On February 21, it will be 18 years since the day of the heroic battle of the scouts of the Pskov brigade of the GRU special forces near the Chechen village of Kharsenoy. In that battle with the superior forces of the enemy, 33 people died, only two managed to survive. The participants remember how the events of those days unfolded.
Further memoirs of A. Huskov:
- In the winter of 2000, General Vladimir Shamanov launched an offensive on the southern, mountainous part of the Chechen Republic. Our task was to advance along the routes of movement of the main column of motorized rifle units and provide their cover. But the advance of the infantry was difficult, the equipment got stuck in the mud and almost drowned. We moved through the mountains only on foot. On the fifth day, all the groups met and were refocused on Kharsenoy - this village is like that. The task is the same - to hold the heights to ensure the passage of motorized rifle units.
On February 1, 2000, three reconnaissance groups went forward together, since they practically had no communication anymore, the batteries in the radios went down, only one was still working. The day before, there was a radiogram that an infantry unit should arrive by noon, they would have communications and supplies. They had to replace us and continue to carry out this task themselves, and we had to leave. But by twelve o'clock they did not come, they could not climb the mountains. They moved very slowly, their equipment got stuck.
At that time, he was at a height at a distance of about eight hundred meters. There were many frostbitten and colds in my group. When the battle began, I was ordered to stay at the height and hold it. Then we walked these eight hundred meters in one and a half to two hours.
And before that, we had numerous military clashes, and we were ambushed. But they always went out. And for almost everyone to die in one battle - this has never happened before. Fatigue accumulated during eight days of these transitions, wandering around the mountains, mainly affected. And to top it off, people already relaxed when they were told that's all, come. They had already heard how the armor worked nearby, and they tuned in - in fifteen to twenty minutes they would collect their things and leave.
We have two left alive. One of them, senior sergeant Anton Filippov, was cut off by a grenade fragment, and his face was simply covered in blood. They did not even begin to kill him, they thought he was already dead. He was lying in consciousness all this time. And the second received a concussion and three bullet wounds, lost consciousness and rolled down the hill.
And here's the scary thing: children from the nearest village killed the wounded along with the militants. Adults mostly went and collected weapons and ammunition, and children from nine to fourteen years old were shot in the head if anyone moved.
Senior Sergeant Anton Filippov says:
- I have been in Chechnya since January 17, 2000. Although it was my first deployment, I had already participated in five combat missions. I served my military service in the North, in the Marines, so my combat training was more or less decent. But in that battle, practically nothing was useful.
The weather on the night of February 21 was terrible. It was snowing, everyone was frozen like puppies. And in the morning the sun came out, the sun is good in February. I remember how all the couples were pouring out. And then the sun disappeared, apparently, it went behind the mountains.
At first they hit us from two sides, and then they surrounded us completely. They hit us with flamethrowers and grenade launchers. Of course, we ourselves were largely to blame, we relaxed. But we walked through the mountains for eight days, we were tired. It was simply physically very difficult to make our way through the snow for so long, after that it was very difficult to fight normally. We slept right on the ground. We had to carry everything on ourselves, especially ammunition. Not everyone wanted to carry a sleeping bag. In our group, there were only two sleeping bags - me and one other soldier. I carried the radio, batteries for it, and also lugged a grenade launcher. There were people assigned to the group - engineers, air controllers, artillery spotters. With them was a soldier-radio operator, my commander, Samoilov (Hero of Russia Senior Lieutenant Sergei Samoilov. - Ed.) carried his grenade launcher, then he gave it to me, then we swapped, and I gave it to someone else. It was just that that radio operator was already really tired. So they helped and dragged.
My radio batteries were almost dead. I think the last one would have worked until the evening of February 21. On the morning of the twenty-first, I transmitted Samoilov's last routine report. He ordered me to inform the command that the radio's power was running low and we were turning off the station so that in an emergency we could transmit something, it would be enough for one time. But when the battle began, I was unable to transmit anything.
