Translated material
Farewell "Slavutich"
The last Ukrainian ship in the Sevastopol Bay was stormed “Gray, Gray! Sit in the cabin and do not stick out! And open the doors, these scumbags will still be knocked out,” a man shouted into a telephone with a short haircut and in a tracksuit. “And tell the old one so that it doesn’t protrude!”
“And I am a rat, today I ran from the ship,” said another, smaller, but very strong, but very strong. He was clearly very drunk and was very worried, watching how the tugboat was approaching the Ukrainian military ship, on the stern of which several dozen tall guys were clearly visible. It was half the sixth in the evening of Saturday March 22.
In the morning, at 11 hours, having received information that there would be a storm “Slavutich”, but not knowing when exactly, I found a very convenient Piglet on the hill between the fences of military units, from where the ship was visible in the palm of my hand. To get to the place of Slavutich’s mooring, it was necessary to use the ferry crossing. The boat was called "Jupiter". A man with a barce and a bull neck, sitting behind me, busily agreed on the phone to send a “group of guys to support the Ministry of Internal Affairs” to Simferopol. Someone called him back. I shuddered - instead of a musical rington, an explosion, an automatic line, and then a scream - “Lie down face down, I will shoot to defeat!” The man picked up the phone: “Hello, Kat!”.
The national flag of Ukraine fluttered on the nose of Slavutich, blocked by two Russian ships. Several people were visible on the deck, it was clear that someone with things leaves “Slavutich”, without uniform, in civilian clothes and with more than once visible plastic bags in their hands. (For some reason, such black bags with the inscription BMW are especially common here). A couple - a man and a woman of about fifty, approached the hillock where I prepared to wait for the assault. They began to look at the "Slavutich". "Do you have someone there?" I asked. “Friends,” the man in camouflage pants answered evasively. “They betrayed the guys,” he said sadly. “Neither order nor instructions. Only by the court in Ukraine they threaten.” The man stepped aside, trying to check whether it was possible to somehow get to the ship. This attracted the attention of the guard of Russian sailors, they made it clear that they would not be allowed. "Are you probably a journalist?" The woman asked me carefully. I answered in the affirmative and immediately asked for permission to turn on the recorder. The refusal did not surprise me, but we talked. “This euphoria is already passing,” she said. “People begin to understand that they will not be able to meet with relatives, that there may be a war. I am not against Russia. But you can’t, you know, it was impossible to take and cut off like that! Back in February, no one thought that Crimea would be part of Russia. But what began before the referendum! It is amazing how quickly the people were changing consciousness.”
About four hours later, when I again went to a memorable hillock, it was already impossible to climb it. A patrol (two stood with machine guns at the ready, one flirted with a girl in a short skirt) stopped me. "And what, you can't see?" I asked. "We ourselves do not look!" -one of the sailors answered in such a tone, as if his “Friends-Patsa” were taken around the corner to “mark” a strongly exalted comrade. But I do not want to watch a few people beat alone. Fascinated ...
“Let's go to the pier,” a man waved to me, also trying to go to the hillock. I hurried after him. Together with us there were a man and a woman of about forty -five and a girl of about twelve. He is in an evening suit and with a tie, she is in a long coat and heels, a girl with a bright bow in a pigtail. “My son will participate in the assault,” the woman said, reminding her husband, so as not to forget to prepare the camera. “He and the Ternopil stormed,” she proudly informed me. They stood for quite some time. But the girl became bored, and the man quickly froze. They left.
From the Pierce “Slavutich” was visible very well, but it was still far from before him. By five o’clock people began to pull up. The fisherman, who had been sitting here for a long time, despite the bad bite, was verbose: “Yes, the captain there, on“ Slavutich ” - stubbornly. He says -“ Do not give up, I will open fire to defeat. 40 percent of the team is already on the shore. Contractors even jumped into the water and sailed ashore. Then their mothers were selected and taken home. After all, they are many from the Crimea. ”The fisherman scolded the Kyiv authorities and told the horrors that (“ he certainly knows ”) happen to the Ukrainian military who decided to leave Crimea.
Just at this moment, the tugboat began to approach the “Slavutich”. “It began,” the one who called “Serom” sighed. From somewhere from the side there was a female scream: "Russia, Russia! Give up!" “I went to ...” - one of the men standing on the pier cursed. And he began to once again dial the phone number: “How are you there?”
