I came to the building of the Supreme Council. It was night, without people, a small fire was built, and Homeless People were warming themselves around it. I thought that, like then, in august of ninety one, no one would rise to defend the country. And everyone hid, hid in fear. But when the sun began to set, people appeared. They appeared alone groups, columns. They carried flags, imperial black and gold, st. Andrews, scarlet, tserpom and hammer, they carried fantastic , unknown to me, flags of some patriotic organizations, everyone converged on the house of councils, the construction of a barricade began, a barricade appeared before our eyes and old reinforcement, split boards, broken chests of drawers, sofas, from broken mirrors , limonov, who had recently returned from emigration, appeared there, the crowd greeted the speakers with admiration, songs began to play katyusha, the armor of the skater, our fast tanks, artillerymen, stalin gave the order, all this continued until the soldiers appeared and began to surround the buildings of the house of councils with barbed wire, this sharpened spiral of bruno was turned off at the house of councils. Telephone, electricity, heat, and he began to cool down, slowly turning into a huge, cooling block of ice. The day newspaper was an organ of resistance; it was carried by the revived houses through tunnels and underground communications. A young man, almost still a boy, was opening a castiron manhole cover, somewhere in the area of the belorussian station, i went down into dungeon and he. Led me in these gloomy tunnels murmuring with water, i carried a pile of newspapers under my arm, and we emerged half an hour or an hour later from another hatch near the walls of the house of councils, and the defenders of the house of councils greedily grabbed the newspaper, read it, passed it from each other in my hands, i remember that meeting of the Supreme Council , dark with candles and lanterns, when rutsky was proclaimed president of russia, amazing, incomparable and heroically rudsky, how to fight obesity, it turns out you have to eat fat, how can this be . Foods for the purpose of inflammation, how reduce intraocular pressure, the program to live well will help everyone. Tomorrow on the first. According to our legend, Petro Poroshenko is recruiting fighters for his personal private military company. What is the average price for training one soldier . Euro per person. Includes accommodation and three meals a day. This. Trudskoy, who was captured by the pakistanis and they tortured him, hung him on a rack, tortured him, trying to get information from him about the assignment he received. That rudskoy, already a hero of the soviet union, who returned to perestroika moscow, i introduced him to my friend, priest lev lebedev. I then participated in his Election Campaign and was delighted with how the hero of the soviet union, rudskoy, hugged. On the podium with an orthodox priest, the same rudskoy who, after i published my word to the people, threatened me on television with twelve years in prison, the same rudskoy who was now taking the oath of a volunteer regiment in the house of soviets, i watched as he looked at the fragile flowing by him a chain of volunteers, some with beards, some with thin goose necks, some with faded gold shoulder straps . And during the procession of this velenitsa there was so much pain, so much doom that tears came to my eyes. This is the rudskoy who, amid the roar of tank guns, ran around his office and demanded that his comrades rise to the occasion. This is the rudskoy whom i met at the gates of the lifortovo prison, and he came out of it with a long chenille coat, with a huge black beard, and we honored him as national. Hero, i remember how on october 3 a huge crowd gathered on october square and moved down the crimean bridge to the house of soviets to free the besieged comrades, some kind of crowd broke through the narrow chain of security with its rampart, almost tearing the barbed wire around the house of councils with its hands, fraternization took place with the dedicated deputies and with the barricades defending the house of councils. And what rejoicing swept over everyone then, and no one noticed how high in the evening green sky a wedge of cranes flew over the house of the soviets, they slowed down their flight over the house of the soviets, destroyed their wedge, rebuilt, created a new wedge, flew out of moscow into the distance, somewhere far away far away, disappeared with them our hopes for victory. Makashov , in his famous beret, from the balcony called on the people to go to ostankino, and for me ostankino is a black night, a roaring crowd, a fire in a small building, a truck stuck under the canopy, megaphone voices calling from the darkness for those gathered to disperse, suddenly flashing searchlights and machine gun fire on crowd. Red trossers burst into the crowd, its roar of lamentation, the running of people running away. I saw a stunned armored personnel carrier rush past me and look out of the hatch. Crazy, with huge eyes driver, one of the demonstrators tried to throw a bottle of gasoline after him. In the night park in dubrava, opposite ostankino, i heard the sound of bullets hitting living flesh. In the morning, tanks finished off the opposition, martial law was declared, i, along with my newspaper friends, executive secretary evgeniy nefeodov and my deputy vladimir. Choice do you have the right to disappear to escape misfortune . Or we are starting a new newspaper, and its name will be tomorrow, everyone stayed with me. The day burned in the Burning House of the soviets, but from this the flames disappeared tomorrow. During the first chechen war, my opposition began to kill. Among the crazy yeltsin rule. Dont look for words, and he invited me to his ministerial office, in white, like a lump of sugar in the buildings on arbat square. I have already visited this office more than once, meeting with marshal yazov. All the same pomp, the same luxury, a huge locked globe. Gorachov received me cordially and gently asked me to stop the attacks on his person. He said that my afghan novels are on his bookshelf, to us. Afghans there is nothing to