To Catch a Fox

A seemingly endless expanse of white rolling hills spread out as far as he could see. Here and there it was broken up by a section of forest. The trees were covered with snow, yet green growth showed up wherever the wind had blown off the snow or the bright sun softened it sufficiently for it to fall through the branches to the ground. Although stands of hardwood deciduous tree could be seen, they became less frequent as the transport lumbered in flight high over them. Gradually, there were increasing numbers of conifer and other evergreen-forested areas. This then gave way to long white stretches of plains areas that were broken up into cultivated fields on what used to be collective farms.

Remaining in the more comfortable seat in the aircraft’s cabin area, Deiter finally succumbed to the demands of sleep. The previous night hadn’t been too conducive to rest. Although the accommodations had been more than he could have asked for and the bed sufficiently comfortable, so many other things were going through his mind that after initially dropping off to sleep, he awoke and then dozed fitfully the rest of the night. His head dropped onto his chest and he had been either asleep or dozing for almost two hours when the navigator reached over and shook his shoulder. “Colonel, we are approaching Grozny,” the Lieutenant cautioned. Deiter was instantly alert.

Through the windshield, Deiter could just make out the skyline of the city in the distance; mountains rose to the south and swept across the entire horizon from east to west. A quick look at the instruments indicated that they were approaching the city from the east. He presumed that they has flown over Gudermes and turned to the east to circle Grozny and would finally return to land at their airfield destination. The pilot pulled back on the throttle and adjusted the flaps causing the aircraft to slow; the nose dipped and Deiter could see that they were losing altitude. At an altitude of one thousand meters, they leveled off and started their circling to the south. Deiter understood why the general had wanted him to see the ruins of the city. Being a generation and a country away from the hatred and bigotry harbored by both sides, Deiter could feel compassion for all the combatants of this conflict. He knew that the general looked at the situation through his personal loss and that of his beloved Russia’s loss of one of its provinces. He also knew that there was more to the situation than that biased side. The Chechens were prideful, yes, but they had a real stake in the outcome of the conflict as they had for hundreds of years. General Konykov’s grief was new; the Chechens’ grief spanned generations. Deiter knew that the general wanted him to see the destruction and grief that this insurrection had caused, yet Deiter saw more than just that, he saw a people being destroyed.

Deiter’s attention was so drawn to the landscape below, and he almost missed the instructions that the pilot gave to the crew over the intercom. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of light spring from the belly of the aircraft and soar across the panorama below. He shot a questioning glance towards the navigator who smiled and pressed his intercom button. “Flares...to confuse the surface-to-air missiles,” he explained.

Deiter nodded; he quickly understood the reticence the crew must have had concerning the order to circle Grozny. This was still a war zone. Flares were launched from the belly tubes of the aircraft at regular intervals as they circled the Chechen capital. This had been a standard practice during the Afghan War and had proved its worth even though it caused many fires in built-up areas. Deiter could see the devastation that had been wreaked against the rebel-held sections of the city. Many buildings were mere shells, and several roads had large craters in them. Nothing could be seen in the form of human beings moving in the streets. Deiter guessed that Russian snipers were keeping the populace at bay during daylight hours. Deiter’s briefing by the general had included the fact that rebels for the most part still controlled the city and most of the suburbs.

Suddenly, a different flash caught Deiter’s eye. It started in an open area ahead of the aircraft’s flight path. He watched transfixed as the brilliant light rose up to meet the circling aircraft. The pilot suddenly banked left and Deiter could hear several flares being fired from somewhere down below in the plane’s main compartment. The aircraft then banked right and climbed in altitude. It seemed to be in the throes of a slow-motion dance of death with the missile. Deiter knew instinctively that the outcome was inevitable as he felt a violent shudder accompanied by an explosion heard over the roar of the engines; it had a ring of finality, but not surprise.