From the “Slavutich” through the loudspeaker, a warning was transferred about the unlawfulness of the actions of those who are in tow. Then the melody “Varangian” began to play. “They never came up with your song!” - Another observing what was happening gloomily grinned. He stood aside.
“I wrote a report today and quit,” the one who called himself a rat from the ship almost cried. His name is Nikolai, he was a midshipman until this morning. “What should I do? What should I fight against? What should I fight for? I spent four weeks on the ship! Where should I go to Ukraine? And my mother is disabled? In the first grade in the Sevastopol gymnasium! I am interested in whether he is sure that he will be imprisoned. I am absolutely confident - “three contractors who quit, arrested in Kherson, the information was verified, they called for the military commissariats.” “I have nothing against Ukraine, I was even about 11 a.m. I was oh what Ukrainian! But my wife called me, she said - God forbid! So I’ll get advanced today. And tomorrow I’ll go to serve on“ Slavutich ”. He will drive him away to the eleventh pier, I know.”
Nikolai pronounces his monologue abundantly with obscene vocabulary against the backdrop of the wandering strokes of the sledgehammer - the defenders climbed on the “Slavutich” break the captain’s cabin. An explosion is heard. “Grenades went,” someone comments. The picture with people scattered on decks resembles a pirate capture. Nearby cuts circles a boat with machine gunners - all the same “green little men” who have not yet interfered in a “civil discontent action”. It is rapidly darkening. Forwards are asked to turn on the spotlight for them. Already open doors fall into their light. Shots are heard, but who shoots and at whom is incomprehensible. It is only clear that everything is over. And the Ukrainian flag, the latter in the Sevastopol Bay, is no longer - it was disrupted in the first place.
Among those who watched the capture of Slavutich, there was a girl of about twenty -three, who did not utter a word for all the time. The storms already broke into the interior of the ship. None of the defenders had a chance to escape. It became cold. Mart, after all. It was dark and almost nothing was visible, but she did not take her eyes off the ship.
I did not ask who she had there.
“And I am a rat, today I ran from the ship,” said another, smaller, but very strong, but very strong. He was clearly very drunk and was very worried, watching how the tugboat was approaching the Ukrainian military ship, on the stern of which several dozen tall guys were clearly visible. It was half the sixth in the evening of Saturday March 22.
In the morning, at 11 hours, having received information that there would be a storm “Slavutich”, but not knowing when exactly, I found a very convenient Piglet on the hill between the fences of military units, from where the ship was visible in the palm of my hand. To get to the place of Slavutich’s mooring, it was necessary to use the ferry crossing. The boat was called "Jupiter". A man with a barce and a bull neck, sitting behind me, busily agreed on the phone to send a “group of guys to support the Ministry of Internal Affairs” to Simferopol. Someone called him back. I shuddered - instead of a musical rington, an explosion, an automatic line, and then a scream - “Lie down face down, I will shoot to defeat!” The man picked up the phone: “Hello, Kat!”.
The national flag of Ukraine fluttered on the nose of Slavutich, blocked by two Russian ships. Several people were visible on the deck, it was clear that someone with things leaves “Slavutich”, without uniform, in civilian clothes and with more than once visible plastic bags in their hands. (For some reason, such black bags with the inscription BMW are especially common here). A couple - a man and a woman of about fifty, approached the hillock where I prepared to wait for the assault. They began to look at the "Slavutich". "Do you have someone there?" I asked. “Friends,” the man in camouflage pants answered evasively. “They betrayed the guys,” he said sadly. “Neither order nor instructions. Only by the court in Ukraine they threaten.” The man stepped aside, trying to check whether it was possible to somehow get to the ship. This attracted the attention of the guard of Russian sailors, they made it clear that they would not be allowed. "Are you probably a journalist?" The woman asked me carefully. I answered in the affirmative and immediately asked for permission to turn on the recorder. The refusal did not surprise me, but we talked. “This euphoria is already passing,” she said. “People begin to understand that they will not be able to meet with relatives, that there may be a war. I am not against Russia. But you can’t, you know, it was impossible to take and cut off like that! Back in February, no one thought that Crimea would be part of Russia. But what began before the referendum! It is amazing how quickly the people were changing consciousness.”
