Stories of military doctors in Chechnya. How I was a nurse in Chechnya. The machine was not useful
I don’t think we will ever know who killed the International Red Cross workers in Novye Atagi. Today the last islands of mercy are disappearing in Chechnya - doctors are leaving
Russian politics
...P It looked like someone large, invisible, was holding a hand over this place. Almost in the center of Grozny, among the ruins so terrible that they no longer caused horror, by some miracle several buildings of the 4th city hospital were preserved. The damp wind ruffled the once white flag with a faded red cross. In the most terrible time, they helped everyone who came, crawled, or brought. All the days and nights of January and February 1995, three doctors and two nurses remained here: surgeon Vakho Khozheliev, his son Ruslan, Magomet Sulomov, Elena and Galina Kasyanov. They were the only civilian doctors in the warring city. They delivered babies, operated on appendicitis and gunshot wounds, and tore sheets into bandages. They were not interested in the identity of those being treated. The doctors did not allow militants, riot police or anyone with weapons into the hospital. Surprisingly, they all survived. In any case, they were alive at the beginning of March 1995. Then we were met on the threshold of the hospital by a small, middle-aged man with a stern face in a high, sterile white (how did they manage it?) doctor’s cap - the chief and at that time only surgeon Vakho Khozheliev: “Why didn’t you leave? The sick came..."
I remembered the little surgeon and all five of them when I listened to the tragic reports from the village of Novye Atagi. I was not familiar with the killed members of the International Red Cross mission. But, I think, in some main ways, these people from Switzerland, Norway, Spain were similar to those from the 4th hospital in Grozny, to all the doctors who died and survived in this war, and to those who have yet to die or survive , because it is not true that the Chechen war is over, no matter how much we want it...
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IN In December 1994, the word “war” had not yet been uttered in Moscow. And in Mozdok it was as common as “water” or, for example, “weather”. The wounded were brought from the war to a military hospital. Refugees and civilians, also with gunshot wounds, were sent to the “Zashchita” disaster medicine hospital. His orange and blue tents stood on the territory of a military base, behind a thorn.
The district hospital in Znamenskaya was practically inactive, as was the entire Chechen medicine during the “Dudaev” years. I won’t overuse statistics, I’ll just mention one figure: 120 infant deaths per thousand births. This is despite the fact that we consider our indicator unacceptably huge: 18 per thousand.
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IN The crayfish were already dying then. Even then, ambulance helicopters were shot down.
General Pogodin, who led all military medicine in Chechnya, named the following figures in February 1995: in a month and a half of the war, 9 military doctors and 4 medical instructors died. All while fulfilling my professional duty. Then the numbers were not published. It is also unknown how many doctors were among the civilians killed in Chechnya.
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IN Gennady Grigorievich Onishchenko brought us, a film crew from the then Central Television, to the 4th city hospital of Grozny. This man spent 140 of the first 280 days of the war in Chechnya. Now he is the chief state sanitary doctor of the Russian Federation, then he was the deputy chairman of the State Committee for Sanitary and Epidemiological Supervision. I think that the ferocious cholera epidemic of 1994 did not recur in Chechnya in 1995, and that polio was stopped and many other dormant infections did not flare up is largely Onishchenko’s personal merit.
Onishchenko and the small but well-organized, strong-willed and knowledgeable medical “army” he called up followed the war in its wake. They restored sanitary and epidemiological stations (I don’t know how and where Onishchenko got equipment and reagents, but he did), they revived the service, which was destroyed not only and not so much by the war. Already in Grozny, doctors learned about the consequences of the cholera epidemic of 1994, which, it turns out, raged in Chechnya even worse than in Dagestan (1000 people were ill, the number of deaths is unknown, Chechnya refused the help of Russian doctors), about the threat of anthrax (an destroyed the burial of dead livestock), about the activation of three natural plague foci. They fought against hepatitis, dysentery, and diphtheria. They took samples, examined water and soil, carried out vaccination campaigns...
Onishchenko was kidnapped in the afternoon, at the entrance to Grozny, on the road from Mozdok. Gazik was stopped by two young militants. They blocked the road with their car and pointed machine guns at the driver. They said: “They specifically tracked you down.” Onishchenko drove without a weapon, and perhaps this saved him and the driver. He himself believes that the “nationality” column in the passport helped him out - it says “Ukrainian”. I think that Onishchenko’s amazing self-control saved him. Several times they really started to shoot him, but each time they managed with threats and curses. Maybe the bandits weren't too seasoned. In general, it ended with the car, money and documents being taken away, they were thrown onto the road at night, with a warning not to appear in Chechnya again: “Next time we’ll definitely kill you.”
