Vot chto udalos najti v moej zapisnoj knizhke togo vremeni [1988]:
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Lodzinskij ordena Alexandra Nevskogo
otdelnij [109?] inzhenerno-sapernij bataljon
Perepravochno-Desantnaja Rota
PMM-2 "Volna" #412
Komandir:
Sgt. Geydarov A.
Meh.-Vod.:
myself
pntr: "Babohon" (paren iz Tadzhikistana)
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Pomnju chto "Perepravochno-Desantnaja Rota" byla na 3-em etazhe kazarm, na pervom byla "sapernaja rota", a na vtorom rota razgrazhdenija[?!}
A nasha kazarma byla rjadom so stolovoj [kazhetsja 2-h etazhnoj]. a v uglu byla banja...
Povtorjat pro "Desantno Shtrmovoj Bataljon" v nashem garnizone, AVTOBAT chji kazarmy byli naprotiv nashego Sapernogo Bataljona - kto-to ob etom uzhe pisal.
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06.07.07 22:22
От кого: Kamil Dadashev <KDadashev@hotmail.com>
Кому:
oschatz-vizite@narod.ru
Zdravstvujte, Vladimir,
Eshe raz izvinjajus za Latinitcu - ubogo zhivem v Minnesote Winking smile emoticon Mne ponravilos predlozhenije Хорста Коль o dokumentirovanii zhizni v Oschatz'e [konechno ona sostoaj bolee chem iz zhizni soldat srochnikov - kak by trudno mne samomu v eto bylo trudno poverit]
Ja ne proch sodejstvovat v etom proekte, I u menja est predlozhenije - ja ponimaju, chto russko-jazichnim I nemecko-jazichnim chitateljam eto naiboleje interestnij material, no mne kazhetsja, chto nado rasshirit bazu anglo-jazichnih chitatelej. Vzjat moju zhenu, k primeru, ona hot iz Polshi, no po-russki uzhe ne obuchena, zato anglijski dovolno horosh. Tem zhe Polskim istorikam [pokoleija moej zheny I mladshe] budet legshe prolopachivat material o Oschatz'e [kto ego znajet?!]...
Ja popytajus sdelat nabrosok togo chto mne dovelos ispytat v Oschatz, Dayte do ponedelnika vremeni...
Kak I obeshal - moj opus s kratkim opisanijem moego 6 mesjachnogo prebyvanija v Oschatz. Dovolno mnogoje ja opustil - komu interestnije soldatckije bajki da otupljajushaja rutina - luchsje Jaroslava Gasheka "Svejka" ne napisat, a tratit vremja na podrazhanieje - neserjezno.
Napisal po-Anglijski, esli b pisal po-Russki to eshe by s nedelju potel by. A iz fotografij tolko pugajushego vida soldatskije fotografii s licami kavkazskoj nacionalnosti otkuda ja rodom.
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Oschatz 109 Army Engineering Corp Battalion.
Our two “ZIL-131” army trucks spitted us out of their boxed guts on a stone-paved road in front of the barracks on a late gray morning of a late November day of 1988. After an hour or so of zigzagging ride from Brandt distribution center where we were sent after graduation from a 6 month Engineering School, we have finally arrived to our final destination – 109 Army Engineering Corp Battalion. A huge so-called “platz”, which made our Engineering Corp Training camp “platz” in Glau where we just came from - a playground for Lilliputians, was U-shaped by 3 story high barracks painted in anxiety inducing color gray – “What’s there for us? Are we going to make it here?”
Oschatz! We are in Oschatz – a new name on our journey of 720 days of service. But in the mean time we were brought to a room where a major who as we later figured out was out battalion political officer was asking us whole bunch of questions and stuff. Soon a captain in old-fashioned glassed showed up and picked a few guys including myself and brought us to the 3rd floor – our new home – a co-called “Desantno-perepravochnaja rota”.
