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"That's good - a little girl shouldn't have scars, especially on her chest. . The commander's long, sensitive fingers, which he held on the forward stock of his automatic rifle as if it were the neck of a guitar, left no doubt about the source of his personal callsign, which had long since become his second name. A Ural truck and the escorts' BTR were waiting for them on the road,

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across from the site of the incident. . . " . " But meeting Chopin's cold, restrained stare, he quickly pretended to be preoccupied and headed for the exit. ' And imagine, her husband served right here in this hospital," the outgoing informant explained, adding with gusto "the j-jerk!" . x x x .

It took the men about ten minutes to reach the old woman and the girl. Chopin clutched her to his breast and stroked her hair, saying, "I'm sorry, but I didn't know. .

At a distance of about a hundred meters from the wounded, some of the troops dispersed to either side. "Fuck the old hag! But it looks like the youngster has had it. He spoke briefly

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with those in charge of the work details, then got onto the running board of the

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Ural and glanced around.

. . .

" . As if to answer him, mortars began to thump somewhere beyond Grozniy's air-port, filling the air with their deadly rustle and nauseating, heart-rending wail. 6 Ural-4320 - a five-ton truck widely used by Russian military and paramilitary forces . Sanya lugged the old woman.

The old woman, dressed in typically dark village clothing, pushed a wheelbarrow filled with rubble.

. And you're a real human being. It doesn't really matter while she is small, but she could develop complexes when she grows up," said Chopin, nodding his head knowingly.

Something for temporary gratification. The old woman, dressed in typically dark village clothing, pushed a wheelbarrow filled with rubble. Meanwhile,

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the talkative trooper pulled out an imposing knife, removed some turf with precise, circular cuts, and carefully

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laid it to the side.

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The old woman, dressed in typically dark village clothing, pushed a wheelbarrow filled with rubble. Take care of yourself. Something for temporary gratification.

"Screw you!" grumbled the old woman. "Don't be a fool! When was the last time that you looked at yourself in the mirror? Someday you'll meet someone - maybe even more than one "someone" - who will just kiss your feet! And if he's a real man, not some shit like your ex, he'll adore your scars. As if to answer him, mortars began to thump somewhere beyond Grozniy's air-port, filling the air

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with their deadly rustle and nauseating, heart-rending wail. No, wait, she moved her hand! See how Daddy-Well-Done is rushing - she must still be alive!" . Chopin suddenly grew angry. . . No, wait, she moved her hand! See how Daddy-Well-Done is rushing - she must still be alive!" . The five year-old girl, who stood scarcely taller than the wheelbarrow itself, skipped merrily alongside.

8 OMON - elite special purpose forces within the Russian police . " . "You look lovely. Dropping to one knee behind various forms of cover and shouldering their automatic weapons, they kept a tense lookout over the nearby "green area" and covered the two men who went further. "You look lovely.

Chopin rubbed his temples with his hands and stood there briefly. Suddenly the nurse tensed up and turned her face away, straining to hide her tears. The latter started off almost on hands and knees, intently peering into the grass and probing suspicious sectors with rods. They hauled her off in broad daylight, raped and shot her! But the entire street teamed up to save the girl and the old woman, hiding them. "Ask them where the little girl's parents are. "In January,

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she herself was wounded while pulling troops out from under a mortar barrage.

"That's good - a little girl shouldn't have scars,

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especially on her chest.

But they poured forth regardless, and she abruptly rose and ran back inside. One of the men made his way silently, while the other, without dropping his guard for so much as a second, muttered to himself: . "You take care of yourself too, my friend. The obstacle consisted of lengths of telephone cable and sections

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of critically scarce barbed wire, and it bore fresh warning

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signs in Russian and Chechen that fluttered in the wind. 2 Nickname for Alexander . . 2 Nickname for Alexander . "We need to get to the hospital, and fast! The little girl's trachea has been nicked. Chopin rubbed his temples with his hands and stood there briefly. Around two hundred meters from the commandant's office an old woman and

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a

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small girl walked through a wasteland scarred with ditches and littered with smashed bricks.

. Dudayev's security forces killed her mother too.

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.

. "Oh, damn, was that ever a direct hit!" he drawled out with a mixture of reproach and sympathy. x x x . Take care of yourself. Suddenly the nurse tensed up and turned her face away, straining to hide her tears. The driver, who had been squatting by one of the wheels, darted headlong into the cab of the idling Ural while two OMON troopers, having thrown open the vehicle's rear gate earlier, jumped aboard and prepared to receive the old woman. 9 Dzhokhar Dudayev, the leader of the Chechen separatists until his death in 1996 . Upon returning to the commandant's office, Chopin ordered his driver to take him to the limits of the surrounding guard posts. It's not too serious, but there may be pulmonary bleeding," Aibolit told the commander, as he finished bandaging the girl.