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WITH The sanitary-epidemiological brigade in Grozny was based in an area protected by special forces. The doctors lived in something like a barracks, hastily knocked together from plywood. A laboratory was equipped in the old carriage - the inside, as expected, shone with sterility. It was strictly forbidden to leave the barracks after dark. And I didn’t want to go out - machine gun fire was heard in the night, people were talking, the nearest checkpoint was being fired upon, the thin walls were shaking from artillery cannonade.
Nearby, the Zashchita hospital is located in its red and blue tents. Periodically, he was fired upon from cars rushing past at breakneck speed.
Who? Why? For what? How many such questions have been raised by the Chechen war! And how few answers there are...
I don't think we'll ever know who killed the International Red Cross. For weeks we have been told that the names of the criminals are known to the Chechen special services, but in the interests of the investigation they are not disclosed. For mercy's sake, what is the consequence? Who needs the intricate political and criminal constructions that are now being built to explain this barbaric murder. Everything could be much simpler: maybe someone’s relative died in the hospital. It doesn't matter that his illness or injury was incompatible with life. There must be culprits who need revenge. This does not contradict Sharia laws “in Chechen style” - just like the seizure of a hospital. “Modern Robin Hoods” (as defined by Sergei Kovalev), hiding behind hostages, including doctors, women in labor, tiny children, and frail old people, use these methods to “turn the tide of the war” and earn points for the political future.
In the winter of 1995 and the summer of 1996, on the hottest days, between bitterly embittered opponents there were tiny islands of mercy, over which a flag with a red cross was raised, where people went for help, for kindness, even for justice. Troops have already been withdrawn from Chechnya, peaceful construction is underway, they say, and free elections are just around the corner. And the islands of mercy are disappearing - although the need for them has not disappeared at all, doctors know very well how much the wounded republic needs them. But we have to pull back, because for today’s Chechnya, a white flag with a red cross is, first of all, an excellent target.
Photo N. Medvedeva, REUTER
Our special correspondent Yaroslava Tankova worked for three weeks in Khankala, in military hospital No. 22
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They don't like Chechen fighters. Even their own
Dinner. Most of our charges are walking, albeit with plastered limbs. Bedridden people remain in empty wards. Many are waiting for our help. I quickly pour in the milk soup and stuff the porridge and lard into one fighter. Next up is a Chechen amputee fighter - without both legs. A very young boy from the Chechen special forces. During the battle, my legs were torn off at the knees by an explosion. If they had operated right away, it would have been possible to save the knee above. But while they were getting out of the forest, the bone began to rot. I had to grab it at the root. He can't even sit.
I start feeding. He eats the milk soup. He flatly refuses the second one - a Muslim is not allowed to eat lard.
Well, at least eat some porridge!
Turns away. I begin to persuade: “You are a warrior. You can. You lost a lot of blood.” Not at all. Damn!
An hour later I am outside the hospital - in a grocery store in a military camp. There are always huge queues here - there are only three shops. I pull out of my pocket a bunch of notes with wrapped money - orders from the soldiers, what to buy. Towards the end I wonder if there is beef sausage. Unfortunately no. I'm running to look. Otherwise my Muslims will die of hunger. By the time I find everything, an hour passes.
Where have you been so much? - my partner Lena is interested.
Well, while I found some beef sausage for our “Czechs”...
And for me, so that they all die!
Well, Lenochka, they are not militants, they are fighting on our side. The FSB officers shook them, when they arrived, they found out everything. They got it anyway.
I can not. I still hate them all.
I do not argue. Lenka’s husband, an officer, died in a helicopter shot down over Khankala and his sister. She worked, like Lena, as a nurse. Now she has three children (one of her own, two of her sister, who was unmarried) and an elderly mother. Lena earns a living for the whole crowd here, and her mother pulls out the kids with all her strength. I cannot, I have no right to blame this really very kind and sincere nurse for not being able to forgive the Chechens for her broken life.
But I also feel sorry for this mangled boy. It is not his fault that his relatives sawed off the throat of a Russian soldier with a dull knife. This guy went to fight with them on the side of all of Russia. He paid with his blood. I cannot sympathize with his wounds any less than with the wounds of the Russian soldier lying next to him.