share among ourselves, i left his office, the severity of my newspaper criticism decreased, but the events of the ninetythird year, the shooting of the soviet house from tanks , inflamed it with renewed vigor. Gorachev, obeying yeltsin, gave the order to the maraffam Airborne Regiment to storm the house of the soviets. The paratroopers, hiding behind the armor of the transporters, entered into a firefight. Defenders of the house of soviets, those were terrible days, when some afghans shot at others, when the afghan garachev ordered to shoot at the afghan rudsky, and my new tomorrows newspaper did not forgive gorachev for the order that he gave, forcing his subordinates to shoot at the house of the soviets; it was he who sent to the bridge those tanks that hit the palace of the soviets, turning it into a conflagration. When the first chechen war broke out, i turned to grachev. With a request to send me to war, it was unbearable for me to see how liberal journalists shot in the back of the exhausting russian army from their picture tubes, it was unbearable to see how many liberal hacks threw mud at russian soldiers and this praised the heroism and resilience of chechen terrorists. I assured gorachev that i would not use my newspaper to harm the russian army, but would use all my capabilities to maintain morale. Because the victory of terrorists in the chechen war promised the irreversible collapse of russia. Grachev believed my assurances and sent me to the front. I ended up in a formidable one, when battles were still going on for sunzhi and this city looked like a checkered wafer, and black trees, cut by shells, as then in ukovari, raised their branches upward, looking for mercy. With a platoon paratroopers, feeling like a machine gun. They were moving along some unknown city alley, and on both sides lay dead civilians. The hangar on the Station Square was full of corpses and. Yeltsins tricolor. I swore to the red banner. The red flag was for me a symbol of a great country. And yeltsins tricalor was the emblem of her defeat. But here, in grozny, looking at this tricolor flag, i saw that it was all smoked, pierced by bullets , the rod of shells, ruffled, fringe torn from it. It was restored by the russians marines during the assault. And now, crashing over the palace, he. Aroused my acceptance, he told me that a new state had emerged in russia, defending its existence in mortal battles, and i was a participant in these battles. It was amazing to see the sight that greeted me during those dank , cold february days. A gas pipeline was torn out of the ground by the explosion of a shell, two frayed steel pipes were sticking out, and two fiery ones burst out of them with a roar. Gas torches, they created a ball of light and a ball of heat, in the light of these gas torches, tiny , strewn with white flowers, stood a small cherry tree, in the midst of the february frosts it was deceived by this light and heat, it blossomed naively and trustingly, then the sight of this blooming deceived cherry gave me a painful feeling, but now i think that then it was a wonderful sign that maybe someday these ruins, this roaring torn iron will again turn into a wonderful city, i will walk along its wonderful streets and nothing will remind me of this terrible war. Near argun, together with the paratroopers, i was on plasticine field , as the paratroopers called it, because it was liquid, sticky, adhesive, and so. I fell into this field almost to the tower and rushed with a roar, like a madman, through this field, fearing the impact of a grenade launcher in the sky spotted helicopters appeared over the white argun and pierced the city with their black pointed hunchbacks. There , under the orgun, i met with the foreman of the narofaminsky regiment, which stormed the house of the soviets, and there was no rejection in me, i saw in them warriors who fought and died for their state. All mine sympathy, all my feelings were on their side. I was with them, i was a statesman, i was in the same trench with them. The russian army fought in chechnya, having experienced a colossal defeat in the ninetyfirst year , insulted in its Afghan Campaign , exhausted in endless national conflicts, an army assembled piece by piece, languishing in battle, but this army had its heroes, its. Martyrs and ascetics. Evgeniy radionov, who became a national saint, was just a boy captured by chechen terrorists. He was asked to renounce army to remove the orthodox cross from his chest and renounce russia, but he refused. His head was cut off. His mother, Lyubov Vasilyevna radionova, having learned about the death of her son , rushed from the Moscow Region to chechnya, and there, moving from. One warring village to another, from one army unit to another, she looked for her sons grave, found it, and ensured that the body was removed from the ground and sent home, the headless body was buried near podolsk, then the unfortunate mother returned to chechnya again, met with field commanders, begged them to show the place where the head of the deceased son was buried was dug up for her, near podolsk across all of russia, on hitches, trains, electric trains, she took her son to the grave and buried her. Tomorrow my newspaper was the first to talk about the feat of evgeniy radionov, and rumor spread the news of this feat throughout russia, in russia they began to paint icons with the image of evgeniy radionov, and erect a chapel at the foot of the road in his memory. More valuable than life, this something was russia for him, it was his state, and in me there is a strong, statist, sixth airborne the company went to war from podskov and took the battle in the mountains, all fell to their bones without letting a detachment of thousands of the enemy pass, it died, like the warriors died in the isborsk fortress, every last one in the sacred battle, this company carried my adoration into battle. Vsky, my precious friends, my first love. At the end of the caucasian wars, i found in the mountains the place where the paratroopers laid down their lives. On the slope of the mountain at the edge of the forest stood a small stone cross, erected here by the pskovites. I picked some wildflowers i placed my