suppress the urge to run to the aid of their brothers. They had their orders, and they would follow them, no matter how difficult it was.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1a.jpg
Most members of the team were reminded of a similar situation, in the year 2000, when they had wished another group of their brothers luck and good hunting. They shared a base camp and were waiting for the return of their brother team when the bad news began to come in. It came fast. Team commander Lt. Aleksander Bushkov recalled the voice of his friend, Igor Karasanfir, as he yelled over the radio, “GHOOOSTS!!” It was physically painful for Lt. Bushkov and his team listening to the fight over the radio, unable to act. It was crushing when they later learned that Karasanfir and Captain Grushev had been killed.
…And now, in 2002, the team sat anxiously in the woods near Shalazhi waiting for the order to come. After what seemed like an eternity the team was allowed to go to the aid of their brothers. They linked up in the woods, neither team suffering any casualties, but the bodies of several terrorists lay scattered on the wet ground. The remaining terrorists had dropped all of their heavy gear including ammunition, and run like startled deer into the depths of the forest. This was not the first time terrorists had tried to reach Shalazhi, though. Something was drawing them here. Why did they keep trying to break through to this village again and again?
The next morning another Spetsnaz team was engaged by a group of over fifty terrorists near the same village. As the team listened to the battle unfold over the radio, the commander of the ambushed team asked for help. The group was primed and ready. They grabbed their gear and set out to assist their comrades, thanking God that they were only a short kilometer away.
They shot through the countryside like lightning, taking no notice of the beautiful vignettes they passed; the road, river, bridge, the little village tucked beneath the towering mountains that almost touched the clouds. They did feel the sun, which seemed to have declared war on everyone. Dust hung in the hot, still air. The fight was raging in the thick forest near the bridge. The Wolfhounds moved to help their brothers while also sealing the escape routes of the “ghosts.” The BTR armored vehicle of the ambushed team sat disabled on the road, the Spetsnaz troops taking cover nearby, their weapons barking loudly at the enemy
The team was only 200 meters out now. None of them gave any thought to the heat, dust or burning lungs. They ran on, spraying suppressive fire into the suspected Chechen positions. At last they reached their brothers.
The two teams began to concentrate their fire on the positions of the “ghosts.” The battle sounded like hell’s orchestra. They answered every Chechen muzzle flash with the under-barrel grenade launchers while the RPGs where loaded. The lethal RPGs were then unleashed into the areas of contact. Finally, Bushkov order the RPO into action, vaporizing anything within 10 meters of its molten explosion.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/brat1.jpg
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1d.jpg
“Cease fire!” Everything got quiet. The last echoes of the battle dissolving into silence. The team swept through the surrounding forest, finishing any stragglers. The bodies of the dead terrorists were lined up and searched, the team seeking to identify their foes. Many of the dead were Arabs with an astounding array of fake and altered passports from every corner of the globe. Most of the terrorists had good quality western footwear and NATO woodland camouflage clothing, small radios and other expensive toys. Surprisingly, the dead yielded a wide assortment of narcotic drugs. Neither drugs, expensive toys, nor western BDUs had saved them from the Wolfhounds. The Spetsnaz teams had accomplished their mission without a single casualty
Further investigation revealed that some of the terrorists had managed to escape the fate of their friends. As before, they had ditched their heavy gear and run away. This time, however, there were blood trails to follow. Unfortunately, the border was very near, and this area was notorious for the number of ****y traps scattered through the forest. It was too risky to follow them.
