Volodya Yakut is alive. The story of the Russian sniper - Yakut Volodya - in the first Chechen war

18-year-old Yakut Volodya from a distant deer camp was a sable hunter. It had to happen that I came to Yakutsk for salt and ammunition, and accidentally saw in the dining room on TV piles of corpses of Russian soldiers on the streets of Grozny, smoking tanks and some words about “Dudaev’s snipers.” This got into Volodya’s head, so much so that the hunter returned to the camp, took his earned money, and sold the little gold he had found. He took his grandfather’s rifle and all the cartridges, put the icon of St. Nicholas the Saint in his bosom and went to fight.

It’s better not to remember how I was driving, how I sat in the bullpen, how many times my rifle was taken away. But, nevertheless, a month later the Yakut Volodya arrived in Grozny.

The only document besides his passport was a handwritten certificate from the military commissar stating that Vladimir Kolotov, a hunter by profession, was heading to war, signed by the military commissar. The piece of paper, which had become frayed on the road, had saved his life more than once.

Rokhlin, surprised that someone had arrived at the war at will, ordered the Yakut to come to him.

- Excuse me, please, are you that General Rokhlya? – Volodya asked respectfully.

“Yes, I’m Rokhlin,” answered the tired general, peering inquisitively at the man. short, dressed in a frayed padded jacket, with a backpack and a rifle on his back.

– I was told that you arrived at the war on your own. For what purpose, Kolotov?

“I saw on TV how the Chechens were killing our people with snipers. I can't stand this, Comrade General. It's a shame, though. So I came to bring them down. You don't need money, you don't need anything. I, Comrade General Rokhlya, will go hunting at night myself. Let them show me the place where they will put the cartridges and food, and I will do the rest myself. If I get tired, I’ll come back in a week, sleep in the warmth for a day, and go again. You don't need a walkie-talkie or anything like that... it's hard.

Surprised, Rokhlin nodded his head.

- Take, Volodya, at least a new SVDashka. Give him a rifle!

“No need, Comrade General, I’m going out into the field with my scythe.” Just give me some ammo, I only have 30 left now...

So Volodya began his war, the sniper war.

He slept for a day in the headquarters cabins, despite the mine shelling and terrible artillery fire. I took ammunition, food, water and went on my first “hunt”. They forgot about him at headquarters. Only reconnaissance regularly brought cartridges, food and, most importantly, water to the appointed place every three days. Each time I was convinced that the parcel had disappeared.

The first person to remember Volodya at the headquarters meeting was the “interceptor” radio operator.

– Lev Yakovlevich, the “Czechs” are in panic on the radio. They say that the Russians, that is, we, have a certain black sniper who works at night, boldly walks through their territory and shamelessly cuts down their personnel. Maskhadov even put a price of 30 thousand dollars on his head. His handwriting is like this – this fellow hits Chechens right in the eye. Why only by sight - the dog knows him...

And then the staff remembered about the Yakut Volodya.

“He regularly takes food and ammunition from the cache,” the intelligence chief reported.

“And so we didn’t exchange a word with him, we didn’t even see him even once.” Well, how did he leave you on the other side...

One way or another, the report noted that our snipers also give their snipers a light. Because Volodin’s work gave such results - from 16 to 30 people were killed by the fisherman with a shot in the eye.

The Chechens figured out that the federals had a commercial hunter on Minutka Square. And since the main events of those terrible days took place in this square, he went out to catch the sniper whole squad Chechen volunteers.

Then, in February 1995, at Minutka, thanks to Rokhlin’s cunning plan, our troops had already reduced almost three quarters of the personnel of the so-called “Abkhaz” battalion of Shamil Basayev. Volodya’s Yakut carbine also played a significant role here. Basayev promised a golden Chechen star to anyone who brought the body of a Russian sniper. But the nights passed in unsuccessful searches. Five volunteers walked along the front line in search of Volodya’s “beds” and placed tripwires wherever he could appear in direct view of their positions. However, this was a time when groups from both sides broke through the enemy’s defenses and penetrated deeply into its territory. Sometimes it was so deep that there was no longer any chance to break out to our own people. But Volodya slept during the day under the roofs and in the basements of houses. The corpses of Chechens - the night "work" of a sniper - were buried the next day.