Militants in the hospital
Bruised testicles. “We need to apply a bandage,” the doctor commands, pointing to a Chechen guy with an amputated leg. He said and left. But the Chechen doesn’t understand a word of Russian. And when the dressing nurse and I reached out with our hands to the secret, he began to huddle and stare in horror.
We vied with each other to try to explain that this was necessary. The guy only clamped down even more in response and almost kicked.
Rina! - I rushed into the corridor after the Chechen nurse. - Explain to this idiot what a testicular bruise is and why a bandage is needed!
A modest virgin (like all unmarried Chechen women) Rina blushed, but courageously entered the room. An inseparable couple of wounded but walking Chechen special forces entered with her. Then the circus began. Apparently, in Chechen “bruise of the testicles” is a very long and ornate phrase. Changing her face, Rina pronounced it for about five minutes. Or maybe she just started from afar, but the commandos were simply crawling on all fours laughing.
Only after this did the guy give in and allow his jewel to be bandaged.
Not even a minute had passed before an altercation broke out at the nurses' station. Our wounded Chechens started smoking again after lights out. Irka sneezes at them, and they snap at them.
Don't poke me!
You are my age! And here, in the hospital, for the first time in my life they demand that I call a woman “you.”
“Unfortunate fighter,” hisses Irinka, frustrated.
Sisters usually have problems with Chechens. And there is no need to look for the guilty here. Different mentality, many have subconscious hostility.
In addition, Chechens feel that they are not being singled out for the best and are prepared in advance for aggression. For example, they are all necessarily interrogated by the FSB. Wounded, amputees - everyone. And until they thoroughly check, even the heaviest ones will not be evacuated. In war conditions this is logical, but it offends them.
And real militants - it happened - also ended up in the hospital. All the girls remember how a wounded man was brought into the department with tape over his eyes and in a separate room they handcuffed him to the bed. Apparently he was a serious bandit. The sisters were forbidden to talk to him at all. Answer even the most innocent questions. The girls say that she can remember the voice, and then she will take revenge for healing the wounds of Russian soldiers. In Chechnya, there were indeed cases when militants killed girls just because they communicated with Russian fighters.
But with greater hostility, the nurses recall how a Chechen woman was “injured.” Either Raya or Louise - she named new names every day. She herself said that she was among the militants. And that among the suicide bombers at Nord-Ost were her sisters.
The sisters, of course, chased her. But the head of the department asked them to be more gentle with her. Like, what will you take from the wretched one? Darkness grew in the village.
A piece of memory
The scariest place on the floor is the dressing room. Passing by the door, you involuntarily listen. There are moans and screams... And even if there is silence, you can imagine how the guy, who is now having peroxide wipes shoved into his living meat, has his eyes closed and is counting pink elephants so as not to scream. Five minutes ago, you blew on every scratch, so that it wouldn’t hurt, and wrapped him in pajamas. And now they are tearing off the bandages with skin that are stuck to the wound, because there is no time to nurse. A surgeon is not a nurse; he is supposed to be tough and hard, like his instruments.
The first time I had the opportunity to attend the dressing of gunshot wounds. They brought in two contract soldiers who were injured in the collision. These are not boys. Already grown men, strong, with a confident look, perhaps even cruel. They came to the war from Rostov of their own free will - to earn money.
The first guy lies down on the couch and the nurse removes his temporary, blood-soaked bandage. At this time, the doctor asks questions: when, under what circumstances, what exactly was injured?
The bandage has been removed. The hand is swollen. There is a black hole at the base of the thumb. The same, but smaller, on the wrist. The sister hands over a wet napkin, and the doctor washes the wounds with it. The gauze, brown with blood, flies into a basin on the floor, followed by another, and so on until the wounds become pure red. Then - inspection with a knitting needle. This is when a thin, long instrument with a hook at the end is poked into the very core of the wound. A terrible sight. Another fragment is in the cheek, but it has already been pulled out. And another one behind the ear... Stop.
Are you sure you got this fragment?
I think so.
The doctor carefully examines the swollen wound behind the soldier's ear. Again a napkin with peroxide, again a knitting needle. And a torn piece of metal the size of a pea is brought to light. The head fragment is quite large.
For you to remember! - the doctor gives the fragment to the fighter.
A nurse is treating a head wound.
Next!