. . Dropping to one knee behind various forms of cover and shouldering their automatic weapons, they kept a tense lookout over the nearby "green area" and covered the two men who went further. And that their commander's lips were trembling

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- a commander who had clearly "been around" and routinely looked so bold and energetic.

. . The obstacle consisted of lengths of telephone cable and sections of critically scarce barbed wire, and it bore fresh warning signs in Russian and Chechen that fluttered in the wind.

Vovka dashed through the corridor hastily cut across the minefield, zigzagging gracefully between the marker flags like a downhill skier. The weak-sighted old woman bent over sideways, trying to make out what her granddaughter had seen, and at just that moment heard someone shouting from the guard posts outside the commandant's office, nearly unseen behind mounds of trash.

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. "At this range it should have cut them to pieces!" . . . A Ural truck and the escorts'

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BTR were waiting for them on the road, across from the site of the incident. He had taken off his "sphere," which was black with sweat inside, and placed his automatic weapon on his knees. "Don't know, Vovka. A strange dark object bounced up from the grass, struck the side of the wheelbarrow, careened away, and exploded in a cloud

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of black, fiery smoke.

". They hauled her off in broad daylight, raped and shot her! But the entire street teamed up to save the girl and the old woman, hiding them. " But meeting Chopin's cold, restrained stare, he quickly pretended to be preoccupied and headed for the exit. . "You take care of yourself too, my friend.

. . "What do you want me to do - cart this stuff back home? Right, and now. Just rush her to the doctor, he'll sort things out!" . . . "Do you really think I still look alright?" . OMON troops, together with Chechen women who had run out from the house next-door, bandaged her.

Just mark them with flags so we don't trip them on the way out.

. "The mine may have stuck rather than bouncing

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up the way it should . It took the men about ten minutes to reach the old woman and the girl. Have you come for something?" She made an attempt to smile and wiped away what remained of her tears with the palm of her hand. In his long years as a physician, Doc had seen a great deal of blood - particularly in the last few months. . Vovka dashed through the corridor hastily cut across the minefield, zigzagging gracefully between the marker flags like a downhill skier.

" .

"Apparently no surprises this time. Suddenly the nurse tensed up and turned her face away, straining to hide her tears. "The women say her father was killed while fighting in the anti-Dudayev opposition. "She only has her grandmother," replied a hefty OMON trooper of around forty with the classic look of a company first sergeant. . . "Hang on, Little One, hang on! Don't be afraid! I'm your uncle - and a good one! In just a minute our Doctor Aibolit will check you over and give you some candy.

" With that, she firmly shoved her barrow forward and tilted it on its side to quickly dump the load. . . Men from the commandant's office ran over via a circuitous route, skirting the minefield. He hoisted her onto his back, carefully watching beneath his feet and silently listening to her wail as he went. But after an instant of hesitation, Chopin issued a staccato order: .

Squatting in a group by the BTR, his troops talked in hushed voices and passed around the last cigarette from a pack that they had

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crumpled and thrown away. Gather them together and give them love. . " . .

The weak-sighted old woman bent over sideways, trying to make out what her granddaughter had seen, and at just that moment heard someone shouting from the guard posts outside the commandant's office, nearly unseen behind mounds of trash. . . 9 Dzhokhar Dudayev, the leader of the Chechen separatists until his death in 1996 . "Hang on, Little One, hang on! Don't be afraid! I'm your uncle - and a good one! In just a minute our Doctor Aibolit will check you over and give you some candy. 9 Dzhokhar Dudayev, the leader of the Chechen separatists until his death in 1996 . "Hang on, Little One, hang on! Don't be afraid! I'm your uncle - and a good one! In just a minute our Doctor Aibolit will check you over and give you some candy. . A Ural

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truck and

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the escorts' BTR were waiting for them on the road, across from the site of the incident.

It doesn't really matter while she is small, but she could develop complexes when she grows up," said Chopin, nodding his head knowingly. The latter started off almost on hands and knees, intently peering into the grass and probing suspicious sectors with rods. Dudayev's security forces killed her mother too. . . "Fuck the old hag! But it looks like the youngster has had it. Just mark them with flags so we don't trip them on the way out.

It doesn't really matter while she is small, but she could develop complexes when she grows up," said Chopin, nodding his head knowingly.

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"Shit, those combat engineers are walking one very fine line! After all, who hasn't planted mines out there - the Chechens, our guys - yet there are no sketches or maps! The Devil himself couldn't figure things out!" . . "Don't

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mess with the rest

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of them, there's no time to screw around. One of them quickly administered promedol to the old woman and applied tourniquets to her shins.
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