Then, tired of losing 20 people every night, Basayev called from the reserves in the mountains a master of his craft, a teacher from a camp for training young shooters, the Arab sniper Abubakar. Volodya and Abubakar could not help but meet in a night battle, such are the laws sniper war.

And they met two weeks later. More precisely, Abubakar hit Volodya with a drill rifle. A powerful bullet, which once killed Soviet paratroopers right through in Afghanistan at a distance of one and a half kilometers, pierced the padded jacket and slightly caught the arm, just below the shoulder. Volodya, feeling the rush of a hot wave of oozing blood, realized that the hunt had finally begun for him.

The buildings on the opposite side of the square, or rather their ruins, merged into a single line in Volodya's optics. “What flashed, the optics?” thought the hunter, and he knew cases when a sable saw a sight flashing in the sun and went away. The place he chose was located under the roof of a five-story residential building. Snipers always like to be on top so they can see everything. And he lay under the roof - under a sheet of old tin, he was not wet by the wet snow rain, which kept coming and then stopping.

Abubakar tracked down Volodya only on the fifth night - he tracked him down by his pants. The fact is that the Yakut had ordinary cotton pants. This is American camouflage, which was often worn by Chechens, soaked special composition, in it the uniform was indistinctly visible in night vision devices, and the domestic uniform shone with a bright light green light. So Abubakar “identified” the Yakut into the powerful night optics of his “Bur”, custom-made by English gunsmiths back in the 70s.

One bullet was enough, Volodya rolled out from under the roof and fell painfully with his back on the steps of the stairs. “The main thing is that I didn’t break the rifle,” thought the sniper.

- Well, that means a duel, yes, sir. Chechen sniper! - the Yakut said to himself mentally without emotion.

Volodya specifically stopped shredding the “Chechen order.” The neat row of 200s with his sniper “autograph” on the eye stopped. “Let them believe that I was killed,” Volodya decided.

All he did was look out for where the enemy sniper got to him from.

Two days later, already in the afternoon, he found Abubakar’s “bed”. He also lay under the roof, under a half-bent roofing sheet on the other side of the square. Volodya would not have noticed him if the Arab sniper had not been betrayed bad habit, - he smoked marijuana. Once every two hours, Volodya caught a light bluish haze through his optics, rising above the roofing sheet and immediately being carried away by the wind.

“So I found you, abrek! You can’t live without drugs! Good...” the Yakut hunter thought triumphantly; he did not know that he was dealing with an Arab sniper who had passed through both Abkhazia and Karabakh. But Volodya did not want to kill him just like that, by shooting through the roofing sheet. This was not the case with snipers, and even less so with fur hunters.

“Okay, you smoke while lying down, but you’ll have to get up to go to the toilet,” Volodya decided calmly and began to wait.

Only three days later did he figure out that Abubakar was crawling out from under the leaf to the right side, and not to the left, quickly did the job and returned to the “bed”. To “get” the enemy, Volodya had to change his position at night. He couldn't do anything anew, because any new roofing sheet would immediately give away his new location. But Volodya found two fallen logs from the rafters with a piece of tin a little to the right, about fifty meters from his point. The place was excellent for shooting, but very inconvenient for a “bed”. For two more days Volodya looked out for the sniper, but he did not show up. Volodya had already decided that the enemy had left for good, when the next morning he suddenly saw that he had “opened up.” Three seconds of aiming with a slight exhalation, and the bullet hit the target. Abubakar was struck on the spot in the right eye. For some reason, against the impact of the bullet, he fell flat from the roof onto the street. A large, greasy stain of blood spread across the mud in the square of Dudayev’s palace, where an Arab sniper was killed on the spot by one hunter’s bullet.

“Well, I got you,” Volodya thought without any enthusiasm or joy. He realized that he had to continue his fight, showing his characteristic style. To prove that he is alive and that the enemy did not kill him a few days ago.

Volodya peered through his optics at the motionless body of the slain enemy. Nearby he saw a “Bur”, which he did not recognize, since he had never seen such rifles before. In a word, a hunter from the deep taiga!

And then he was surprised: the Chechens began to crawl out into the open to take the sniper’s body. Volodya took aim. Three people came out and bent over the body.

“Let them pick you up and carry you, then I’ll start shooting!” - Volodya triumphed.

The three of the Chechens actually lifted the body. Three shots were fired. Three bodies fell on top of the dead Abubakar.