“We’ll have to extend the contract, otherwise they’ll decide - I’m scared”
The second contract soldier had his nose broken by shrapnel and his arm torn.
Will you be Georgian? - the doctor jokes, examining and treating the wounded bridge of the nose, and commands the nurse: “Sling bandage.”
This is when the nose is bandaged, the edges of the bandage are tied behind the ears, and the fighter between the sisters receives the comic nickname “piglet.”
The wound on the hand is much worse. It is 10 centimeters long and fell apart like a “tulip”. The worst thing is that it is undesirable for a fighter to inject novocaine. After the battle, they took a long time to get out of the forest and, apparently, the dose of painkillers he received was too high. Therefore, the doctor orders me to keep Novocaine at the ready, but does not inject it yet.
The execution begins with gauze inserted into the wound. A quiet crunch is heard. To avoid yelling, the fighter chews on the couch.
Be quiet, or you'll break your teeth. Be patient,” the doctor says calmly.
While the doctor is changing the napkin, I hear the fighter whisper: “I’ll find the spirit, I’ll cut it into small pieces,” and again the crunch of the couch. Finally, he can’t stand it: “I can’t take it anymore, give me Novocaine!”
Be patient, I’m already finishing,” the doctor is unperturbed.
I slowly take the fighter’s good hand and squeeze. He squeezes back. Stronger, even stronger... Every touch to the wound is felt in this squeeze. My fingers are crunching, but I endure. If he can bear it...
The contract ends in two weeks,” the fighter says thoughtfully.
Well, that’s good, as soon as you get better, you can go home,” my sister smiles.
No. If I leave now, they will say I was scared. I will renew the contract.
What about your wife and children? How are they? Who cares what they say! - I'm completely at a loss.
The man looks dreamily at the ceiling:
Yes, I miss my children and my wife... But I will still extend it.
And after some time, a contract officer was brought to the department with a slight injury. As it turned out later, he was already in “trauma” and his foot was amputated. But with a prosthesis he went to war again. The sisters greeted the officer like an old friend:
Dmitry Petrovich! What are you doing in the war? Enough! Let others fight.
Who else needs me? My wife left... And I can’t do anything else professionally, just kill.
HOW MANY WOUNDED AND KILLED?
The days when I worked at the Khankala hospital turned out to be relatively peaceful. That is, no special incidents occurred. But even then, on average, we received at least one wounded person per day. And about 20 corpses were brought to the morgue. But we must take into account that there is another hospital in Chechnya - Severny. And it, too, is replenished daily with mutilated boys.
According to the helicopter pilots who constantly transport these wounded to hospitals, on average two people die and ten are wounded per day in Chechnya.
On days when terrorist attacks occur, these numbers increase greatly. For example, among the most recent dates, the nurses remember with particular horror the day of the elections - March 14, when, as a result of several explosions, 14 amputee soldiers were admitted to the “trauma” of Khankala.
WHAT DO THEY EAT
The food in the hospital is tolerable. Soups can even be delicious. But everything is made with lard, which gets boring very quickly.
Breakfast: semolina porridge (water to taste), a piece of butter, bread, tea.
Lunch: rice soup with lard, pearl barley porridge with lard with a boiled piece of lard, sauerkraut, tea (judging by the fat circles on the surface, also with lard).
Afternoon snack: cookies, tea.
Dinner: mashed potatoes, fried fish.
There are several disadvantages:
Anything made with milk (for example, milk soup) is highly diluted with water and tasteless.
The oil is very often moldy.
It is not clear why there are almost no fruits and vegetables on the menu. Is it really impossible to get basic apples and cucumbers on the fertile soil of the Caucasus? After all, the wounded need vitamins. And orchards were preserved even in Grozny, destroyed by the war.
War is not only about victories and defeats. War is primarily pain. This is a mortal abyss into which you can fall every second. And often the only one who can keep you on the edge of this abyss is a medic, a doctor.
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Military paramedic Oleg Golyzhbin has played a similar role more than once. Returning from Chechnya, he presented his diaries to the editors. It is unlikely that anyone else, watching from the outside, could write so poignantly about the war. During these difficult days, photojournalist Sergei Sidorov also worked alongside front-line doctors. We are publishing their joint report.
Upon arrival, we doctors were almost driven into the mountains by sniper groups. Well, we were given a mini operating room with autonomous power supply. They somehow convinced us that we should be with her. Life already proved us right the next day.
