What makes this story so gut-wrenching is its photographs, mostly taken by Vlad himself and a few by his comrades. One picture shows a group of five of them. He gives their names and tells how three of them soon died and two were seriously injured. When we see TV pictures of American servicemen in Afghanistan today, we cannot help but notice that they all have helmets and often body armor. But none of the Afghantsis, the young Russians who served in Afghanistan, even had protective helmets, only light field hats.
Should not this young Russian's story and those of his American counterparts, the "Vietnamtsis," some of whom exchanged visits with and became friends of veterans like Vlad, serve to dampen the sounds of saber rattling coming out of Washington today? But it won't, will it? Wars are still started by old men and their younger clones. Who remembers that 40,000 body bags were sent to the Near East in preparation for Desert Storm? "Fortunately," only a little over 300 had to be used. That war had a purpose, albeit a somewhat ambiguous one, but the wars that cost 15,000 young Russian lives in Afghanistan and the one that cost 50,000 American lives in Vietnam were wars that had no purpose that the fighters could understand. The fighters had only one purpose: kill before you get killed.
Luckily, in America, reporters broadcast their stories of what was happening in Vietnam and an unprecedented swell of popular protest arose at home. In the Soviet Union there was no protest because no one back home was ever told their boys were dying by the thousands. They were told they were in Afghanistan to build hospitals and help the Afghani people.
In one of his most chilling stories Vlad tells how he had disarmed and knocked down a young Mujahadeen. He aimed at his head but something stopped him: "I saw how his hands were trembling: I noticed the horror in his eyes. `He is only a boy!' I thought and pressed the trigger."
This is a book to be bought, read and taken deep into the heart.
Tamarov was drafted and sent to Afghanistan. When he arrived there, a finger pointed to him and said "Aha! I see a minesweeper!" His boot camp was inadequate and useless training as a parachute jumper in the Soviet Airborne Forces. Parachute jumping is useless in the mountainous terrain of Afghanistan. He had no training as a minesweeper--this was on the job training of the most frightening kind.
Tamarov took pictures (sometimes setting up the camera for friends to photograph himself) and kept a kind of journal of his tour of duty in Aghanistan. When he returned, he was, as he puts it, an old young man. His black and white photographs won contests, but he dropped out of college, determined to write a book based on his personal journal. The book, first published in 1992 was recently republished by Ten Speed Press.
There are two good reasons to read this book. First, the photographs are amazing, not only for their journalistic value, but their artistry as well. They remind me of the Walker Evans photos in "Let Us Now Praise Famous Men" or Dorothea Lange's work of the Dust Bowl years. Second, Tamarov writes from the gut, about his fears, the friends who died, the waste of life, the failed mission in Afghanistan, where, the reason for going was "at the request of the Afghan people." Trouble was, nobody could figure out why they were there before plenty of young men who couldn't get into university, bribe an official or break a leg were sent there only to return home again in a zinc box.
The writing is good, but the organization of the book, being a sort of journal, is sometimes choppy. Tamarov only follows a sketchy chronology, sometimes jumping forwards and backwards in time. This can be hard to follow. The translation captures the Russian feel, the Russian wry sense of humor well. You hear the author talking directly to you.
Afghanistan was Russia's Viet Nam. Tamarov quotes Alexander the Great "One can occupy Afghanistan, but no one can vanquish her." Alexander's troops left behind a memorial column when they marched out of Afghanistan. It stands today, and Tamarov's picture of the ancient monument and Alexander's prophetic statement are a chilling reminder of mistakes of the past, and perhaps the future.
HIGHLY RECOMMENDED
The translation may on occasion not be "perfect English", but I thought the writing was poignant and expressive. I found this journal hard to put down, and was extremely moved by Vladislav's story, both in pictures and words...