My station was about ten meters away from me, there were six or seven more machine guns lined up in a herringbone pattern. The commander was sitting opposite me, and Vitek (Sergeant Viktor Chernenkiy. - Ed.) was on the right. At the very beginning, the commander told him to protect me with the radio, so we were always together. When the battle began, the density of fire was very high. Approximately as if a company were to be stationed, and everyone would start shooting at the same time (a company is about a hundred people. - Ed.). Everyone was sitting in twos or threes, about twenty meters from each other. As soon as it all started, we jumped in different directions. Samoilov fell under a tree, there was only one standing there, and the hollow there was just a small one. I look at my radio and see that the bullets go right through it, pierce it. So it stayed standing as it was.
Personally, I had nothing with me except grenades, I was not supposed to have anything else. I threw them at the very beginning where they were shooting at us. But the machine gun and the radio remained. Samoilov had a Stechkin pistol and, I think, a machine gun. Our guys started shooting back with machine guns, the machine guns were firing - both one and the other. Then they told me that someone was found dead in a sleeping bag. But I didn’t see anyone sleeping, I don’t know.
One of our guys was shooting the longest with a machine gun. It just so happened that he was passing by me. The Chechens were shouting then: “Russian Vanka, surrender, Russian Vanka, surrender!” And he muttered under his breath: “I’ll give you now surrender, I’ll give you now…”. He stood up to his full height, ran out onto the road and just started firing, they killed him.
One of the commanders, either Kalinin (commander of the special forces company, Hero of Russia, Captain Alexander Kalinin. – Ed.), or Bochenkov (Hero of Russia, Captain Mikhail Bochenkov. – Ed.) shouted at me: “A rocket, a rocket!..” I remember the scream was so wild. A rocket is a signal that something is happening. But it should be red, and I only had an illumination one. I answered him: “No red!” But he did not hear what I was shouting at him, there was noise, shooting. I did not wait for an answer from him and launched the one I had. And right after that something crashed, and a piece of shrapnel wounded me in the leg. Then, of course, I did not know it was a piece of shrapnel, but later they told me. The piece of shrapnel broke the bone on my foot, and it remained in my heel. I turn around and ask Vitka (his head was at my feet, about a height away): "Alive?" He answers: "Alive, just wounded." "And me." And so we talked. Then something exploded under my nose again. I ask Vitka: "Alive?" I turn my head, and my friend is lying there, wheezing, and hasn't answered me. Apparently, he was wounded in the throat.
I was wounded for the second time. If I had lost consciousness, I would have wheezed too. Then they would have finished me off for sure. The "spirits" started collecting weapons, especially our "Stechkin" (a Stechkin pistol. - Ed.). I listened to them, some in Russian, some in broken Russian, with an accent, and some in Chechen, shouting: "Oh, I found a "Stechkin"!" They thought that I was killed, I probably looked "commercial". My face, and not only - everything was covered in blood.
At first, the "spirits" quickly grabbed the weapons and carried them away somewhere. They were gone for a short time, twenty minutes maximum. Then they came back and started finishing everyone off. Apparently, there were many like Vitek, who was lying next to me and wheezing. Many guys, apparently, showed signs of life. So they shot everyone with our "Stechkin". I heard - clap-clap-clap! But I was lucky. I was lying quietly, the Chechen came up to me, took the watch off my wrist, it was a simple watch, cheap. Then he lifted my head by the ear. Well, I thought, my ear is going to hurt, I just need to endure it. Everything hurts so much, and if you gasp, that’s it, the end. But it seems to me that he wanted to take the chain off my neck. And I always wore a cross on a thread. If there had been a chain and he had started to tear it, who knows how things would have turned out. I remembered this later in the hospital, I replayed it. I think it was God’s will, that’s why it all happened that way.
He didn't find the chain, he threw my head, and immediately the bolt on the Stechkin started to move. I thought: that's it, that's it, that's it... And then a shot rang out, a bang. I shuddered all over, I couldn't hold back. Apparently, he didn't notice that I flinched. It looks like he shot Vitka.
Samoilov was lying nearby, about five meters away. I don't know how they killed him, but the militants threw a grenade into the trench where the three of them were lying.
If I had lost consciousness at the first moment and was moaning, they would have definitely finished me off. But as it was, I looked completely lifeless. A bullet wound in the arm, the rest were shrapnel wounds - face, neck, leg. They found me maybe four hours later, still conscious. Apparently, I was in a state of shock, I passed out before the helicopter, after the fifth promidol (painkiller injection. - Ed.). First, it seems, the infantry arrived, with whom we were supposed to meet and who were delayed. I remember someone kept asking me: "Who is your radio operator, who is your radio operator?" I answered: "I am a radio operator." I told them everything concerning the algorithm for going on the air. Then they bandaged me, after that I saw nothing, only heard.
