About war and peace When you come from the front, you are certainly welcome - if not all, then at least some. But there are those who immediately recall the famous "post-mortem syndrome" - the same, do you remember, Arkadi Babchenko wrote about him in detail? Do you remember, he told how he came "from there", in peacetime almost killed a normal bully? Just because in the war there is a habit of killing. And, of course, there will necessarily be those - smart, well-read and cautious, who will look at you and think: "How easy will it be for you to kill someone for a careless word or act?". Well, you used to get used to it a bit - and shoot, do not you?.

And you do not know how to explain to them that you come from there as utterly childishly defenseless as you were, perhaps, at the age of five, and only - without the slightest defensive reaction, even without the simplest skill of cunning - you come with a soul , Torn to shreds, and at the same time extremely naked, open wide, like a window in a thunderstorm. Because you are used to being - strong, steadfast, not breakable until the very end, resourceful, calculating, beyond the years smart, merciless to someone else's meanness - only with them, with enemies, with invaders. And here - their own.

Do you remember how you wondered there yourself - where did that come from? What a ruthless monster you seemed to yourself sometimes, when, with the agility of a predator, unerringly found the slightest gap in the opponent, groped for every miss of it, and used it sometimes to genius precisely. And he shot without a doubt, shot, devouring his whole soul for every shot to stop the evil that was moving in your land and turning it into hell. And he reminded himself a sharpened mechanism, a machine, not a man - a strategist, a tactician and a warrior in one person. You knew how to do it, right? And why can not you here? You can not, because here are those for whom you shed blood and sweat, for the sake of whom you crippled the body and soul every day, cold in the cold trench, starved, burrowed into the frozen ground under bombardment of the "GRAD", thought, lived, inspired, not Stayed. You defended them, they are the source of your inspiration, meaning and purpose, symbol and reward. You wanted to have a peaceful sky above them. It's your own, yours! What else does a word need to be understood? And here it is revealed to you that they will not understand. They will quickly feel your unusual, uncharacteristic naivety to their world and begin to use it - each in the measure of his meanness. And your soul is adored, tattered, but so stupid, soldierly open, again, as for the first time in your life, recognizes the whole cynicism of someone else's calculation, the whole coldness of someone else's indifference, all the meanness of someone else's hypocrisy. And you will not be able to accept for a long time that the person you believed in could use you cynically and at the same time lie in your eyes. You do not understand why your front-line feats for anybody mean nothing, and why they do not understand that they are alive in something and thanks to you?.

Maybe someone will ask you about your participation, is not it hard for you at night from nightmares and memories of battles. You do not know how to explain to them that, no matter how terrible the front dreams are, and torn pieces of meat with a charred border, and the stench and heat from the blackened walls, it's much harder for you from their satiated and rotten world, from the spruce words, From memorized formalities, from important and well-groomed people who are loudly lying under the flags. You're sure they're lying - because it's impossible to tell the truth so loud, so pathetic, and even under the flag. And you realize that you begin to hate this flag, for which you once threw yourself into battle - because he is now theirs, and not yours. Because they finally took it to themselves and embezzled in their own, so alien to you world.

You are belatedly aware that your gruff simplicity will look like ignorance and stupidity here.. They do not know, of course, how once you absolutely accurately calculated where to expect the next sortie of the enemy, and knew about their plans a month before they began to be carried out. Do you remember that even there the generals did not want to listen to you when you tried to convince them - it is not a general thing to listen to soldiers. But there you began to respect at least after you realized that you were right.

Here you just better not talk about it. They will not forgive you that you - a beggar, a native and armless - were somewhat smarter than them. They will suspiciously glance at you: "Did you know in advance, and not in collusion with the enemies?", Because they will never want to, do not allow themselves to believe that such things could be calculated by an uneducated villager who was drafted into the army right after school.

A couple of times you want to shout them in the face: "I've risked my life for you, freaks!". But you do not shout, you will not demean yourself to show them accounts, you will not give them such pleasure. You will tell them something else - rude, vulgar and pungent, intends tasteless, so that none of them see your torn to tatters heart. And most importantly - you can not hit them back. You can not, because they are not your enemies. Your enemies stayed there, behind the line - armed invaders, designated directly and clearly. And these people, even if they are scum, are still not enemies. Civil. Unarmed. You know that a child soldier will not offend, right? You are above this. You already decided that your war is over! You can not, you do not want to give them change, you just do not believe them. You suddenly realize that in this full and hypocritical world you can not trust anyone. And only by the wall of total disbelief can you protect the sparked soul from new attacks.

And then you'll understand that it's better to leave. Turn around, leave and never return, explaining nothing to anyone.. It's like an adult grown up in you for years not left at the front, but here, in a civilian, you really turn into a child-an offended teenager who runs away from home in a secret hope that he will be weeping after his escape.

Will not. There they knew how to cry, remember? Do you remember when you pulled your best friend Serega from the ruins of the airport with his arm torn apart by the elbow and his torn abdomen, and he was dying in your arms? You sobbed then, like a little boy, was thrilled, you were all covered with his blood. This at first you were scared to die, and then - no longer. Then you knew that at least you would be weeping about you, like you are about Seryozhka. And here - no one is going to cry. Come on, they will not even notice if you do not become.

So do not wait for anything, just leave. If weak - in drinking, if stronger - at least aside. Moving from town to village is not an option? Live on your free farm far away from people, inhale the healing aroma of the surrounding forest and yourself do not admit that you miss the drug that destroys the drug. And, again waking up from a nightmare, you again will tear yourself to the front line and regret that you have not died in battle ... And maybe you will be lucky, and everything will be different? You will be met by a loving wife, you will be awarded a medal, children will rush to your neck, strangers will approach you in the streets and thank for the peaceful sky over their head?

And you, let not immediately, but forget the nightmare of battles and losses and again begin to feel the sounds, colors, colors? Let it be! Let with each of those who today returns from war, the second, instead of the first probability will come true.

People, take care of your soldiers! They sometimes are very painful ... The editors of the site are not responsible for the content of blogs. The editorial opinion may differ from the author's.

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