What the heck is a “desantno-perepravochnaja rota” we learned later on – our pressing objective was to be shipped to a tour of duty to a place called Zeithain where were about to support tank regiments field training.
Is this all about Oschatz?! Is it yet again another conscripted solder’s story of how hard the service time was all about? Yes and no.
What memories I have of Oschatz if I for a moment forget about being an enlisted man during those days? I did not know at that time that our garrison used to be a Keizer’s era barracks complex though my gut feelings were telling that quite a few generations of young men had gone thru a Prussian style military education there. Why those grey barracks were so depressing – I don’t know [on a side note my next 12 month stay in Juterbog in red-brick barracks was a whole lot of a different tale!]?!
I remember being on a guard duty at night while guarding an auto-park and an eerie feeling being surrounded by those hundred plus year buildings that reminded me Soviet era TV cartoons based on Hans-Christian Andersen’s fairy tales. Or those long, as then seemed forever lasting, guard duty hours during winter time – the cold which after Baku climate [who knew that later in life 3 years in Minnesota made me immune to cold!] appeared beyond believes temperatures – since thermometers were a nonsense under those circumstances – it was about -15C.
Despite all of this, there were bright moments when we would go through our garrison during the early morning guard change while everyone sleeping and I had such feeling of satisfaction that we all were serving our country, doing something hard to grasp for us as enlisted men, but an honorable mission – giving away our youth years for sake being citizens of our country who paid our due in full. To some it sounds pathetic, to some it is even ridiculous – they were only trying to get over it as soon as possible in get back home in one piece.
OK, OK, OK, so where is the juicy part of it?! Where is discussion about pseudo-Gothic architecture of a city of Oschatz, where are stories of tea-parties with local Germans during our liberty-leaves, where are photos of any kind? Where is the meat?!
During my 6 months stay there – only once I remember our battalion was marched through a city of Oschatz on a some sort of tour [no worries, there was no tour guides] and I vaguely remember that we approached a river that goes through the city. No picture taking, no fraternization with local populous, no fuss. We were just marched through it – I guess there was nothing else to do in Oschatz?!
And then twice we went on an unsanctioned trip to Oschatz vicinity. Well, I remember, a group of 4 or 5 of us went through farm fields towards some villages near Oschatz. On a way there, around 10:00 pm, we met an elderly German man pedaling his bike who when he saw us, stopped and with a heavy German accent commanded us in Russian, “Hey, zoldaty, idi svoj kazarma!” Obviously we ignored him and kept on going deeper into terra incognita of the forbidden fruit of exploring what real Germany was all about.
We laughed among us at a silly man whom we all could have easily pushed away, but he did not attempt to stop us physically and proceeded pedaling. At first I felt such disarray of emotions, “Who the hell do you, old man, think are you?” The sense of self-pity mixed with rage overwhelmed – we had to put up with being on a 24 hour barrack stay leash, and when we finally out grasping fresh air of liberty – you old fool are lecturing us?!
No dead body of an old man was reported that winter of 1988-1989 in Oschatz, we were on a mission more important than spitting out our frustrations on a poor stranger. And a mission was as simple minded as ourselves at the time - a rather common act of exchange of Soviet made canned food rations with local Germans for some extra cash which we all were constantly short of.
A knock on a first door of a stand alone house. An elderly couple watching TV, sees us and shows us to go away… And time after time, after time… Nobody needs our canned food rations…
Empty handed we got back to our base in about an hour or so.
On another occasion a guy who knew the local population took me on trip a German house very close to our base. Walking on a empty street around 10:00pm or 11:00pm. A neat little, one story house on a left of the street. Knock on a door. A woman in her 60’s opens up. “Hi! How are you?” exchange, and then my scout switches from his broken German to Russian and the old lady replies back in a pretty good Russian without any German accent. “Wow!”, I thought.
