First-person account of August War

These are the notes of a Arkadiy Babchenko, a Novaya Gazeta journalist who followed the Russian 58th Army into Georgia last August. I was recently hired to translate them from Russian.

What is particularly interesting is that the recently assassinated Chechen commander Sulim Yamadaev is a character in the journalist’s unfolding story.

To read the account in the original Russian click here.

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«Keep your heads down. I’ve never taken this kind of fire before»

On August 10, I rode into South Ossetia from Vladikavkaz with volunteers. There were about 150 people in several buses. Buses course constantly back and forth, bringing volunteers, bread — and most importantly, water — and returning with evacuated women and children. There are fewer volunteers than one might expect.

Rumor had it that the road to Tskhinvali was closed, but such did not seem to be the case. They are letting everyone through without interrogation provided you had a passport. The only question: “are you carrying any weapons?” Not to take them away, no one with weapons was allowed to turn back.

From Alagir on South the pavement had been crushed by armored vehicles. The 58th Army is on the move, the whole thing from what I can tell. The armored column had spread itself across 40 miles, if not more. There were lots of broken down vehicles. I counted 10 vehicles that had turned back. Nothing out of the ordinary – tanks in crap condition.

There were constant traffic jams, it was bumper-to-bumper in both directions, but they are letting us through freely. Refugees are escaping by whatever means possible — only women and children.

We drove into Java, the first major town after the tunnel. It now serves as a terminal for departures. The whole expanse of the town has been overrun with people and cars packed up with possessions – television set wrapped in sheets, goats on leashes. Like Shanghai.
The volunteers came to a stop here in Java. Transkam is the only road connecting South Ossetia to the North. Before it reaches Tskhinvali it winds through a few Georgian villages. You will be fired on if you go through. I got a ride with some shady guy in a shot-up military vehicle without a windshield. We took a detour down Zar road through the forest. The road was nothing but dust, and it was all hitting us in the face.

When we got to the city it was already dark. Mobile artillery pieces bellow out periodically and snipers are at work. The artillery seems to be ours, and is firing on the high-rises on the outskirts of the city.

We stopped when we encountered peacekeepers. They were as tired as can be. The battalion of peacekeepers had been hit particularly hard by the invading Georgian army, but they put up a real fight. The official numbers say 11 deaths. But, in unofficial conversation, the talk is in the dozens. For instance, supposedly two infantry fighting vehicles (IFVs) were burnt up – and their crews with them. They had been ordered not to open fire, and were sitting in the Georgian landing zones. Different totals are named, some say 15 – others say 200 men lost.

The city has been almost totally destroyed. Everything has been burned. Mobile «grad» launchers, artillery and air power had all been at work. There is nothing left, no water, no power, no food. Worse of all is the lack of water. People are feeding themselves purely on humanitarian rations, brought in by the Russian army and volunteers – each one coming into Tskhinvali with cars loaded up with supplies. The rations are being given out by the train station, in front of the hotel. Georgians are firing on refugees going in the other direction.

The Georgian army came into the city from three sides. They did not come in overwhelming numbers – supposedly three tank battalions and 600 to 2,000 infantrymen. They were unable to hold the city, as militiamen and the greater part of the 58th Army hit them in the mountains around the city. Two destroyed Georgian tanks sit at an intersection. Something unidentifiable burns beside the remains of the crew. Dogs are eating them. Altogether, I counted six destroyed Georgian tanks and about 30 dead troops around the city — all in the outskirts. No one is gathering up the bodies, they are beginning to stiffen. The smell has already crawled through the streets. Bodies litter the grove. It’s not recommended to go there; it’s mined.

The Ossetians have taken prisoners. Someone showed me a photograph of 10 people in a basement, but said that there were more – a few dozen.

The 58th also sustained losses. Two planes were shot down, after which, the column’s air support was gone and two Georgians were blown up with their IFV. There were losses within the city itself. It’s difficult to determine exact numbers – who, what, when, where? No one knows. It’s war.

It is impossible to report on the losses among the civilian population – there’s simply no information. They have dealt with their fallen relatives themselves. But the number is not in the thousands. Eight people were killed in the area around School Number 12. They were taken inside a building, where three other bodies were found wrapped and tied in sheets in two apartments: Eduard Gagloev, Zalima Gagloeva-Tibilova, and Dina Kadjoeva. They had attempted to leave the city in a light vehicle, were shot and burned.

