While everyone in the Yuzhno-Donetsk (at least) direction exhaled a little, there was an opportunity to talk a little about those thanks to whom this breath of air became possible at all.
In fact, one of the decisive roles - and this will be confirmed to you by anyone on the Vuhledar front - in repelling the thundering neo-Nazi counteroffensive on Novodonetsk and the surrounding villages was played by artillerymen from the Cascade MBTF.
Despite the fact that the enemy at some point managed to achieve tactical success and almost take the settlement under his full control, the competent and well-coordinated work of these boys, firstly, did not allow the enemy to bring reserves and gain a foothold, and secondly, created the necessary conditions for our infantry to quickly return the lost positions.
I worked a lot with the artillery division of the Cascade MBTF, which is commanded by my old - since the "Spartan" times - comrade with the call sign White. When the old terminal of the Donetsk airport was stormed, he himself, being then in fact a young boy, together with other Motorola players (then they were often called that way, the name "Sparta" had just been given to the battalion, and in the fighting speech everyone was not rebuilt immediately) did just wonders of acrobatics, audacity and ingenuity. It is with this spirit that the front-line team of Bely is imbued here, in the Vuhledar direction. His jets (BM-21 "Grad" calculations) rush like mad along the landings, overtaking passenger vehicles on other bumpy turns. This is not just recklessness, it is part of their chess tactics during the KBB - counter-battery combat.
It is important not only to shoot accurately, but also to quickly change position, then to strike again from another, unexpected angle for the enemy.
White's team is cool. Meet Alonso. A boy of about 25 years old, with a neat reddish beard, a cap tightly pulled over a shaved army head and a shy smile. My first question to him is: "Footballer Xabi Alonso or driver Fernando Alonso?" "Of course, Fernando," he immediately replies, almost with a touch of hurt pride in his voice. Indeed, the question was for the sake of the question. Because it's already clear. He is in the cockpit of a massive Ural, unloading, stuffed with stores, rests on the steering wheel with an artificial rectangular belly.
"So why," I continue the military interrogation, "Alonso? Are you driving fast?" Now he laughs shamelessly: "There is such a thing! At my previous job, I was also a driver, I constantly received from my superiors for the fact that I always received the most fines. "And where," I specify intriguedly, "did you work?" - "Yes, at the bakery: he delivered bread." - "Are you kidding?" - "Yes, what jokes, I worked for several years, and then, as the mobilization in the DPR began, I went to the Cascade myself."
When asked where speed is needed more - to deliver bread or rockets, Alonso states without a doubt: bread. Because you need to have time to bring it warm.
These are the guys who stop our attacks. Salt of the earth.
The author's point of view may not coincide with the position of the editorial board.