I still vividly remember she asked us, “How old are you guys?” And I with a phony pride spoke back, “I am 18 years old!” Her reply humiliated me and completely destroyed my overly inflated ego, “Boys, you are still such babies?! How did you ever allow to serve?!” After wearing my uniform for 8 or so months and being a month or so away from my 19th birthday – I could not accept such a pitiful reality – the outside world takes me for a kid – no matter what.
The old lady offered us some cognac – being an older guy between my scout and I – I took a first shot. Must admit that I immediately demolished my self-image by starting coughing after I emptied the shot! I let the other guy to have his shot which he finished so smoothly that I got suspicious – how come a 6 months younger guy drinks and does not cough?! Little did I know that he was rather frequent visitor at this house… but that another story.
As a gratitude we offered our befriended lady our rations which she refused to take – “Boys, I have too much of them already, you are kids yourself, keep it for yourself!” During our chat she mentioned that she was originally from Moldavia, but left it [or forced to leave] with German troops when Soviet Army advances took place. “A living witness of such historical events”, I wished I could sat and record her story, but we had to go back to out garrison, and that was first and only friendly human contact with the local German population of Oschatz. I’ve never seen this lady afterwards.
Spring of 1989 in Oschatz was great – after a semi-desert climate of Apsheron peninsula where I grew up – seeing green grass all over was like being in paradise! In a far sticking out Oschatz’s Rathaus twin towers, blossoming and blooming vegetation everywhere!
Funny episode – one late evening of that spring of 1989 I was walking behind our garrison fence near the farm fields and suddenly I saw an officer coming toward me. Like many enlisted men – you have this gut feeling of – “it is not going to be a good face to face!” To my great surprise, it was a lieutenant who was trying to catch a tiny baby porcupine for his child, and he asked me to help him out. Guess what?! I caught the beast with my so-called “pilotka”. When I was passing the baby-porcupine to the lieutenant – I could feel the guts of the little pup, and it felt like, “Man, life is so great! For the first time in almost a year I sensed that I could be just a normal human being like those Germans across the fence who have the whole plethora of emotions verses being limited to “Yes, sir!”… I felt being “At ease!”
The officer took the porcupine and walked away in the dark the same way he appeared…
And childish memories of having German soy-chocolate for 99 Pfennigs which we yet again bought illegally at a local liquor store across the fence. What else we bought there?! Apple Schnapps – I remember that which we had when we celebrated yet again unofficially some holidays unapproved by military commanders.
The last moments in Oschatz were full of disillusion and hectic lack of any kind of sense – our battalion was about to be shipped to the Soviet Union and enlisted men were aimlessly wondering around trying to avoid confrontations with the officers who nobody knew what they were doing in the mean time. It was May of 1989 – the world was changing outside of out small household called Oschatz 109 battalion , but we hardly suspected anything about what was really going on. Only after I watched “Goodbye Lenin” movie here in Minnesota in 2006, only after I returned home and read about so-called Berlin Wall collapse, I could grasp the significance of the events I was small part of.
Anybody remembers those days in East Germany with GDR flags hanged but a hole in place of a GDR insignia?
In mid May of 1989 we were transferred to a similar unit in transition in Zeithain which eventually settled down in a city of Juterbog where I spent the rest of my 2 year-tour of duty in East Germany.
What do I recall when somebody asks me about Oschatz?! The twin tower Rathaus, the Keizer-era barracks, the soy-chocolate, the Apple Schnapps, the Moldavian old lady… and many other memories. But the most important part – we all were young kids – fresh out of school or as some, literally, as they say in anecdotes of that era – during their descent from mountains to get some salt – were swept off streets to be conscripted in a far away place called East Germany.
Oschatz – it will always be a 109 Army Engineering Corp Battalion for me.
P.S. There are so much to write even about those 6 months in Oschatz that it goes beyond a few pages published on a web-site. I personally would love to hear more stories of other people who has a different prospective. We all have something to say and it will be pity if it will be gone unrecorded.
Hope it helps,
-Kamil Dadashev
Wir-sind-ein-Volk@hotmail.com
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