The Daily Life of the Staropromyslovskaya Commandant's Office

Today, the district military commandant's offices in Grozny are not just local military and administrative bodies responsible for organizing life and ensuring security in the large and heavily damaged city. They are much more than that. They are the lifeblood that fuels the former metropolis's awakening from its slumber. The gates of the Staropromyslovsky District Commandant's Office are always bustling with activity. At least, according to local standards. Currently, the district is home to approximately 11,000 residents. People keep coming into the improvised office of the military commandant, Lieutenant Colonel Vyacheslav Alekseyev. Each of them has their own concerns. Most often, of course, they ask for help in solving everyday problems: providing food and drinking water, repairing their homes, or searching for their relatives. The commandant and his deputy, Major Yuri Solokha, are used to this. They help everyone as much as they can, and they don't turn anyone away.

However, in recent months, life has taken its course, and the commandant's office has been receiving requests and suggestions from visitors to help restore production at the Tyazhmash and Vtorchermet enterprises and to promote the activation of the bakery.

"Unfortunately, we don't have much honey and milk here," Lieutenant Colonel Alekseyev smiles wearily. "And that's understandable. The residents have a need for literally everything necessary for a normal human existence. The militants also keep them on their toes, with nightly shelling. However, life is gradually improving.

This is indeed the case. Three secondary schools have already started their work. The teachers of the destroyed 49th school are conducting classes at their homes. The demining of the enterprises located in the area is nearing completion. Fortunately, many of them have been well preserved, and the directors are still in place, having visited the military commandant several times. There are no significant staffing issues, as people are gradually returning to the city. Most of them are from the northern regions of Chechnya.

To see firsthand how Old Promysly live today and what problems the military commandant's office and law enforcement agencies face, we were offered a short tour of the area.

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The city of despair?..

I had visited Grozny three times before. Each time, the city presented a new image: tragic in January 1995, full of unfulfilled hopes for revival in July 1996, and now, in the spring of 2000, Grozny seemed like a city of despair...

As soon as our car broke free from the gloomy labyrinth of streets and entered the Palace Square, the conversations in the back of the car ceased as if on command. The bright sun only emphasized the contrast and increased the feeling of unreality in the surrounding landscape. Only the damaged lampposts reminded us that life had once been vibrant here. However, it was not during the Russian army's assault on the city that life came to a standstill. At that time, the "forced coma" in which the residents of Grozny, as well as all the inhabitants of Chechnya, had been plunged by the leaders of the Dudayev-Maskhadov regime, came to an end. It was they who turned the capital of the republic from a peaceful and prosperous city into a well-fortified bandit fortress, which, unfortunately, the soldiers and officers of the United Group had to take with heavy fighting.

A little later, conversations in the dusty back of the truck resumed. After experiencing shock from what we saw, we tried to joke, thereby relieving stress. Someone suggested opening an extreme tourism center in the ruins. Someone came up with the idea to lease them to Hollywood for the filming of "horror films". I must admit that it was a sad joke... They laughed in general, trying to hide their true feelings behind deliberate cynicism. Meanwhile, everyone imagined the terrible battles that took place among these ruins, where courage and despair, anger and bitterness were intertwined in a fiery tangle. After all, it was here, in Starye Promysly, that extremists once tried to use chemical weapons against our soldiers and civilians by detonating several containers of toxic substances.

Closer to the center of the district, the picture is somewhat different. There are still houses in the private sector and administrative buildings. The guide tells a story that reflects the mood of the people. When the elections for the President of the Russian Federation were being prepared, militants infiltrated the city one night and destroyed all the campaign materials at the polling station, leaving threats scribbled on the walls. However, this did not deter the people. They were simply tired of fear, and their faith in a stable government was growing stronger with each passing day. In the morning, when he saw this, the chairman of the district election committee swore on the Quran that he would lay down his life to hold the election, no matter how angry the terrorists were. And he did hold the election, no matter how angry the terrorists were.

The markets in Starye Promysly are open, and the military commandant's office not only allows them to operate but also encourages them to do so. In this situation, any civilized step towards normal life is important and valuable. This is a common occurrence in Chechnya, where the shooting hasn't stopped yet, but goods are already available on the stalls. On one of the stalls, I spot a real market product - fresh beef. Out of curiosity, I take a look at the price. It's quite reasonable, at least lower than in most Russian cities. However, there are no customers in sight. Only a skinny dog wanders around, dizzy from the smell of meat. I reach out to pet it, but it jumps away. The seller realizes the situation and organizes a promotion: he cuts a piece of lung and gives it to me, saying, "Here, have some." The dog, both hungry and afraid, approaches and delicately takes the subproduct from my hand...