Four more Chechen volunteers jumped out of the ruins and, throwing away the bodies of their comrades, tried to pull out the sniper. Earned from the outside Russian machine gun, but the queues lay a little higher, without causing harm to the hunched Chechens.

Four more shots rang out, almost merging into one. Four more corpses had already formed a pile.

Volodya killed 16 militants that morning. He did not know that Basayev had given the order to get the Arab’s body at all costs before it began to get dark. He had to be sent to the mountains to be buried there before sunrise, as an important and respectable Mujahid.

A day later, Volodya returned to Rokhlin’s headquarters. The general immediately received him as a dear guest. The news of the duel between two snipers had already spread throughout the army.

- Well, how are you, Volodya, tired? Do you want to go home?

Volodya warmed his hands at the stove.

“That’s it, Comrade General, I’ve done my job, it’s time to go home.” Spring work at the camp begins. The military commissar only released me for two months. My two worked for me all this time younger brother. It's time to know...

Rokhlin nodded his head in understanding.

- Take a good rifle, my chief of staff will draw up the documents...

- Why, I have my grandfather’s. – Volodya lovingly hugged the old carbine.

The general did not dare to ask the question for a long time. But curiosity got the better of me.

– How many enemies did you defeat, did you count? They say that more than a hundred... Chechens were talking to each other.

Volodya lowered his eyes.

– 362 militants, Comrade General.

- Well, go home, now we can handle it ourselves...

- Comrade General, if anything happens, call me again, I’ll sort out the work and come a second time!

Volodya’s face showed frank concern for the entire Russian Army.

- By God, I’ll come!

The Order of Courage found Volodya Kolotov six months later. On this occasion, the entire collective farm celebrated, and the military commissar allowed the sniper to go to Yakutsk to buy new boots - the old ones had become worn out in Chechnya. A hunter stepped on some pieces of iron.

On the day when the whole country learned about the death of General Lev Rokhlin, Volodya also heard about what happened on the radio. He drank alcohol on the premises for three days. He was found drunk in a temporary hut by other hunters returning from hunting. Volodya kept repeating drunk:

- It’s okay, Comrade General Rokhlya, if necessary we will come, just tell me...

After Vladimir Kolotov left for his homeland, the scum in officer's shoulder straps sold his data to Chechen terrorists, who he is, where he came from, where he went, etc. Too much big losses inflicted by the evil spirits Yakut Sniper.

Vladimir was killed by a shot from 9 mm. pistol in his yard while he was chopping wood. The criminal case was never solved.

The first Chechen war. How it all started.

For the first time I heard the legend of Volodya the sniper, or as he was also called - Yakut (and the nickname is so textured that it even migrated to the famous television series about those days). They told it in different ways, along with legends about the Eternal Tank, the Death Girl and other army folklore. Moreover, the most amazing thing is that in the story about Volodya the sniper, an almost letter-by-word similarity was surprisingly traced with the story of the great Zaitsev, who killed Hans, a major, the head of the Berlin sniper school in Stalingrad. To be honest, I then perceived it as... well, let's say, like folklore - at a rest stop - and it was believed and not believed. Then there was a lot of things, as, indeed, in any war, which you won’t believe, but turns out to be TRUE. Life is generally more complex and unexpected than any fiction.

Later, in 2003-2004, one of my friends and comrades told me that he personally knew this guy, and that indeed HE WAS. Whether there was that same duel with Abubakar, and whether the Czechs actually had such a super sniper, to be honest, I don’t know, they had enough serious snipers, and especially during the Air Campaign. And there were serious weapons, including South African SSVs, and cereals (including prototypes of the B-94, which were just entering pre-series, the spirits already had, and with numbers in the first hundred - Pakhomych will not let you lie.

How did they end up with them - another story, but nevertheless, the Czechs had such trunks. And they themselves made semi-handicraft SCVs near Grozny.)

Volodya the Yakut really worked alone, he worked exactly as described - by eye. And the rifle he had was exactly the one described - an old Mosin three-line rifle of pre-revolutionary production, with a faceted breech and a long barrel - an infantry model of 1891.

The real name of Volodya-Yakut is Vladimir Maksimovich Kolotov, originally from the village of Iengra in Yakutia. However, he himself is not a Yakut, but an Evenk.

At the end of the First Campaign, he was patched up in the hospital, and since he was officially a nobody and there was no way to call him, he simply went home.

