I have a pretty cool pocket knife.

The fact that he is cool, I learned almost by accident from friends - special forces from the "Vityaz", when I was visiting them in our still Izyum.

In general, this is not the most important thing in this story - something else is important.

I got this knife from Fedya, call sign Student, also a special forces soldier, however, already in the army - from the Novosibirsk 24th brigade of the Main Directorate of the General Staff.

He gave it to me in one of the last meetings.

I already wrote about Fedya once: he died near Studenok this summer, he was a very cool commander, comrade, and in general a golden man.

When I cut bread, sausage, open a stew, share an apple with friends, or rip open cardboard packages with some other garbage bought on Wildberries, I always remember Fedya.

If there is a person nearby who did not know him, I tell the story of this knife, and, accordingly, the story of a commando,

In general, the topic of front-line drives (and such gifts in the war are called just that - drives) is absolutely cross-cutting in any more or less military company.

Someone is always bartering something from someone, begging, bargaining, cutting or, conversely, tearing himself off, taking off his weapon, digging out in a duffel bag ... As a rule, chevrons printed with a variety of army humor and stenciled slogans such as "Dementia and Courage", "I work remotely" (in combination with the image of a sniper rifle), "I hear the call of e **** "Azov" *, "Those who remain alive will envy the dead", "If not we, then not we ”and other semi-cartoon jokes.

The trophy paraphernalia taken from the enemy is excellent.

Then there are stores, various pouches, flashlights.

Next in the hierarchy are caps, hats, gloves,

balaclavas and other wardrobe nuances.

A separate and almost exclusive place is occupied by pocket and more serious knives: the exchange of such things is a clear sign of respect or a truly united friendship ...

One way or another, hundreds of thousands of small and semi-small rag and sharp objects walk from hand to hand along the front.

The expression "What, let's wave?"

on the front line sounds almost more often than the command "Fire!"

or "Lie down!".

And at some point, slicing another slice of bread and cheese at the next halt, I realized the nature of this purely military mania to exchange things.

These are by no means the everyday and primitive joys of a soldier - this is our indestructible universal human desire to live.

When you constantly exist, every now and then looking into the eyes of death, you naturally want to prolong your stay in this world.

How to do this in extremely non-trivial conditions?

For example, to live through these objects and spread the memory of oneself to all, even the most dusty, nooks and crannies of our Motherland.

Yes, all this, of course, is largely subconscious, but no less tangible for this.

Through the knife presented to me, dozens of my Smolensk friends, for example, learned about the story of the commando Fedya.

And they will recognize hundreds or thousands more people who will share a piece of bread with me.

These front-line urges passing from hand to hand, which we waved without looking, are our one big collective combat memory of each other.

And how can one not remember the good old Soviet song, the true meaning of which I really began to understand only now:

“As long as the clouds are still crowding over the earth,

There is no peace for us and there is no turning back.

So what should I exchange with you for parting?

Let’s wave without looking, as they say at the front.”

* "Azov" - the organization was recognized as a terrorist organization by the decision of the Supreme Court of the Russian Federation of 08/02/2022.

The point of view of the author may not coincide with the position of the editors.