The surviving wolves were undoubtedly in bad shape. They were injured, tired and hungry, with all of their supplies now in the hands of Russian Spetsnaz. To add to their difficulties, they could no longer rely on Chechen civilians for aid. Most of the civil population was tired of war and didn’t want to get involved, especially with foreign mercenaries. The wolves had to abandon their plans and quickly retreat to lick their wounds…
The documents recovered from the dead terrorists held a bounty of intelligence information. From these papers the team was able identify and arrest one of Mashadov’s messengers, a crazy, scandalous Chechen woman. The team was also able to identify several weapons caches, one of which was found with the aid of a talented dog from a specialized search team. The dog was able to locate a buried crate filled with deadly tools of the highest order; RPOs, AT-14 Kornets, PKMs, sniper rifles and silencers, as well as more mundane items such as tents, sleeping bags and clothing. The cache also contained several maps
These finds led to more arrests, which led to still more arrests. This one successful engagement had kept the team busy through most of their tour. The team was satisfied that they had done good work and was preparing to return home.
A few days before they were scheduled to fly home, the team was alerted at one in the morning and sent to try to catch a suspected terrorist thought to be in a nearby village. They drove off in a BTR, preparing for the usual “address work” in the village. In the BTR were Sgt.s Maksim Zhukov, Aleksander Kurochkin, Denis Baskov, and a sapper, a PFC who asked not to be named who we will call “Sap.”
After checking three other locations, they stopped at a 2 story house that intel had advised them might be harboring an “Amir” of the “ghosts.” They cleared the house room by room, but found only a confused old man, clearly terrified, sitting on his bed.
The room appeared normal, but a quick search turned up a belt with a radio, two grenades and an empty holster attached to it. Denis Baskov and Sap carefully moved to the window, which was open, and leaned out. Under the window they could see a pair of slippers…
Shots rang out through the still night, shattering the tranquility of the quiet village. The Amir had jumped out the window and was now firing at Baskov and Sap as he fled between the garages and storage facilities through a back alley. Baskov and Sap returned fire then ran out of the house after the fleeing Amir. The team was quickly in pursuit, running through the alleys. It was pitch black, but Sgt. Zhukov somehow found the tracks of bare feet and a muslim prayer cap. One of the other soldiers found some dark drops on the snow. The flashlight proved it to be blood. Good. Baskov and Sap had managed to injure the terrorist leader. The blood trail was easy for the team to follow in the snow. The team moved up the road in two elements providing cover for each other, command group on one side, storm group on the other. The radio crackled as information was relayed to the team. The Amir had radioed for help from his terrorist friends
The trail of dark blood on the snow brought the team to a house at the end of a lane. There was blood on the low gate, but none inside the yard. A brief search revealed that the blood had been hastily concealed with snow. The team found themselves in a very bad situation. They were in the yard of a house thought to contain a terrorist leader, with an unknown number of occupants. Was an ambush being prepared? Was a machine gun trained on them right now?
The team was evaluating the situation, aware that they were in a bad tactical situation, when a light appeared inside the house. Voices could also be heard inside. This Amir was either very dumb or overconfident. Still, the team couldn’t rule out a trap. They needed to act.
The team kicked in the front door, sending it flying into the hallway inside. Sap was the first man in, “slicing the pie” as he looked into the nearest room. A man was sitting on the floor with his back to Sap, tending to the wounded Amir. The Amir had his hand suspiciously tucked under his shirt. A pistol?
No, the Amir was clutching his wounded side. He had lost too much blood to resist, the shots from Sap and Bashkov had caught him, his wrist looked like a carnation flower, another round grazed his chest. The owner of the house was a doctor with sympathies for the terrorists, and the Amir had run straight to him with his ruined hand. The Spetsnaz team handcuffed them both. Fortunately, the Amir had dropped his gun when he was wounded.
The Team searched the house, finding many interesting things. The owner of the house had fake documents from the Afghan war, and a forged ID of an FSB officer. Behind a walnut cabinet was a hole leading into a secret bunker. The bunker was not completed, but it was clear it had been intended for at least 5 people. Most importantly, it had all the supplies needed for a long campaign…
WHILE THERE ARE PEOPLE LIKE THIS, THE WOLVES WILL NEVER BE LEFT ALONE.
http://simondog.com//Kafir/Brat1e.jpg
next week, another story from Chechnya.
Thank you all