By the way, his combat score is most likely not exaggerated, but understated... Moreover, no one kept an accurate account, and the sniper himself did not particularly brag about it.

Rokhlin, Lev Yakovlevich

From December 1, 1994 to February 1995, he headed the 8th Guards Army Corps in Chechnya. Under his leadership, a number of areas of Grozny were captured, including the presidential palace. January 17, 1995 for contacts with Chechen field commanders In order to achieve a ceasefire, generals Lev Rokhlin and Ivan Babichev were appointed military command.

Murder of a General

On the night of July 2-3, 1998, he was found murdered at his own dacha in the village of Klokovo, Naro-Fominsk district, Moscow region. According to the official version, his wife, Tamara Rokhlina, shot at the sleeping Rokhlin; the reason was given as a family quarrel.

In November 2000, the Naro-Fominsk City Court found Tamara Rokhlina guilty of the premeditated murder of her husband. In 2005, Tamara Rokhlina appealed to the ECHR, complaining about long term pre-trial detention and delay trial. The complaint was upheld and monetary compensation was awarded (EUR 8,000). After a new consideration of the case, on November 29, 2005, the Naro-Fominsk City Court for the second time found Rokhlina guilty of murdering her husband and sentenced her to four years of suspended imprisonment, also assigning her probation at 2.5 years.

During the investigation of the murder, three charred corpses were found in a forested area near the crime scene. According to the official version, their death occurred shortly before the assassination of the general, and has nothing to do with him. However, many of Rokhlin’s associates believed that they were real murderers who were eliminated by the Kremlin’s special services, “covering their tracks”

For participation in Chechen campaign was nominated for the highest honorary title of Hero Russian Federation, but refused to accept this title, stating that he “has no moral right to receive this award for fighting on the territory of their own country"

Many significant events in the life of the state are often shrouded in legends. There are mythical characters in the First Chechen war. Among them is the never-missing sniper Volodya Yakut.

There is a version that he was the real Russian shooter Vladimir Maksimovich Kolotov. By nationality, he was allegedly Evenk or Yakut, and representatives of these nationalities are excellent hunters and shooters. Because of his origin, the sniper received the call sign “Yakut”.

Legend Details

According to the legend spread among the personnel of the Russian army, Volodya Yakut was very young, only 18 years old. They say that he went to fight in Chechnya as a volunteer, and before that he allegedly asked for “permission” from General Lev Rokhlin. In the military unit, Volodya Yakut chose a Mosin carbine as his personal weapon, choosing for it an optical sight dating back to World War II - from the German Mauser 98k.

In general, Vladimir was distinguished by his amazing unpretentiousness and dedication. He literally plunged into the thick of things. The only request that Volodya Yakut made to the soldiers of his unit was to leave him food, water and ammunition in an appointed place. The sniper was famous for some kind of fantastic elusiveness. The Russian military learned about its location only from radio interceptions.

The first such place was a square in the city of Grozny called “Minutka”. There, a sniper shot at separatists with amazing efficiency - up to 30 people a day. At the same time, he left something like a “brand name” on the dead. Volodya Yakut hit the victim straight in the eye, leaving him with no one chance for survival. Aslan Maskhadov promised a considerable reward for the murder of Kolotov, and Shamil Basayev - the Order of the ChRI.

There is also mention that the elusive Volodya Yakut was shot by Basayev’s mercenary Abubakar. The latter managed to wound the Russian sniper in the arm. Yakut stopped shooting at Chechens, misleading them about his death. A week later, Kolotov took revenge on Basayev’s mercenary for his injury. He was found dead in Grozny near the Presidential Palace. The Russian sniper did not calm down after destroying Abubakar. He continued to systematically shoot the Chechens, not allowing them to bury the mercenary according to Muslim tradition before sunset.

After this operation, Yakut reported to the command that he had killed 362 Chechen separatists, and then returned to the location of his unit. Six months later, the sniper left for his homeland. Was awarded the order. According to the main version of the legend, after the murder of General Rokhlin, Volodya went on a drinking binge and lost his mind. Alternative versions contain the story of the sniper’s meeting with President Medvedev, as well as details of the murder of Yakut by an unknown Chechen militant.

Real facts

There is no documentary evidence that could confirm the existence real person with the first and last name Vladimir Kolotov. There is also no evidence that the said person was ever awarded the order for courage. On the Internet you can find photographs of Volodya Yakut’s meeting with Medvedev, but in fact it shows Siberian Vladimir Maksimov.