In the evening, information was received: a group of militants of 70 people entered the village of Komsomolskoye. There was a cleanup to be done.
Having escaped from Grozny and sat in the mountains, Gelayev (and the village of Komsomolskoye was his patrimony) decided to give battle.
In the morning at 7.30 our special forces arrived on the outskirts of the village. Machine gun fire and grenade explosions were heard in the village. A reconnaissance company of the 503rd Tank Regiment was already working there.
We were immediately called to the wounded. These were civilians.
The cleanup starts at 8.30. In half an hour, the main forces are brought in. The first to go were the special forces of the internal troops, followed by the special forces of the Ministry of Justice, riot police with SOBR, and a company of the 33rd brigade of the Internal Troops of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.
Russian troops surrounded the village on three sides.
And immediately the first wounded appeared: two scouts. One was wounded lightly, in the arm, the other – seriously, in the thigh.
A soldier wounded in the wrist arrived. His excellent reaction saved him. He was the first to shoot at point-blank range and kill the militant. Another wounded him.
From the Argun Gorge, Gelayev brought the main forces of the gang into the village. The gang destroyed the outpost of the 503rd Regiment.
Cleaning up again. When the special forces approached the middle of the village, the bandits opened heavy fire on them.
Paramedic Shchukin collapsed under the nearest hillock and lay in a puddle for an hour and a half.
Our people began to retreat. One soldier, who was wounded in the back by a sniper, ran to the commander, shouting “Give me Mukha!” I saw a sniper! He grabbed a grenade launcher and, in a state of semi-shock, fired into the house. No one else fired from there.
Then this soldier drove the armored personnel carrier with one good hand, covering the retreat of the special forces.
In the battle, 28 people were wounded and one was killed. In short, we had enough work.
Komsomolskoe is surrounded by a dense ring of troops. Stormtroopers ironed the village at low altitudes.
In the evening, 8 militants surrendered. One turned out to be Ukrainian. He said that in his squad there are two snipers - women. They are commanded by his fellow countryman, a Ukrainian.
Our medical team is working at full capacity. We set up our tents and turned on the lights. The wounded were also received in this way at night. The wounded were rarely reported one person at a time, usually from 2 to 6–8 people.
Surgeon A. Repin and paramedic A. Shchukin worked with the incoming wounded.
Anesthesiologist A. Lipsky and I, a paramedic, carried out anti-shock therapy.
Previously, the evacuation of the wounded took place during the day, but now they were transported by helicopter at night. I also flew with Lipsky, and, thank God, not a single one of the seriously wounded was lost.
We learned on the radio from Moscow that the village of Komsomolskoye was controlled by our troops, but in reality we had 20 wounded and 10 killed. On this day alone, 6 aircraft were sent to the Mozdok hospital.
At 19.30 Corporal Chuchalov was brought in. A grenade launcher shell bounced off his shin. It was a difficult operation. The shell was removed, hiding the wounded and medical personnel behind cars and tanks. Who knew how grenade launcher ammunition would behave.
They cut out the grenade, and surgeon Repin amputated this part of the leg.
While combing the liberated territory, a Chechen woman, a certain Khasieva, was caught. She looked suspicious - clean clothes, an unworn bag. She had shrapnel wounds. They bandaged her and kept watch all night. Then they sent me to Khankala.
The militants attempted to leave the village.
Ours finally captured the center of the village. On this day, 47 people were wounded.
Progress deeper was very slow. The militants had many pillboxes and cracks in their houses. They tried to go to the rear.
Wounded sappers began to arrive at our first aid station. The militants laid many mines with surprises.
These are terrible moments when they bring in a young, strong guy whose legs are torn off up to his buttocks. You know that in 3-4 days he will die, but you fight and fight for his life.
And when you fly in a helicopter and a wounded man loses his pulse, you do your best to keep him on doping, increasing his blood pressure. I had this. There is no longer any breathing. I rush for the oxygen apparatus. Does not help. I do mouth-to-mouth artificial respiration, and - oh... miracle! - there is vomit, the wounded man takes a breath, comes to his senses, feels the pain of the wound and yells obscenities. And for me this is the best music. I already know he will live.
In the morning, Lieutenant Colonel Alexander Zhukov, head of the search and rescue service of the North Caucasus Military District, who was captured by bandits, was brought to us.
80 militants surrendered.
The militants thought that the front ring had been removed. They walked without hiding. Then they were covered with fire and a trap was made. The next morning, 50 killed bandits were discovered.
