«IN THE CIRCLE OF KUNDUZ» Page #8

Mongol opens his eyes, moves, stretches, slowly gets up. As if nothing had happened and not remembering what happened, Mongol, beaming with happiness, silently takes ten cans of condensed milk out of the bag and, reinforcing gratitude with a strong handshake, begins to distribute two pieces to each. Mongol reaches Rust.

RUST:

(indignantly)

F*** you!

He turned away.

SIDOR:

(reassuringly)

Don't worry, Mongol, the treat won't be lost! We will divide it among ourselves.

Sidor happily sings an old 1916 song:

SIDOR:

"Oh, why was this night so good?! My chest wouldn't hurt, my soul wouldn't suffer..."

Friends return in silence - they walk through the desert. Everyone thinks about their own. Ahead, Rust and Strela are climbing the mountain at a rapid pace, followed by Kostyan and Koster. Barely standing up, a blessed Mongol with a bag of tonog behind his back and a happy Sidor, humming, walk in an embrace:

SIDOR:

"Through the wild steppes of Transbaikalia,

Where gold is washed in the mountains,

The tramp, cursing fate,

dragged himself with a bag on his shoulders."

38. EXT. AIRFIELD, CONTROL AND CONTROL CENTER (KDP) — CLEAR DAY, SUNNY

TITLE:
AFGHANISTAN, KUNDUZ AIRFIELD, FEBRUARY 1985

Helicopters with newcomers from the Union land on the runway. They are met by the commander of the reconnaissance company, Senior Lieutenant Boris Naletov and the company foreman, Ensign Kiselyov. Kiselyov orders the newcomers to line up.

Privates – Sidorenko (Sidor), Badmaev (Mongol), Streltsov (Strela), Rust (Tukaev), Tevs (Kostyan), Koster (Kostrov) are called out by name. Ensign Kiselyov leads all 6 in an organized formation through the runway to the regiment standing nearby.

39. NAT. AFGHANISTAN — DAY

TITLE:
AFGHANISTAN. LOCATION OF THE REGIMENT

The young replenishment, friends – Sidor, Kostyan, Rust, Mongol, Sterla, Koster arrived at the location of the unit.

Pale green faded tents lined up in a straight line appear to the eyes of friends. Against their background, a line of out-of-step, exhausted soldiers and commanders slowly stretches, showered with yellow dust, with devastated looks and cracked lips. The warriors are hung with a pile of weapons and machine gun belts. The regiment has returned from combat operations.

Ensign Kiselyov brings the newly arrived 6 young soldiers to the tent of the reconnaissance company standing in the center of the first row.

40. NAT. AFGHANISTAN — EVENING. CRIMSON FLASHES

TITLE:
AFGHANISTAN. SCOUT TENT

At the entrance to the tent on the horizontal bar, he incessantly performs upheavals with a bare torso, a bald-haired, sturdy man. Next to them, shuffling an enameled mug from an iron bucket, a fighter from a height poured a thin trickle over his comrade, soaped to the waist. When they see a young addition, they are interrupted. The washing straightens up, wipes the soap foam from his eyes, silently looks at the arrivals for a second, then waving his hand to the watcher, continues washing.

41. INT. INSIDE THE TENT — DARKNESS

Ensign Kiselyov and the newcomers – Kostyan, Sidor, Strela, Rust, Koster, Mongol enter the tent. The space is illuminated by a lamp hanging on a long wire, 5 kerosene lamps standing at random. At the entrance there is a cylindrical stove with a chimney going up and two buckets filled with coal. There are bunk beds on both sides of the aisle from the entrance. Everyone in the tent is doing something.

In the near corner, sitting at the sewing machine "Zinger", an adroit tailor, is sewing a demob jacket. Vis-a-vis, the 2nd dense warrior, resting his feet on the legs of the bed, forcibly pulls the ends of a canvas belt wrapped in a circle, grinding a leather belt tightly wound on a curved steel pipe at the foot. Sitting on the same bed, the 3rd, with a piece of felt, with Goya paste, gilds the curved soldier's buckle. Behind the stove in the center of the aisle is the 4th - in long blue underpants and white sneakers. A ceremonial overcoat is worn over his body, he personally combs it with a metal comb.

Next to him, the 5th, putting a kirza boot on a stool, mows down the extended demob heel with a knife. Two Tajik translators - the 6th and 7th (translators from Dari) play backgammon with detachment, communicate quietly in their own language. The 8th is lying next to them and reading a book. 9th, lying at a distance, smoking something and thinking about something, listening to a portable Japanese transistor.

In the back corner, isolated from everyone, the 10th impales a tattoo on the 11th with a fitted shaving machine at the heart level - the blood group against the background of the cartridge. Vis-a-vis across the aisle, in the other corner, 7 people sitting on the near lower bunks and lying on the upper tier, listen to the 12th, playing guitar, reciting the liner notes to the song by Mikhail Smurov "I am an internationalist warrior".

ENSIGN KISELYOV:

(loudly)

Guards! I brought a young addition to the company!

Explain to them what and how. Look only without assault.

Armand, you're already a civilian, make sure!

(turns to the one lying on the bed, reading a book)

Armand looked lazily at the newly arrived young fighters, said nothing, turned away. Kiselyov smiles slyly, leaves the tent. The warriors in the tent openly ignore the appearance of the six newcomers, continue to go about their business. The attention of the young people is drawn to the two bunks standing in the middle of the left row.

The bunks are neatly made, white edging is stretched diagonally from the headboard to the foot of the blankets. At the top, two photographs are fixed on iron backs in wooden frames behind glass. From the photos, two smiling young guys look at the background of armored vehicles.

KAPUSTA:

(for newcomers)

So, young people! We don't sit on these beds for another twenty days!

(the athlete who came in after physical training warns)

until forty days are up. The tradition here is like this!

The young look at each other, there was silence. The silence is broken by a fighter with a nasal voice, a puny, short stature with a high forehead, a duck nose, a lower jaw pushed forward - LEPECHA.

LEPECHA:

Hang yourself, spirits!

(with a malicious smile, reducing the sound of the transistor)

KAPUSTA:

F*** off, Lepecha!

According to our tradition, they have ten days free.

He wipes himself with a colored towel.

KAPUSTA:

Guys, it's okay!

Take a look around for now, get up to speed. I am Kapusta!

Looks kindly into the faces.

KAPUSTA:

Is there anyone from the Altai Territory?!

The young are silent.

KAPUSTA:

Is there no one from there?!

(asks again)

Well, maybe it's for the best. Make yourself comfortable. Now this is your home!

(kindly continuing)

If you're lucky, then for twenty-one months and up to two years!

ADROIT TAILOR:

SITTING WITH HIS BACK TO THEM AND SCRIBBLING ON A SEWING MACHINE – WITH A POCKMARKED FACE AND A TATTOO WITH THE INSCRIPTION «ОКСВА» ON HIS RIGHT SHOULDER

That's if you're lucky!

And if you're not lucky, then less!

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