In view of all these facts, we have to admit that the story of Volodya Yakut is a completely fictitious legend. At the same time, it cannot be denied that in the Russian army there were - and are - similar snipers, and equally courageous people. Volodya Yakut embodies the collective image of all these fighters. Its prototypes are considered to be Vasily Zaitsev, Fyodor Okhlopkov and many other brave soldiers who fought in Chechnya.

Some details of the legend also raise doubts: why on earth did an 18-year-old boy refuse modern weapons in favor of the old rifle; how he was able to get to a meeting with General Rokhlin, etc. All these points point to the fact that the image of the Russian sniper has been mythologized. As an epic hero, he is credited supernatural abilities, unparalleled modesty and some kind of fantastic luck. Such heroes inspired Russian soldiers and instilled fear in the enemy.

Later, the legendary sniper became a hero of the series works of art. One of them is the story “I am a Russian Warrior,” published in the collection of Alexei Voronin in 1995. The legend is also spreading on the Internet in the form of all kinds of army fables told by “eyewitnesses”.

A sable hunter, an 18-year-old Yakut from a distant reindeer camp. It had to happen that I came to Yakutsk for salt and ammunition, and accidentally saw in the dining room on TV piles of corpses of Russian soldiers on the streets of Grozny, smoking tanks and some words about “Dudaev’s snipers.” This got into Volodya’s head, so much so that the hunter returned to the camp, took his earned money, and sold the little gold he had found. He took his grandfather’s rifle and all the cartridges, put the icon of St. Nicholas the Saint in his bosom and went to fight the Yakuts for the Russian cause.

It’s better not to remember how I was driving, how I sat in the bullpen three times, how many times my rifle was taken away. But, nevertheless, a month later the Yakut Volodya arrived in Grozny.

Volodya had only heard about one general who was regularly fighting in Chechnya, and he began to look for him in the February mudslide. Finally, the Yakut was lucky and reached the headquarters of General Rokhlin.
The only document besides his passport was a handwritten certificate from the military commissar stating that Vladimir Kolotov, a hunter by profession, was heading to war, signed by the military commissar. The piece of paper, which had become frayed on the road, had saved his life more than once.

Rokhlin, surprised that someone came to the war of his own free will, ordered the Yakut to be allowed to come to him.

Volodya, squinting at the dim lights blinking from the generator, why slanted eyes blurred even more, like a bear, he walked sideways into the basement of the old building, which temporarily housed the general’s headquarters.
- Excuse me, please, are you that General Rokhlya? - Volodya asked respectfully.
“Yes, I’m Rokhlin,” answered the tired general, who peered inquisitively at a short man dressed in a frayed padded jacket, with a backpack and a rifle on his back.
- Would you like some tea, hunter?
- Thank you, Comrade General. I haven't had a hot drink for three days. I won't refuse.
Volodya took his iron mug out of his backpack and handed it to the general. Rokhlin himself poured him tea to the brim.
- I was told that you came to the war on your own. For what purpose, Kolotov?
- I saw on TV how the Chechens were killing our people with snipers. I can't stand this, Comrade General. It's a shame, though. So I came to bring them down. You don't need money, you don't need anything. I, Comrade General Rokhlya, will go hunting at night myself. Let them show me the place where they will put the cartridges and food, and I will do the rest myself. If I get tired, I’ll come back in a week, sleep in the warmth for a day and go again. You don't need a walkie-talkie or anything like that... it's hard.

Surprised, Rokhlin nodded his head.
- Take, Volodya, at least a new SVDashka. Give him a rifle!
- No need, Comrade General, I’m going out into the field with my scythe. Just give me some ammo, I only have 30 left now...

So Volodya began his war, the sniper war.

The first person to remember Volodya at the headquarters meeting was the “interceptor” radio operator.
- Lev Yakovlevich, the “Czechs” are in panic on the radio. They say that the Russians, that is, we, have a certain black sniper who works at night, boldly walks through their territory and shamelessly cuts down their personnel. Maskhadov even put a price of 30 thousand dollars on his head. His handwriting is like this - this fellow hits Chechens right in the eye. Why only by sight - the dog knows him...