In the morning on the 11th, situation had more or less stabilized. I got a hold of Eduard Kokoity’s press secretary. It seems the president of South Ossetia was in the city the entire time. He promised to consider an interview.

Many Russian tanks have already come into the city, they are now taking up positions. But the majority are still in transit. Sulim Yamadaev stands near the press center of the peacekeeper’s headquarters. The “East” battalion arrived on the 9th, and participated in the mopping up the last Georgian resistance in the city. It now seems they are preparing to clean out the Georgian towns on the Transkam road and wipe out the dug-in remainders of the Georgian offensive. I jumped into an armored vehicle.

The massive column headed out. The 393rd regiment, mobile artillery, tanks. Ground-attack aircraft were flying over head. They had been operating through the mountains. They were being fired on by rockets – cloudy trails trace through the sky. The rockets are being fired from somewhere very close. They seem to be shoulder-fired. Nevertheless, one of the aircraft was shot down – I couldn’t see it myself through the trees, but those sitting on the adjacent vehicle were convinced that a rocket hit it on the tail. The two pilots ejected.

There are three enclaves populated by Ossetian-speakers under Georgian control. We went to clean out the western enclave. Destroyed and burning light vehicles littered in the road — one had been pancaked by a tank. A bit farther sat a burning IFV and a jeep. Apparently these ones – Russians – had been left without cover.

The “East” battalion is riding on three IFVs and three APC’s. The APC’s were given by the Russian army, the IFVs are war trophies. The Georgians had abandoned them during the Russian offensive. The sides of their vehicles were adorned with signs painted in white reading “Chechens,” “Yamadaev’s Men,” “East.”

Not far from the center there is one more tank with a soldier beside it. He has a cellophane back over his head. I see something reddish-grey in the helmet on the ground.
The Chechens were greeted as liberators. One old man brought them 50 bottles of wine, there was a universal feeling of exaltation and salutation.

Riding with the Chechens is unusual to put it nicely. To the eye they are pure cutthroats – bearded faces wearing their green hats. We ride to the battle cry: “Allah Akhbar!”
We made it to Hitagurovo – a large Ossetian village, and the last before we arrived at the Georgian enclaves. We pass abandoned peacekeeping posts along the road. Jets and artillery have already begun the assault.

The East Battalion takes up the rear of the column. We stopped for a long time in front of some town. I could see what looked like long white cow sheds. In one of them I saw a bright flash. This was followed by a explosion and thick black puffs of smoke billowing into the sky above the town. A firefight is breaking out, the tanks are engaging.

We tear towards the village. Moving in the road splits – one street goes straight, an other to the left, and one other to the right past a water tower. Something flashed to the right. On the side of the road, a mobile artillery battery was already opening up on the town. They are firing at the brick buildings above which a Georgian flag is raised on the left side of the town. Our vehicles hurry out of the village.

We get out of the vehicle and race down a road along a canal. There where the explosions had been occurring, a firefight was heating up. Nearly the entire East battalion along with five correspondents entered the village and were pinned down. Our group — riding in the last APC — was the only one left.

They would not let us enter the village. The Georgian forces are beginning to attack the tanks. In a “stop n’ go” manner we made our way to the water tower. We are entering the fire zone. You can’t tell if it’s a bombardment or a tank battle. The fire is very concentrated. The shells are landing extremely close – no more than 30 to 50 meters away. “Keep your heads down, I’ve never taken this kind of fire before.” I was hit in the right hip by a piece of shrapnel. It hit hard, but didn’t cause a major wound — just a scratch. I was saved by the embankment along the canal.

We are no longer taking small-arms fire, but the firefight remains intense in the village. The Chechens begin firing off grenades from their rifle-mounted launchers. We hear the cries of the wounded. Platoon commander Terek was struck in the leg by shrapnel. His leg had already been tourniqueted, but the blood was still pouring out fast. I try to bandage him. It didn’t work well as we took more fire. The artillery opened up a salvo, first a “grad” launcher, then a mortar team simultaneously fired of their tubes. I don’t know what to cover, my camera, my head, or Terek. His leg was broken, the shrapnel seemed to have passed all the way through. We carry him to the APC.

