Rifleman Andriy is breaking down. Perched on the camp wall he stares at the maneuvers of a russian tank, the guy driving could easily be his age. "So, what would they want from me? That I come out and fight those folks?". It is not courage lacking here, it is rather confusion. The same muddy feeling that took over hundreds of thousands of Ukrainian soldiers during these days of absurdity, caught between a fragile revolution and a solid invasion. Andriy is pissed off by his friends, calling non-stop to ask his surrender against that friendly army coming from the East, while his commanders are even more mixed up and do not make their move, with all those ballbusters of the officials, their minds soaked with the ideological indoctrination that keep on shouting to revolt, to resist, to rebel.
It is hard to ease his mind being on the opposite side of a 10mt wall, glimpsing his 20 years old eyes half covered by his balaclava.
Andriy is too drained to have a linear thought, is speaking freewheel without any pause, continuously looking over his shoulder to make sure no officer can overhear him - or russian soldier either.
His words paint a surreal and dramatic image of what is happening in this base camp, 40km away from the county capital Simeferopolis, equipped with selected troops, tanks, light artillery - the best of the Ukrainian defense in Crimea.
All started on Sunday morning, right after the roll call. The boys saw outside of their gates those fellows with brand new arms, balaclavas covering their faces, all of them provided with enviable gear.
"And now who are them? Russian? Americans? And what should we do now?".
Answer. "Nothing, just ignore 'em".
Andriy's voice is now piercing "Do you get what I say? I've been training for years to fight, and I am now hostage of some ghost". Soldier's pride and citizen's perplexity. Andriy's origin are russian, as for the majority of Crimean and he hates those revolutionaries from Kiev. His family lives in Pionerskoe, a tiny village 10 km away from here. "You see, they fill their damn squares with applauses for Putin's intervention. I understand them and share their opinion. But I am a soldier, you know?!"
On the field all around a russian troop displayed trucks, tanks and armed patrols searching the valley day and night. They have camp kitchens, tents, messes and devices unknown to their ukrainian peers.
At a first glance, they'd make it more for a security squad rather than a siege one.
But inside the base camp everyone behaves as if nothing, as for the orders.
The commanding officer leaves is tent now and then, to pay a visit to his wife, in a village nearby.
He walks through his troop - their faces hidden behind black hoods - not saying a word, he passes by the two soldiers opening the gates - his face straight and cold.
When the gates close behind him, the surreal tension sets off among the soldiers, who argue, question and sometimes even start a fight. But to beat each other up is a cold comfort, especially because of the pressure rising. In the dormitory someone is asking to sign an oath of allegiance for the independent republic of Crimea. He asks his comrades, one by one, to sign it. Andriy refuses.
"I swore my loyalty to the whole Ukraine. Technically speaking, it's betrayal." he takes a pause and glance down, before adding a less noble truth, but much more human "But what if they all make arrangements..what about me?".
Factions are two. The officers, with their indoctrination techniques, which are by nature near to the influence spheres of the capital, pushing the soldiers to join the revolution.
Andriy smiles, tensely. "They call you, separately, they take you aside and tell you we have to fight this siege and to free the base camp territory. They, from their desk-roles, they tell me go out and organize a counterattack. Pure madness." These pressures have their weight, which even took the shape of the colossal and whiskered Minister of the Ukrainian Defense some days ago. Someone sneaked him in through a secondary access, mocking the russian surveillance. Oleksandr Kozmuk, using his veteran jargon, told everyone to resist, that someone in Kiev was setting a plan to fight off the russians, a plan that would have started soon, very soon.
But the 20 years old rifleman does not understand.
"Let apart the fact that I have nothing against those russian boys, but c'mon, let's be real...have you seen their gear? They would crush us without any effort."
Andriy's head suddenly disappears. A russian patrol pops out over our shoulders. They move forward in silence, the only sound is that of their rifles, waved in the air pointing at the north, to show us the state highway.
As for now, it is them giving directions here.