Only suicide bombers holed up in bunkers offered resistance. Sergei Tikhonov was admitted to us with a perforating lung wound. Lieutenant Colonel Zhukov had the same wound. The militants deliberately shot the lungs of prisoners so that they could not escape.
We were removed from our position. When we drove past the cemetery in Urus-Martan, about 60 graves towered over it. The funeral was still going on.
Victory was not easy for us either - during the fighting in the village of Komsomolskoye, 252 people were wounded and 69 people were killed.
What does it mean to be a doctor in war, is it possible to stifle your fear, and why do field surgeons try not to perform amputations? “Defend Russia” talked about this with Hero of the Russian Federation, lieutenant colonel of the medical service in reserve, Vladimir Belov.
Three months of war
I asked to go to Chechnya myself. And he didn’t do it out of some lofty feelings. I just knew that in war there are always not enough doctors and surgeons. At that time I was a qualified doctor, a military field surgeon, and I knew that I had to be there. I arrived in Grozny on January 7, 1995 with the combined regiment of the Tula airborne division.
The first thing I felt when I found myself in Grozny was fear. For the first time in my life, I felt ice behind my sternum. But despite this fear, I had to do my job. I guess I got over it. The dominant of the work stood higher than this icicle. It’s impossible to get used to fear, but I had to keep busy. Yes, I was scared, but here in front of you are these wounded boys, covered in blood. Here, either sit in a corner and tremble, or be afraid, but do it.
As soon as we entered the city, we were closed. The encirclement continued for five days. By January 12, the Marines arrived and kicked out the bandits. We equipped a first-aid post in the very center of the city, in Lenin Park. At first, my colleagues and I operated on the wounded in dressing machines. But after one of the shellings, we moved the first-aid post to the building of the Terek restaurant, to the basement. We also had an operating room there.
There were a lot of wounded. And killed. I won’t give the exact number, but when our regiment entered Grozny, it consisted of one and a half thousand personnel. By the time Argun was captured in March 1995, the regiment had lost fifty percent of its strength in killed and wounded.
The paratroopers fought to the death, and we operated. Our task at that moment was one - to save the lives of the soldiers. We hoped for greater hospital capabilities and did everything to ensure that the wounded lived to see them.
I tried not to do amputations, so that the person in the hospital would be given an Elizarov apparatus and the limb would be fused. My colleagues and I tried to do as little surgical intervention as possible, and as little irreversible surgery as possible, such as amputation of limbs or removal of affected organs.
In some places I did drainage, in others I did artificial suturing of blood vessels. Sometimes he connected the vessels with a piece of tubing from an IV, knowing that in the hospital these vessels would be sewn together correctly. He also tried to save his broken fingers, splinted the crushed bones with scraps of rubber hose and sent people for evacuation.
The main thing in that situation was to clean the wounds and remove crushed tissue. There was a case when a soldier came to us with a gunshot wound to the skull, but there were no neurosurgical instruments. The wound canal in the bone had to be expanded with a dental elevator. I removed fragments of broken brain matter from the wound and sent him alive.
After Grozny we went to Argun. In March. Just then, new additions arrived to the regiment and military doctors arrived to replace us. But the regiment commander said that he would not let us go home until Argun was captured. So he said: “I fought with you, I captured Grozny, and I can rely on you. But I don’t know the new ones in business yet.”
Near Argun I had to take up the machine gun. During one of the battles, a detachment of militants came to our rear and we, together with the wounded, held the defense. Thanks to the reconnaissance company, which jumped up fifteen minutes later and killed them all. To be honest, I don’t want to remember this at all. I will say one thing - that quarter of an hour was enough for me for the rest of my life.
Despite that terrible situation, we had everything we needed to provide medical assistance. Everything you need. There was enough food to sometimes give something to local children. Even during the period of encirclement in Grozny, when preparing the wounded for evacuation, we dressed each of them in new underwear - a shirt and underpants, and put them in a new warm sleeping bag. When other participants in that war told me that they did not have something - for example, food or medicine, I answered that they had a lousy rear service. And the rear of the Airborne Forces was wonderful. I don't praise anyone, but we had everything.
