«Why are you constantly yelling today?» muttered the grey-haired general and rubbed his sweaty neck. «Whats up with you, Sergeyev?»
«Leaflets are ready. We printed them especially for the defense of Deir-ez-Zor. The whole lot is done. Weve packed them. So they are ready for shipment.»
«Leaflets for Deir-ez-Zor?» he said slowly, squinting oddly, but thoughtfully at his subordinate. The General knew this experienced officer and had been acquainted with his personal record before the arrival of the special propaganda group. Lieutenant colonel Sergeyev graduated from the Military Institute of Foreign Languages, learned from Commanders former comrades who, along with him, took part in the second Egyptian campaign as military experts and later worked in Lebanon and Yemen. The main Intelligence Directorate used him in some operations in the Middle East and two months ago the General Staff had an idea to use psychological influence on the enemy. They started looking for the «survivors» of specialists. Staffing positions existed, but, alas, there were no skillful professionals capable to deploy mobile teams in the regular units. The only thing they managed to do was organize working groups and assign them a commander from the former professionals, who at least had an idea of what they all would have to do. That man was forty-year-old Sergeyev. His team dropped the first lots of leaflets from helicopters successfully without being shot down. However, no one terrorist was going to surrender and even retreat. Therefore, military commanders hoped that he would come up with something new to affect the fighters.
And then, looking at the strong, tanned lieutenant-colonel, the Commander suddenly realized, whod be sent to Deir-ez-Zor.
«Listen!» he said peremptorily and Major-General Zakharov, who was sitting before, had to stand up, acknowledging the change of mood. «You take your printing group and get them ready to fly. Let them pick up all leaflets. Then youll go with Zaharovs technicians to the Syrians. Check two MI-8. If our guys give the-go-ahead, youll take off at night. The whole group. Youll be accompanying the journalists to Deir-ez-Zor and back. Keep an eye on them in the city! Keep up with them, dont let them walk alone! Youll work out the route on your own. It should be familiar to you. You did it, didnt you?»
«Uh Thats right» frowned lieutenant-colonel Sergeyev out of habit. He had a lot of questions but decided to think further and ask them later.
«Thats great! When approaching youll drop leaflets,» grinned the Commander. «Alright, dismissed, go and gather your guys! Youll get all instructions from Zakharov later and tell Basil out there to call the journalists,» he said at the end, when Sergeyev already opened the door. The adjutant heard his name and the last words and hastened to execute the order without entering the Commanders study.
A hush fell over the room, and then two generals started discussing details of the operation. They knew nobody was perfect and tried their best to provide for everything just to be on the safe side.
Chapter 3
«Pack all the leaflets into bags and load on pallets!» ordered lieutenant-colonel Sergeyev.
«There are no pallets, Ivanych they havent returned since the last time» a strong figure of captain Nechyporenko came out of the shadows. He commanded a battalion «on the mainland», as they are now called Russia, and served in many military regions, but believed the most difficult period were his three years, spent in a unit under Bodaibo, where food and post were dropped from helicopters to prevent desperate soldiers from jumping on board. «Dont be so harsh! Whats happened?»
«We should get them all packed and prepared by the evening.»
«Dont worry, take it easy! Were done packing. You see, were lying around, doing nothing, enjoying life,» Nechyporenko was smiling as usual.
«I see. Now Im going to check two MI-8. If theyre okay, well go onboard and fly to drop the leaflets,» said Sergeyev discontentedly, wiping the sweat from his brow. «And then gotta spend a week in Deir-ez-Zor. Well be accompanying the journalists.»
«You mean «TV-jokers», right?» the captain grinned derisively because he did not like to call them «reporters». He thought they were gawking instead of reporting. «Well, lets give them a lift. Thats great! Why not? Are we flying together?«he asked, still smiling.
«No, we arent. The whole group is. All seven people are.»
«Oh, thats it!» Nechyporenko took his cap off and scratched his head. Yes Somethings wrong here. Why do they need all our guys? One camera to each soldier?
«Sort of,» the lieutenant-colonels reply was terse and a strange expression didnt leave his face, as if hes sunk his teeth into a piece of lemon. When he left the base along with General Zakharovs several technicians, the captain realized that his commander was tormented by doubt. Usually Sergeyev was in a good mood and loved joking but today he was clearly not up to the jokes. They got acquainted four months ago, and the captain had not previously seen his new commander so worried. He was tense as a string but soon Nechyporenko forgot about this impression, distracted by the loading. He had to inform his subordinates about the news and tell them to carry forty bags to the gate. Also they were supposed to get their hand weapon. It might be useful under such circumstances.
Then, five journalists, happy and cheerful, were sitting in the Commanders office and really did not understand why their flight of just a short 500 kilometers and primarily over desert, made the military men worried.
«It doesnt look like theyre fighting here at all,» said the head of the group, Yuriy Tegov, somehow trying to smooth over the awkward pause.»
«Have you been to the coast?» asked the Colonel-General in the same tone, having raised his head from the papers with pencil inscriptions spread on his desk. Even at a distance of two meters, it was not possible to discern what was written on them.
«Yeah, cool! Like in Turkey. Very few people, some swimming. We also went swimming.»
«And the city has a lot of things too food, fruit, shops are open,» added his friend pointing to his bag with bananas sticking out. «I havent seen or tasted such sweet grape! Ever! My fingers stick together! Nothing but sugar!
«Fructose,» corrected the grey-haired General. «But it doesnt matter. Upon arrival to the city you will obey lieutenant-colonel Sergeyev. He will come back in the evening to meet you. Departure is late in the evening, after five or six p.m. Enough time to do your packing?»
«Plenty. Why is it so urgent, though? Cant we fly in daytime? We could record the entire territory from the air. It might be exclusive footage,» wondered journalist Tegov. «Cant we do without helicopters?» he asked hopefully but saw both generals faces darkening.
«No, you cant,» came the short answer. «Its not a beach in Latakia. Thats all! Get ready!»
«Yes, comrade Colonel-General!» joked the journalist, saluting him.
«You mustnt salute without a service cap on,» noted Zakharov with displeasure.
«Its out of habit. In Donbass I always wore a helmet, even slept with it on,» added Tegov with a cheerful twinkle in his eyes. «And here is just like paradise.»
«Okay, okay, go. Be careful out there let nothing happen,» said the frowning head of the group. «And listen to Sergeyev! Thats an order!»