modest bouquet at the base of the cross. So the chechen soldiers resurrected the statesman in me and showed that. Russia has a state, the people, saving it, make bloody sacrifices. During the second chechen war, i met general Gennady Nikolaevich trozhev. He was a favorite of the army and revered by the chechens. He fought carefully, intelligently and, so to speak, humanely. Approaching the mykizh village with his men, he was in no hurry to open fire, but invited the elders. The helicopter was preparing to take off. And i hurried to him. There was only one person in the dark, empty cabin. I asked him if he would take me with him on his trip. He took me on board. It was general troshev. Since then, we have been friends with him, and did not part, until his untimely death, when he was flying on a boeing that crashed. We were in chechnya several times with my friend, war correspondent for the newspaper tomorrow vladislav. Shurygin, today he shines as one of the best analysts of the ukrainian war. Troshev gave us a helicopter, and we flew along the sunzha, along which floated slow, melting ice floes. Along the shore, long, motley, limped, litter stretched, as if a garbage truck had passed here and thrown out garbage along the way of its exploration. There were piles of rags, torn blankets, splinters. Basayevs detachment was leaving grozny. Our scouts left basayev a Narrow Passage from grozny and lured him out. And basayev sat on minefields here near sunzha and came under heavy fire from russian machine guns. Here basayev lost his leg. We flew in a helicopter over the carnage. Which i wrote in my novel walking in the night, i remember the impenetrable chechen night, i flew in a helicopter over villages where there was not a single fire, it seemed that there was not a single living soul left in these villages, but in the Black Mountains exploded Gas Pipelines were burning with red fiery spots, i was riding on an armored personnel carrier and the wheels of the armored personnel carrier were squeezed out green viscous oil poured out of the ground, flowed onto the fields, and there was no one to collect it and place the oil pipeline. The helicopter brought me to the mountainous chechnya, where there were battles and general kunk stood on the top of the mountain. The general controlled the battle, fought the battle, attack aircraft, helicopters, special forces groups, artillery, in this kung, on a sagging sofa, i saw the newspaper tomorrow, read to the core, and this was my reward. For my labors and births, at the same time i met Akhmat Kadyrov, his tall, curly butt, heavy, tired face framed by a beard, and a soft, warm handshake, it was in khankala, in a small brick building that was built for the new chechen administration , especially for Akhmat Kadyrov, this building was subsequently blown up. Terrorists who sentenced Akhmat Kadyrov to death, this explosion spared kadyrov, but did not spare another, which happened later, when kadyrov was already the president of chechnya. Spoke at a rally in grozny, he was amazing, akhmat hadji kadyrov, fighting against Russian Troops, shooting at Russian Troops for the garden, he suddenly saw the whole tragedy of this terrible war, which promised the incineration of chechnya and the chechen people. He negotiated with putin, they stopped this war, stopping this endless beating. Beating, killing two. Chechen and russian people, such a mad herd rushes towards the abyss, to its very edge, ready to fall into the abyss and break, and the brave herdkeeper turns the maddened herd around at the very edge of the abyss, and takes it away from death, so Akhmat Kadyrov stopped the chechen war, saved many lives of chechens and russians, saved chechnya and russia , perhaps in his terrible moment. Every time i come to chechnya, i go to the grave of akhmat khadzhi kadyrov, in his native village of tsantaroy, the koran is read over his grave day and night, and it seems to me that the air above his grave is glowing. Ukrainian telegram channels they write that. Of all the civilizations living on the planet today, the oldest is chinese, almost always china has been the most populated country and the first economy in the world. We can recall the famous travel book of marco pola, an italian merchant, who described with great amazement the power and level of Economic Development that he observed in chinese cities at the end of the 13th century. Monochrome painting, chinese poetry, refined literature, china, of course, was ahead of almost all countries in sophistication. After the end of the second world war, the soviet union immediately took patronage over china, more than 10. 00 specialists from the soviet union worked in china and created almost the entire modern chinese economy. One of dinathiopins first decisions after he became the leader of china was to create an institute for the study of bukharins ideas, so that it works in china. I wanted to thank all the doctors, volunteers, surgeons, excuse me, im already in tears, because i live, and these brothers are there with me, its worth it when you painted, what i was thinking, i was thinking about victory, on saturday at the first, then i had experience communicating with. Oligarchs, the newspaper tomorrow spoke harshly about the role of oligarchs in the chechen company. I had articles in which i said that the russian people were sandwiched between chechen grenades and oligarchy banks. Vladimir gusinsky invited me to a meeting. On the table where we were sitting there was a bottle of wine and two glasses. Gusinsky asked me to stop negative publications about bankers and banks. He said that if he it wont work. Speaks kindly to me, he will find other means to silence me, we poured wine into glasses, i said that i heard him, we clinked glasses and parted ways, and a week later i. Published one of my toughest words in the newspaper articles about chechen grenade launchers and oligarchic bankers, very soon at the entrance of my house i was hit in the back of the head with brass knuckles, i had a concussion, i kept remembering how our gusin glass clinked. Berezovsky several times became the hero of my novels, i demonized him, he acquired the image of a monstrous monster in my nove