The next object of our visit is a bakery. According to Natalia Anatolyevna Amirkhadzhieva, the director who has been in charge since 1990, bread production was only halted during the most intense battles. This year, the bakery has been operating since February 17, with the active assistance of the military commandant's office. They have helped restore the electricity supply and provided transportation. The current production capacity is 11,000 loaves per day, with flour supplied by the Ministry of Emergency Situations, and the bakery staff taking care of the rest. Currently, more than 40 people work at the factory. They do not receive salaries, but they are nevertheless satisfied and hold on to their jobs. All the products are sent to food distribution points.

On our way to the central commandant's office, we stop at one of these points. There are four field kitchens, wooden tables, and benches. There is no crowding or pressure, and everything is organized in a clear manner. Elderly women receive plates of buckwheat porridge and bread from the cooks with silent dignity. It may not be a lavish meal, but the people are grateful for what they have.

When they see people with cameras among us, some of them ask us to take a picture. It turns out to be for a new Russian passport. That's also a problem. Many people don't have any documents,

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and the photo studio in the city will not open again! The local authorities have not yet reached out to everything.

This is how many Grozny residents still live. During the day, they spend time at food delivery points, in commandant's offices, and in places where they occasionally give out "humanitarian aid". They return to the basements at night. Of course, now it's still nothing, but what happened in the winter... The solution of all problems to employees of military commandant's offices, of course, is still on our shoulders. Now the main thing for them is to support life in the city in general. At least until the issue of large-scale restoration of the city is resolved.

Lieutenant Colonel Vyacheslav Alekseev believes that this is possible. In any case, the moral prerequisites for this are already visible. People began to treat the authorities with noticeably greater confidence. Not only that, as already mentioned, they are gradually returning to Grozny. More and more often Grozny residents cooperate with the commandant's offices on their own initiative. One of the manifestations of this is that local residents themselves constantly warn employees of the commandant's office about impending attacks and provocations.

However, the people of Grozny value only real help; they are already tired of talking and newspaper battles. I had to see this for myself.

"There, you see," said an officer of the mobile unit of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, pointing to the entrance of a miraculously preserved five-storey building, "that's where the rector of Grozny State University lives. Talk to him."

Near the entrance, there was a table with simple dishes, and a man and two women were sitting nearby. The rector's family was preparing to have lunch. When they saw the people with the TV cameras, one of the older women stood up.

- Go back to where you came from. Don't take pictures. I won't talk to you. What good are you to us?

We retreated, embarrassed, trying to walk back the same way, almost step for step. Mines, however...

Guarding the peace

We went to spend the night at a checkpoint near the center. The Chuvash OMON officers who were on duty there welcomed us warmly. After a modest dinner, it quickly became dark. Some of the OMON officers went to rest, while others took up their positions. It's worth noting that the checkpoint was well-designed. It had concrete walls with loopholes and sturdy roofs. Inside, there were restrooms and a small kitchen with a gas stove. If necessary, it could withstand a siege.

Meanwhile, it was finally dark.

"Don't stick your head out of the courtyard, stay under the canopy," the OMON officer, Alexander, warned me. "We've set up tripwires around the area."

That's true. A hundred meters from the checkpoints, there was a high-rise building, from the upper floors of which our courtyard was visible as if on a plate. We spent the night talking. In a low voice, so as not to miss anything. Around two o'clock, a single shot was heard. A bandit sniper was working. No one moved near the loopholes.

"They're provoking us. They'll fire at a checkpoint, then at the next one. They're hoping we'll start a shootout," Alexander explains. "But we don't respond to single shots."

Twenty minutes later, the sniper fired again. Then, after the same interval, he fired again.

"It's like he has a timer going off," my companion joked.

Until dawn, the shots were fired every twenty minutes. Then everything fell silent.

The checkpoint was waking up. The kettle was humming on the stove, and people were heading to the washbasin. It was the beginning of another workday. The commander went to check the signal stretchers first. He returned with a frown.

- They've taken pictures, the bastards. And at the entrance to the high-rise building, too. How do they manage to do it in the dark?

In general, as we were told, the night was extremely quiet. The sniper didn't count. There were times when they fired at us with a grenade launcher. The first cars appeared on the road, marking the end of the curfew. The OMON officers were doing their usual job, checking documents and inspecting luggage. Someone's passport raised suspicion. They immediately called for an operational team via radio. The driver and passengers patiently waited. Order is order.

I look around. Next to the" block " granite monument of Friendship of Peoples. Once upon a time, statues of a Chechen, Ingush and Russian stood shoulder to shoulder on its pedestal. Today, the monument is a shapeless block. The broken fragments lie on different sides of the pedestal. Is it time to collect rocks?..

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