The medics were about a half a kilometer away. Immediately an IFV full of other wounded appeared behind us. Six men. We took them all. All 18 of the guys were from the infantry. I recognize one of them – Private Savelin from Ryazan. Seriously burned. He asks for cigarettes.

I take pictures, my camera smudged with Terek’s blood.

We return to the intersection. By this time the battle had ended. The battalion is leaving the village. It was called Zemo-Nikozi, as it turns out. We bring two flabby guys with us – Georgain reservists, now prisoners. They are tied up and looked down upon. I approach Commander Yamadaev. “Sulim, I beg of you, don’t kill them.” He looks at me in total bewilderment. “Are you out of your mind? Who’s going to kill them?”

A few soldiers and correspondents remained in the city – Orkhan Jemal fom “Russian Newsweek”, and a film crew for REN TV lead by Andrei Kuzminovy. They leave shortly after.
They give the breakdown of the situation: they came to Zemo-Nikozi by accident, and it seems none was left standing. They were heading straight for Gori, as was the marching column. In the middle of the village, the column was split into two – a tank and two IFVs were incapacitated. The larger part of the column stayed in the village, another part left down a different street and stayed there. The East Battalion came up to the tanks but could go no further, they were taking fire from mobile artillery and small arms. A Georgian spotter sat behind the tanks. When he was taken out, the fire ceased immediately.

We pass the night in a field. I can’t sleep. Our jets are engaged, but not with targets in the town, rather further into Georgia. Some sort of heavy vehicles pass along the roads. I can hear tanks moving around in the town. At the three in the morning, three tanks were coming at us. We defend ourselves. No weapons heavier than RPGs were used. They turned out to be on our side, from the other part of the column. We figured it out from radio contact and their rockets.
The casualties of the day: nine dead, all infantrymen, and eight wounded – six Russian soldiers and two Chechens: Terek and Ibrahim – both hit in the leg.

I had changed my opinion of Yamadaev’s men. It wasn’t a battalion, it was a family. All that was left were those who didn’t join Kadyrov. The “hey you, get over here” attitude is unthinkable. Many of them are young and all fight magnificently. I talk with one of them all night. He told me his wife was taken hostage to force him to join Kadyrov, and that he was taken captive too. He was tortured. But many of them had fought in the First Chechen War.

No one has been hitting the Georgian prisoners. They are given water, food and coats to stay warm at night. They are normal guys, reservists. They say that you get four years in prison for disobeying the mobilization order. They will be handed over to whoever possible – except the Ossetians. The Ossetians would kill them right away.

In the morning there was no counter-attack. The column formed up and left for Gori. We arrived without a shot fired – no resistance. We had camped out three kilometer from the city.

There we linked up with the first part of the column. Apparently they had come straight here from Zimo-Nikozi. They fought their way through, dislodged a Georgian army battalion but sustained no losses, just one wounded. Burnt American jeeps stand in the road. In the orchards, airplanes had stuck a large column of reservists – few dozen vehicles. The Georgian army is pulling back with virtually no resistance.

In Gori, we received the order to abate military actions. There is talk of Saakashvili’s capitulation and resignation.

The mood is triumphant without a doubt. The Russian army is 10 minutes away from a major Georgian base, and if needed could easily seize it – it’s obvious. I fly out of here in the helicopter full of wounded and dead. Eighteen-year-old guys. Blown to bits by grenades in the village. One still somehow resembles a man, only about a meter and half is left of another one, a third is carried about occupying no more than a rain jacket. It stinks of burnt human meat. For some reason Russia always pays for greatness with the lives of boys.

We sit in Java. I hitchhiked back to Tskhinvali. In the Georgian villages along the Transkam road everything is burning. The remaining Georgian soldiers are being hunted basement by basement and are being shot on sight. In the euphoria of destruction and pillage people are taking absolutely everything from cars and furniture to sheep in trunks. Georgia has lost South Ossetia forever – it’s clear. The hate has become absolute.

Arkadiy Babchenko
Special Correspondent for Novaya Gazeta, veteran of Chechnya.
13.08.2008