Text taken from the Telegram accouint of iamsniper
[ColonelCassad] Excerpts from the book "Aida" (commander of the Special Forces "Akhmat") - "The Cursed Forest".
One of the reconnaissance snipers from the battalion next to us opened his account.
It was his first shot, first kill and first body inspection.
By the way, for the next two days he withdrew into himself, practically did not eat and did not leave the room.
- Can you talk to him? - his commander asked me.
- No problem, - I answered.
I went up the stairs and knocked on the door. Silence.
After knocking a few more times, I opened it.
A young sniper, naked to the waist, was picking at his hand with a knife. There were already several dozen wounds.
He was taking out something that only he could see.
Confused, similar images that I had seen many years ago surfaced in my eyes.
The sniper, who had retired, realizing the burden of his responsibility, rubbed his hands to the flesh with pumice.
I closed the door and silently walked back.
Having met his commander in the common room, I said:
- I'm afraid that talking won't help him anymore... call the medics and take him to the evacuation.
Almost all the fighters ran up the stairs.
* * *
- Did you choose the call sign yourself? - Akim asked.
- No, I inherited it.
- What was it before?
- Sinner.
- Did the mentor pass it on?
- Yes. Before him, there was Hades.
- Are you going to pass it on to someone else too?
I thought for a moment:
- No. I think I'll be the last Hades.
- What's wrong?
- The call sign is cursed, I think. Everyone ended up the same way, plus or minus. I don't want to pass on a curse.
* * *
I woke up from a nightmare that had been haunting me for the past few days. The gray swamp of the cursed forest called me through my dreams.
Peering into the muddy waters of the swamp in my sleep, I clearly saw hundreds of eyes looking at me from there.
How many souls this swamp has taken since WWII, I don't know, but the place really was nasty.
I went down to the first floor of our farm to make some tea. The clock showed 4 am.
Half an hour later, alarm clocks started ringing en masse, and the soldiers started getting up for a combat mission.
- You're early. Didn't go to bed? - asked Kostyl.
- A difficult question, - I muttered under my breath.
- Are you with us? To the BZ?
- Yes, why not. Where are you going?
- To the swamp.
I felt the unpleasant aftertaste of sleep.
* * *
We passed the hotel, in the direction of the "horseshoe", to make our way through the minefields, to set up an observation post. The bank on the other side of the horseshoe was packed with the enemy.
Having removed a couple of inept infantry tripwires, which were already asking for a bullet, because of their idiotic habit of wrapping tripwires around themselves in circles and resting, we moved on.
The enemy also entered the horseshoe and it was necessary to move vigilantly so as not to fall into an ambush.
We had several combat encounters on the horseshoe.
As well as getting into enemy secrets.
It was also dangerous to get into the swamp. The armor will pull you to the bottom and you won’t be able to get out.
Seeing fresh tracks on our territory, we carefully followed them.
Two people. The tracks split. In one area there were fragments of an exploded tripwire. Apparently, the enemy was blown up and wounded.
Carefully following the route, we reached the swamp.
From under the water, a dead soldier of the Ukrainian Armed Forces looked at me with open eyes and an open mouth. Swollen, wounded in the leg, he fell into the swamp and drowned.
For a few seconds, I carefully looked at these eyes under the water and was silent.
- What is it? - the soldier distracted me.
- Well, just like that... I’m starting to believe in prophetic dreams. We get him. Four are looking for the second one.
- Why get him? - my scout was perplexed.
- Let’s check the pockets. Let's take the documents, the mobile phone, if you have one. And those eyes underwater irritate me.
- What?
- They call me. In my sleep.
* * *
Dreams have always been an unpleasant part of me. That's why I was grateful for my insomnia.
On those few days when I got enough sleep, dreams fell on me like an avalanche.
Sometimes, the dreams were so beautiful that I regretted waking up.
More often, I would like my day to be a dream that I forgot about.
Sometimes, through dreams, I communicated with those who should not be around.
On the eve of my next duel, I fell asleep.
I dreamed of a park, which I had definitely visited at some point in my past life on the other side of the war. I don't remember where it is. I don't even remember the circumstances under which I was there.
It was raining lightly, it was deserted. Dreams are generally deserted. Most often.
I sat down under a tree, clearly aware that I had fallen asleep.
- What are you worried about? - a familiar voice rang out.
- You shouldn't be here, old man. - I answered Hades without turning around.
- Why?
- I know I fell asleep. And I know that when I wake up, I'll be disappointed. Don't start.
- Aren't you happy to see me? - He sat down next to me.
- Not on the eve of a hard day.
- Worried that you'll lose?
- You lost. Right in front of me.
He laughed:
- And you won. After me. You still have a long way to go. A hard one. Don't worry. You're destined to go through it.
I opened my eyes from the alarm clock.
Remembering that a duel awaited me on some God-knows-how-many terms, with any outcome, I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
Smiling wryly at the words of my mentor, I stood up.
"This is the way, old man." - a thought that became the final thread with my dream.