Valery Radchikov was buried in silence
There was nothing to say except prayer
On Saturday, the funeral of the President of the Russian Public Fund for Disabled Military Persons (ROFIVS) Valery Radchikov, who was accused of organizing an explosion at the Kotlyakovskoye cemetery, was held in Moscow. The man, whose name had not left the pages of newspapers for several years, was seen off on his last journey in a surprisingly casual and modest manner.
By noon, about forty people had gathered near the morgue of the Burdenko Military Hospital. There were no politicians who were once proud of their friendship with the legless colonel (he was even called a modern Maresyev), no businessmen who entered into multimillion-dollar contracts with Radchikov, no disabled “Afghans” whom he wanted to benefit.
Lawyer Pavel Yushin, who won the case in court accusing the colonel of organizing an explosion at the Kotlyakovskoye cemetery, which in 1996 claimed the lives of 14 “Afghans” and members of their families, also did not come to say goodbye to Valery Radchikov. Even the ubiquitous journalists for some reason unanimously ignored the funeral ceremony. Only his few relatives and employees of the ROFIVS, which Radchikov had recently led, came to bury the colonel who died in a car accident.
There were no speeches either. After the relatives said goodbye to the deceased, the coffin, a pillow with three orders and eight wreaths were loaded onto a bus and taken to the Troekurovskoye cemetery. A Kommersant correspondent went there with soldiers from the commandant’s regiment, who were invited to participate in the ceremony. As soon as the bus started moving, the entire platoon, except for the young lieutenant and sergeant, fell asleep together. In the dream, soldiers dropped machine guns loaded with blank cartridges. The sergeant shouted at his subordinates without malice. “It’s not our job to bury. There’s an honor guard company for that,” he explained. “My soldiers were on guard all day yesterday. Many are going into the night today, but for the sake of three shots they’ll have to lose a whole day.”
At the cemetery, the problem arose again about who to talk to. The soldiers of the commandant's company had already fired, the brass band played, the gravediggers impatiently shifted from foot to foot, and those gathered remained stubbornly silent. Finally, Father Cyprian-Peresvet, a priest who went through the Afghan and Chechen wars, could not stand it: “Brothers! People! Say something! After all, it is customary to first say goodbye to the deceased in a secular way, and then I will sing his funeral.”
A man approached the coffin. Without introducing himself, he said something about the “trampled movement of the Afghans,” but his words were drowned out by a freight train (there is a railroad next to the cemetery).
When Father Cyprian-Peresvet performed the funeral service for the deceased, many did not take off their hats - not because they did not know Orthodox customs, it was just very cold. And the priest ended with a worldly word: “The time will come - the troops will be named after him! There is one judge. And he will punish those who persecuted Valera. And maybe we on earth will have time to do this.”
SERGEY Ъ-DYUPIN

Newspaper "Kommersant" No. 19/P dated 02/05/2001, page 2

Authors:

Sergey Dupin

Themes:

Explosion at Kotlyakovskoye Cemetery