Excerpt

The base was deployed broadly and conveniently in the plain, and when the column came out of the gorge Senior Lieutenant Borisov right away took the base in at a glance. The stuffy heat in the BMP tracked infantry combat vehicle was unbearable, exceeding all imaginable notions of heat. Worse than on a babe in a steam bath, Borisov thought.
...
Borisov could feel it: the cliffs had suddenly gotten hot in the still air. The water he had just drunk poured over his face in sweat. He tore the flask from his lips in a resolute gesture and hung it on his belt to the approving glances of the soldiers. One of Storonkovs remarks had alarmed him because it had been said in a strange tone of voice. What was it? Something important? Oh, right! Why does a spook have a better chance of getting into heaven than you do?

Storonkov gave a laugh totally devoid of kindness. Because the Afghan believes in Allah and is fighting for his vatan, while we dont believe in Allah and are fighting to take his vatan away from him.

Whats vatan?

His country.

Borisov again sensed himself in the most dangerous of environments, one where you dont know where your people are and where the other sides people are, or even worse, when you dont know who are your people and who are the other sides people. From Storonkovs cold smile he realized that the sergeant had read his thoughts, knew his fears, and guessed at his fear.
...
He heard only the first shot, and then everything was drowned in a roaring and clanging. ... Something gave him a shove. He thought he sensed the strange weakness that comes on after youve been wounded. As he reloaded he realized that a weak explosive wave had reached him and pushed him onto the machine gun. Bullets were constantly seeking him and whistling by.... When the dawn spattered light from behind the mountain, ... Borisov had expended all the ammunition he had at hand. There was no way he could rid himself of the trembling that wracked him. ... Shots were banging at even intervals. Tangry the Turkmen was lying not far from him, aiming in even motions, sending bullet after bullet, and reloading. ... Getting out his large binoculars, Borisov was about to sweep the battlefield. A grenade explosion reverberated. Fell short. Dont go anywhere! They were shooting over there from behind that mule, Borisov thought. At least seven or eight bullets entered the animals corpse. A turban and the muzzle of a carbine appeared from behind another mule, and a shot rang out. Five or six bullets struck the mules corpse in response. ... Corpses were strewn along the gorge at varying distances from him. ... Great guys, great work!
...
An Afghan boy was lying behind a mule. He looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. He was breathing hoarsely with his bloody mouth wide open and covered with insects. When he breathed out, pinkish life showed from two holes in his chest. The boys carbine, an SKS-45, was lying alongside him. The boy didnt reach for it; he only looked silently now at the Shuravi standing there, now at the sky, and more at the sky. ... Now he, stinking through and through of death and his own barf, had to finish off this Afghan kid with the huge black eyes staring at the sky. Let him look at the sky, let him look. He knew he wouldnt be able to stand the boys looking at him. Kumankovs sharp and lisping voice made him shudder.

Do it! Youve got one more client. Well?
...
After the events of the last forty-eight hours, his fear of politics remained very nearly the strongest fear he had. ....

Youre worrying about nothing, Lieutenant. The higher-ups know all about it, especially since many of the officers are sick with this, um, lets call it sickness, too. And I even think what you call this ideological sabotage is of benefit to the higher-ups. Judge for yourself. People come here to fulfill their international duty, to protect the Afghans from the Americans, Chinese, and Pakistanis; or to protect our southern borders; or all that put together. After awhile its going to become clear to some, to those who like to think or cant live differently, that there arent and havent been any Americans or Chinese or Pakistanis, that we havent beaten anyone to the draw with our invasion and our war, that if we hadnt come in, the Americans would have is the same baloney as all the rest.
...
Commander of the assault battalion Captain Sarkian shook everyones hand. So youre back, Lieutenant. I heard, I heard it all. You lucked out. And my guys didnt. ... Any news? No? Then Ill tell you: well soon be pulling out of Afghanistan. Theyre going to sign a piece of paper in Geneva in a few days. ...

...

...his greedy eyes stubbornly followed the waitress. She wasnt pretty, she was too plump, under her clothes one could guess at a body already beginning to become decrepit, and her neck was wrinkled and almost old. Nevertheless, Borisov couldnt tear his eyes off the woman, couldnt help but desire to embrace her, to put his head on her breast, or... leap on her crudely, shove her savagely onto a bed.
...
The wails of the women and the crying of the children got on their nerves. Tension grew. Borisov expected shots, but what he got was dogs, huge, black Afghan dogs. They had shot five or six dogs when entering the village. ...

... Captain Sarkian, spitting blood from his shattered mouth, yelled, All of them! Shoot every fucking one of them! All of them!