(An excerpt from the novel "Photo for memory," whose hero on two continents alone investigates the death of his family in Boeing over the Donbass. The novel, based on real events, is published in May in Kiev and in August in Moscow.

In the following passage, an American special forces soldier of Ukrainian origin, Andrew Michal, rescuing Ukrainian general Dronov from a downed helicopter finds two Donetsk criminals in a barn near a village in the Donbass, which are hiding there after the Russian armored convoy, in which they moved through their own bandit cases , Fell under a massive artillery bombardment).

"Neither ... I'm a business trip myself," breathed Petya when the shelling stopped.. - I, b-d, did not subscribe to this. Let the Scribe himself fight here.

During the shelling, the friends sat leaning against a brick wall, on a straw mixed with manure, covering their ears with their hands. The earth was jumping, the walls were shaking, the ceiling of the slate was showered in places. Cows, without ceasing, munching in chorus, singing along with fire and shaking their heads in time.

- Yes, - Pasha knocked himself on the ears. The shelling was over, but the cows continued to roar, and it seemed to him that this sound was coming from somewhere right from inside his head. - Petya, it is necessary somehow, b-d, to get out of here. We are not going to get to Donetsk, either alive or dead,.

- What, fuck, Donetsk? "Replied Petya." I've seen this Kursk bend in the n-th time! ".

- Hey, guys, I need a hand, - in the rays penetrating through the fallen door of the light stood, swaying and pointing at them a machine, a tall figure with broad shoulders. - Get the fuck up and help me.

The bandits did not understand what the unknown man was saying, but somehow they realized at once that they had abandoned their automatic rifles on the way. And both together realized that to poke into the pockets of the trunks in front of this Terminator will definitely "not in the subject".

While they were going up, Andriy swayed. The earth swam under his feet. He had to lean on the doorway to avoid falling. He was sure that before him the Russians and use their broken Ukrainian was senseless, especially when the mind almost escaped him.

"Hurry up, motherfuckers," he said.. - Hurry up for fuck's sake!.

"He speaks English," whispered Petya, getting up and shaking his head..

- How do you know? - Pasha was surprised, also getting up and shaking himself off.

Andrii did not hear what they were saying. From his ears he had blood.

"An American," Petya answered in a whisper.. - Fuck, b-d, fact one.

The American looked out onto the road, saw that there was no sign of life in the place where the column was being shot, and, with a machine gun from side to side, showed the bandits to the exit.

"P ... ts," Petya whispered.. - Pashka, they are leading to the shooting..

They slowly, holding hands, came out of the barn. Andrew pushed them with the trunk of the gun in the back.

"If he's an American, then it turns out that they've ransacked the column!" Pashu inspected. - And we with you Ukrainians. They are for us! He thinks we are Russian. D!.

- We are Ukrainians! - said loudly Petya. Raising his hands up, he slowly turned around, realized that the American did not hear, and that there were forces shouting like a football fan at the match, waving his arms with spread fingers and shaking the body from side to side, as if about to run a wave through the stadium. - Uk-ra-and-on! Ukraine! We are Ukrainians!.

Andrew did not hear them and tried in vain to determine on the lips that these captured soldiers shouted to him. The only thing he needed from them now was to help drag the general to the cowshed and hide him there. Then he could either shoot them or force them to carry the wounded, but where? They flew here for ten minutes. It's over a hundred kilometers. The general will not live. And he, too. Need transport. The radio remained in the helicopter. It is necessary to check the phone, but for now the most important thing is to drag Dronov to a safe place.

- Shche did not die of Ukraine, but the will, - using puzzling American, Pasha began to sing, putting his hand to his heart, at first uncertainly, and then louder and louder: "Let us, brother, Ukrainians, share a share ..." Began to repeat the first two lines, only louder. Petya tried to sing to his friend, but he did not know the words at all and just mumbled something, for convincing nodding his head.

The American could not understand what was happening. Captured Russians for some strange reason started singing.

- This is fucking crazy! He shouted, spitting blood out of his mouth. - Shut the fuck up!.

At that moment, Andrew realized that the rumor had returned to him, because suddenly he heard a weak voice coming from the curb due to the Russians' backs.

- Andrey, Andrey! - the general tried to shout in a hoarse whisper. - They are Ukranians! Ukrainians!.

Dronov understood at first sight that they were not Russian or even separatists.

- Ukrainians? Said the amazed Andrew. - Fucking Ukranians, are you?.

- Yes, yes! - Smiled Petya in the mouth.

He put his hand into his breast pocket to get his passport, and realized that you need to touch one of the two - Russian or Ukrainian. But how?.

Petya closed his eyes. I tried to remember some words of grandmother's prayer, but I could not - and took out a blue Ukrainian passport from my pocket. Exhaled with relief and extended it to Andrew. He opened his passport.

Polistal and, turning to Dronov, showed the document. The general nodded, and the American threw the passport back to Petya. Then he showed the automatic on the general on a stretcher and, concentrating, pronounced in Ukrainian with a strong accent:.

- Do not yogo a bood.

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