The woman went to her companion, whispered something to him. He cast a quick glance at me and strode to me. “You want to write, you want - no, but I will tell you: the Ukrainians, the Soviet fleet officer, campaigned to go to their side, but no one, heard, never humiliated anyone and put his face down under the muzzle of a pistol!” The man was noticeably worried, it even seemed to me that he was bad. “Why does the ships capture the“ defense of Sevastopol ”, and not the Russian military?” I asked. He grinned: “It turns out“ as it were ”, that it’s not a combat enemy, but“ disgruntled citizens ”want to capture the ship, and it’s impossible to shoot“ as it were ”at them. Only these defenses have always been special forces - they can see them a mile away by gait. The defensemen themselves would never have taken a warship themselves! Gorky for Ukraine, it’s a shame for Russia!”I am bitter for Ukraine, for Russia - ashamed!
About four hours later, when I again went to a memorable hillock, it was already impossible to climb it. A patrol (two stood with machine guns at the ready, one flirted with a girl in a short skirt) stopped me. "And what, you can't see?" I asked. "We ourselves do not look!" -one of the sailors answered in such a tone, as if his “Friends-Patsa” were taken around the corner to “mark” a strongly exalted comrade. But I do not want to watch a few people beat alone. Fascinated ...
“Let's go to the pier,” a man waved to me, also trying to go to the hillock. I hurried after him. Together with us there were a man and a woman of about forty -five and a girl of about twelve. He is in an evening suit and with a tie, she is in a long coat and heels, a girl with a bright bow in a pigtail. “My son will participate in the assault,” the woman said, reminding her husband, so as not to forget to prepare the camera. “He and the Ternopil stormed,” she proudly informed me. They stood for quite some time. But the girl became bored, and the man quickly froze. They left.
From the Pierce “Slavutich” was visible very well, but it was still far from before him. By five o’clock people began to pull up. The fisherman, who had been sitting here for a long time, despite the bad bite, was verbose: “Yes, the captain there, on“ Slavutich ” - stubbornly. He says -“ Do not give up, I will open fire to defeat. 40 percent of the team is already on the shore. Contractors even jumped into the water and sailed ashore. Then their mothers were selected and taken home. After all, they are many from the Crimea. ”The fisherman scolded the Kyiv authorities and told the horrors that (“ he certainly knows ”) happen to the Ukrainian military who decided to leave Crimea.
Just at this moment, the tugboat began to approach the “Slavutich”. “It began,” the one who called “Serom” sighed. From somewhere from the side there was a female scream: "Russia, Russia! Give up!" “I went to ...” - one of the men standing on the pier cursed. And he began to once again dial the phone number: “How are you there?”
From the “Slavutich” through the loudspeaker, a warning was transferred about the unlawfulness of the actions of those who are in tow. Then the melody “Varangian” began to play. “They never came up with your song!” - Another observing what was happening gloomily grinned. He stood aside.
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"Varangian" "Slavutich"
“I wrote a report today and quit,” the one who called himself a rat from the ship almost cried. His name is Nikolai, he was a midshipman until this morning. “What should I do? What should I fight against? What should I fight for? I spent four weeks on the ship! Where should I go to Ukraine? And my mother is disabled? In the first grade in the Sevastopol gymnasium! I am interested in whether he is sure that he will be imprisoned. I am absolutely confident - “three contractors who quit, arrested in Kherson, the information was verified, they called for the military commissariats.” “I have nothing against Ukraine, I was even about 11 a.m. I was oh what Ukrainian! But my wife called me, she said - God forbid! So I’ll get advanced today. And tomorrow I’ll go to serve on“ Slavutich ”. He will drive him away to the eleventh pier, I know.”
Nikolai pronounces his monologue abundantly with obscene vocabulary against the backdrop of the wandering strokes of the sledgehammer - the defenders climbed on the “Slavutich” break the captain’s cabin. An explosion is heard. “Grenades went,” someone comments. The picture with people scattered on decks resembles a pirate capture. Nearby cuts circles a boat with machine gunners - all the same “green little men” who have not yet interfered in a “civil discontent action”. It is rapidly darkening. Forwards are asked to turn on the spotlight for them. Already open doors fall into their light. Shots are heard, but who shoots and at whom is incomprehensible. It is only clear that everything is over. And the Ukrainian flag, the latter in the Sevastopol Bay, is no longer - it was disrupted in the first place.
Among those who watched the capture of Slavutich, there was a girl of about twenty -three, who did not utter a word for all the time. The storms already broke into the interior of the ship. None of the defenders had a chance to escape. It became cold. Mart, after all. It was dark and almost nothing was visible, but she did not take her eyes off the ship.
I did not ask who she had there.