Stories of the Saved
Then I saw two military men whom I provided medical assistance to. Many years later, when I was working in another place, a man came to me with a deformed, burned face. We had an argument, he started raising his voice at me, and I said: “Young man, don’t yell at me. I’m shell-shocked, I might as well send you to hell.” And he answered me: “So what? I’m shell-shocked myself.” In general, word for word, I asked where he was shell-shocked and it turned out that in 1995 he passed through our first aid station. His name is Pavel Menshikov.
Another person whom I later met more than once was the military doctor of the Yurga motorized rifle brigade, Evgeny Leonenko. One night they were sent to positions to help someone. But they were ambushed and the militants burned their armored personnel carrier. Out of the entire medical team, he survived. It’s amazing how he, with multiple shrapnel wounds, thermal burns and concussion, was able to get out of the burning armored personnel carrier. Even he couldn't explain it.
He was lucky that there was an open sewer hatch next to their car, and Leonenko fell into it. And the sewerage system in the city has not worked for a long time. He crawled for three days, lost consciousness, then crawled again. When he climbed up behind our positions, he was almost shot. He was a terrible sight - barely alive, wounded and covered from head to toe with sewage.
He was in critical condition, and he might not have survived in our situation. All we could do in those conditions was to wash him and treat his wounds and burns. The commander decided to evacuate him at night. And this is very dangerous. Nevertheless, they formed a column of three infantry fighting vehicles. The first gun was turned to the left, and the last one was turned to the right. The wounded man was placed in the middle one. And so the armored vehicles simultaneously turned on their headlights, began shooting from all sides on all sides, and rushed forward at full throttle. And so we managed to escape from Grozny.
Leonenko was unconscious for a month. During this time, his wife received a “funeral message”, saying that your husband was missing. He was able to tell her about his salvation only when he came to his senses. By this time he was transferred to the St. Petersburg Military Medical Academy, to the military field surgery clinic.
I also remember one boy, a Marine. Korean by nationality. He told me that he is the champion of Russia in taekwondo. He received a gunshot wound to the thigh. Part of the bone was simply blown apart, but I did not amputate his leg; again, I operated on it to a minimum and prepared him for evacuation to the hospital. He kept asking if he could play sports, and I reassured him, saying, of course you can, in the hospital they will get you back on your feet. True, I haven’t met him since then. I don’t know whether they saved his limb or not?
Star instead of a cross
After returning to Moscow, I was given a month of vacation. During this time, I received nominations for two orders of courage - for Grozny and for Argun.
Upon returning to the unit, to the 27th brigade, I went to the personnel officers, they say, where are my awards? And they say: “In fact, you were introduced to the Hero.” At first I thought they were making fun of me. Well, what kind of hero am I?
At the end of July, in the afternoon, I was informed that the brigade commander urgently required me to join him. Colonel Generalov Sergei Evgenievich. He yells, they say, like mad: “Where is Belov?”, but this was usually not the case with him. Well, I think that's it. An emergency happened in the brigade, but I don’t know. I went into his office, and then Generalov jumped up, ran up to me and began to break my ribs in his arms, and he was a very strong man. Your nomination for Hero has been approved, he says, get your ceremonial jacket ready!
But I didn’t go soon to get the reward. The decree was signed in July 1995, but I was awarded the gold star only on February 23, 1996. By that time I began to think that this was all probably a joke. And then we went to the Kremlin. It was very exciting. You can treat Yeltsin in different ways, but at that moment he was not a person for me, but rather a symbol. After all, the head of state presents the country's highest award.
Be a military doctor
A few years later I retired. Now I am engaged in educational work at the Second Moscow Medical University named after N.I. Pirogov. It so happened that during my life I met many very interesting people - veterans of the Great Patriotic War, military personnel, heroes. I invite them to the university so that students can see them with their own eyes and ask them about something. On the eve of Victory Day, Hero of the Soviet Union Sergei Nikitich Reshetov visited us. He received a gold star on March 21, 1945 for crossing the Danube River. He took part in the liberation of Vienna, being a company commander. In war, this is the most difficult leadership link - the platoon commander and company commander.
You may not believe it, but after the meeting the students did not let him go for another hour and a half, asking him about something. Some guys and girls came up to look and, excuse me, just “touch” the veteran - it was difficult for them to realize that a living legend was standing next to him.
I myself teach classes to students. Now military departments have been eliminated in civilian medical universities, although some of our graduates will go to serve - if not in the armed forces, then in the border or internal troops. We talk about different topics, but I always try to convey to them what it means to be a military doctor and, especially, a military doctor in a combat situation.