And I got to the hospital only the next day. From the twenty-first to the twenty-second of February, I had to spend the night in the mountains, the helicopter did not fly at night. The helicopters (helicopters. - Ed.) arrived only in the morning of the twenty-second. I remember that I was terribly thirsty. They gave me something to drink, I guess it was ok. I also asked: "How many are still alive, how many did they put down?" They said that two were alive. I asked for a cigarette, smoked it and ... woke up already in the helicopter. Our medic was there, he was telling me something, calming me down. Like, hold on, everything is fine, you're alive. Naturally, I asked what happened to my face. It felt like it was not there at all. And he started to calm me down - everything is fine. I asked again: "What happened to my face?" He told me - my nose and right eye are gone. Apparently, the eye was very swollen. Then I passed out again in the helicopter, what they did to me there, I don't remember. On February 23, I woke up in the ward and regained consciousness. Naturally, I couldn’t get up or move anything – I had an IV drip and was all bandaged. I started touching my face with my hand. I thought, let me see if the eye is there or not. I tore everything around the eye and was happy – I saw it! Then from Mozdok to Rostov-on-Don by plane, from Rostov to Moscow, to the hospital. Now I continue to serve in my native brigade.
We walked for several days, also carrying everything ourselves. A reconnaissance company led us part of the way. The reconnaissance stayed behind – we went on. We walked an hour and heard explosions. Later they said that our reconnaissance was covered by “grads” (I wonder who directed them?). When we reached Kharsenoy, everyone was hit – simply from the tension and fatigue, our vision doubled. Immediately, without giving us a chance to rest, they gave us the task of moving up to the heights to the specialists. Having already started to climb, we heard fighting above. The “graniks” were really firing hard there. There were two companies of us from the 752nd motorized rifle regiment. When we reached the heights, what we saw was terrifying.
The picture is as follows: a clearing, stretched down the slope, tightly surrounded by thick thorny bushes. The road went through the center of the clearing to B. Kharsenoy. The specialists settled under the trees standing closer to the center of the clearing. The guards were posted on the B. Kharsenoy side below and for some reason in an empty spot not far from the edge of the clearing. It is not clear where the specialists got the mattresses from. I do not think they walked with them. I got the impression that a place to camp was prepared for them. A square of two by two meters was dug, where they simply lay side by side. It seems they were covered there with a salvo. Two were found alive, a radio operator and someone else. A lot of canned food was scattered around the clearing, we collected it. Two were memorable - they were lying next to each other, trying to bandage each other.
We were given the task of moving down to B. Kharsenoy. We moved out – we were met with heavy fire. We retreated to a clearing. They called it – DEAD CLEARING. It was already getting dark – we were given the task of moving towards the third group of specialists – the one that survived, because it was on the side. The company refused to move out at night. The command post reported that after completing the task, the company would be taken to Mozdok for a tribunal. In short, we were also told that this area would be covered by artillery and flyers at 6 am. Like: if you want – stay. In the morning, they gathered all the 200s and dragged them from the clearing into the forest so that they wouldn’t be torn apart. That area was indeed covered – we managed to retreat. Then things got more fun: the head spotted two spirits ahead of us, moving in the same direction. Then they lit up in front of the 3rd group of specialists and went off to the side.
The special forces did not respond to the radio, nor to the flare gun signals. We went forward to them. Well, the special forces, of course, thought it was their turn. In short, a fight broke out. Their sniper moved forward and met us. He shot one in the forehead, and the second in the neck. Our third blew himself up on a tripwire (wounds in the stomach). Their position was also great: a slope on three sides, and a high cliff in the rear. They managed to dig in normally. Having surrounded them, we cut off the sniper. This sniper realized that we were our own - he was close to us and could not change position, he got into a bag. He started shouting that there were our own here. The shooting died down. Then, a little while later, he led us through the mined areas to our own. I will say honestly - they were very lucky, and so were we. One of them was wounded right through in the leg (in the flesh). In short, that is how that episode with the special forces ended.
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