Speaking about various military conflicts, until now we have hardly touched on one issue that worries all participants: providing medical care to the wounded directly on the battlefield. Today, the main principle of helping a wounded person in the army has become: “Get him from here to the hospital, they’ll sort him out there.” In Chechnya in 1995, I became convinced that the majority of those who died before entering the hospital or in the first hours after being wounded could survive if they were immediately provided with full medical care within 30-40 minutes after being wounded.
In our army it is believed (at least this is the impression one gets) that it is possible to normally treat a wounded person only further away from the place of combat contact and only in a medical unit no lower than a separate medical battalion or detachment. For medical personnel it is indeed safer and calmer to work there, but, as The experience of local wars and peacekeeping operations shows that it is not always possible to quickly evacuate the wounded there.
For example, during the December battles in Gudermes, the wounded could not be taken out of the railway station building for a week. The evacuation of even one person from a checkpoint to a hospital can last 3-4 hours.
The wounded die or end up in the hospital in a state where medicine is no longer effective. This happens because with most combat wounds, a serious and fatal complication develops very quickly - in just 5-10 minutes - shock. It leads to respiratory and cardiac problems.
In medicine there is the concept of the “golden hour”: if a wounded person is given full medical care within the first hour, then 90% will survive. If help is provided within two hours, 10% will survive.
In order to help the victim, you need to have at your disposal painkillers and hormonal drugs that help fight shock, blood replacement fluids to replenish the volume of lost blood, antibiotics to prevent infection and means of stopping bleeding (bandaging bags, tourniquets, hemostatic clamps). As well as a number of medical devices, without which it is impossible to establish effective treatment.
It should be noted: the effect of the medicine is most effective when administered into a vein, but injection into a muscle, especially in the cold when shock develops, does not give the desired result. Each soldier must have a dressing bag, a tourniquet and an individual first aid kit. An individual first aid kit is designed to provide assistance primarily when the enemy uses weapons of mass destruction. The so-called “anti-pain drug” promedol included in it is a narcotic substance and is often not included in the first aid kit, as the command is afraid, and quite rightly, that the personnel use it even before being wounded. But this kit is designed only for very first aid.
The main assistance to the wounded before they are taken to the hospital should be provided by sanitary instructors and paramedics. Military personnel who have received a medical education are appointed to these positions, but they can also be those who have incomplete medical education.
The state medical instructor is entitled to a “military medical bag”, which contains the contents of the same individual first aid kits, dressings and a small set of medical equipment (thermometer, garden knife, scissors, tweezers). In the military, the guys complete these bags in accordance with their experience, but this is an individual creativity, and their choice is limited - mainly what they ask for through acquaintances.
There are clearly not enough medical supplies in the troops (in the military group in Chechnya there were battalions where by May there were 6-8 bandages left for everyone). So there is nothing to help with. So our wounded lie there, sometimes waiting for several days for help.
But medicine does not stand still. Medical equipment has long been developed for doctors and paramedics of airborne troops and special forces, for rescuers. They are shown at exhibitions, and military medical authorities boast about them. Doctors and paramedics from lower-level structures are asking “give me”, looking for where to get it. But these developments do not reach the troops, and if they do, they lie in warehouses. They are afraid to hand them over.
There is a good principle in medicine: “do no harm.” It requires the physician to strictly follow one rule: treatment must be as safe as possible, and, in any case, the risk from treatment should not be higher than the risk of the disease itself. However, in our country this principle quickly turned into the rule “no matter what happens.” Once upon a time, intravenous injections were the domain of doctors; now they are administered everywhere by nurses and paramedics. But sanitary instructors and paramedics in the army are prohibited from doing them. And since it is prohibited, then neither tools nor medicines are taken into account when equipping them.
Some people stubbornly lack the courage to cancel the instructions that are preventing them from surviving today. The Main Military Medical School understands this, the troops understand this. But the middle management doesn’t want to hear anything about this: “We have instructions, we have a planned percentage of losses, everything is according to plan.”
Modern weapons are improving every year. Every year new young men find themselves in various local conflicts and the number of wounded is growing. We are losing young guys, we are losing professionals who could survive and serve.
And further. A soldier is calmer in battle if he understands that he will receive normal care if he is wounded. Those who serve know: she will be in the hospital if you get there. And if you don’t get there?.. This problem requires reworking the entire system of care for the wounded at the pre-hospital stage. It is processing, not reconstruction, from which only ruins always remain.