And then the staff remembered about the Yakut Volodya.
“He regularly takes food and ammunition from the cache,” the intelligence chief reported.
“And so we didn’t exchange a word with him, we didn’t even see him even once.” Well, how did he leave you on the other side...
One way or another, the report noted that our snipers also give their snipers a light. Because Volodin’s work gave such results - from 16 to 30 people were killed by the fisherman with a shot in the eye.

The Chechens realized that a Russian fisherman had appeared on Minutka Square. And since all the events of those terrible days took place in this square, a whole bunch of people came out to catch the sniper.
a detachment of Chechen volunteers.

Then, in February 1995, at Minutka, the “federals,” thanks to Rokhlin’s cunning plan, had already crushed Shamil Basayev’s “Abkhaz” battalion by almost three-quarters of its personnel. Volodya’s Yakut carbine also played a significant role here. Basayev promised a golden Chechen star to the one who brought the body of the Russian sniper. But the nights passed in unsuccessful searches. Five volunteers walked along the front line in search of Volodya’s “beds” and placed tripwires wherever he could appear in direct view of their positions. However, this was a time when groups from both sides broke through the enemy’s defenses and penetrated deeply into its territory. Sometimes it was so deep that there was no longer any chance to break out to our own people. But Volodya slept during the day under the roofs and in the basements of houses. The corpses of Chechens - the night "work" of a sniper - were buried the next day.

Then, tired of losing 20 people every night, Basayev called from the reserves in the mountains a master of his craft, a teacher from the camp for training young shooters, the Arab sniper Abubakar. Volodya and Abubakar could not help but meet in a night battle, such are the laws of sniper warfare.

The buildings on the opposite side of the square, or rather their ruins, merged into a single line in Volodya's optics. “What sparkled, the optics?” thought the hunter, and he knew cases when a sable saw a sight glinting in the sun and went away. The place he chose was located under the roof of a five-story residential building. Snipers always like to be on top so they can see everything. And he lay under the roof - under a sheet of old tin, the wet snow rain, which kept coming and then stopping, did not wet it.

Abubakar tracked down Volodya only on the fifth night - he tracked him down by his pants. The fact is that the Yakut had ordinary cotton pants. This is an American camouflage worn by the Chechens, impregnated with a special composition, in which the uniform was invisible in night vision devices, and the domestic one glowed with a bright light green light. So Abubakar “identified” the Yakut into the powerful night optics of his “Bur”, custom-made by English gunsmiths back in the 70s.

One bullet was enough, Volodya rolled out from under the roof and fell painfully with his back on the steps of the stairs. “The main thing is that I didn’t break the rifle,” thought the sniper.

Well, that means a duel, yes, Mr. Chechen sniper! - the Yakut said to himself mentally without emotion.

Volodya specifically stopped shredding the “Chechen order.” The neat row of 200s with his sniper “autograph” on the eye stopped. “Let them believe that I was killed,” Volodya decided.

All he did was look out for where the enemy sniper got to him from.

Two days later, already during the day, he found Abubakar’s “bed”. He also lay under the roof, under a half-bent roofing sheet on the other side of the square. Volodya would not have noticed him if the Arab sniper had not been betrayed by a bad habit - he was smoking marijuana. Once every two hours, Volodya caught in his optics a light bluish haze that rose above the roofing sheet and was immediately carried away by the wind.

“Okay, you smoke while lying down, but you’ll have to get up to go to the toilet,” Volodya decided calmly and began to wait.

For two more days Volodya looked out for the sniper, but he did not show up. Volodya had already decided that the enemy had left for good, when the next morning he suddenly saw that he had “opened up”. Three seconds of aiming with a slight exhalation, and the bullet hit the target. Abubakar was struck on the spot in the right eye. For some reason, against the impact of the bullet, he fell flat from the roof onto the street. A large, greasy stain of blood spread across the mud in the square of Dudayev’s palace, where an Arab sniper was killed on the spot by one hunter’s bullet.

And then he was surprised: the Chechens began to crawl out into the open to take the sniper’s body. Volodya took aim. Three people came out and bent over the body.

“Let them pick you up and carry you, then I’ll start shooting!” - Volodya triumphed.

The three Chechens actually lifted the body. Three shots were fired. Three bodies fell on top of the dead Abubakar.

Four more Chechen volunteers jumped out of the ruins and, throwing away the bodies of their comrades, tried to pull out the sniper. A Russian machine gun started working from the side, but the bursts fell a little higher, without causing harm to the hunched Chechens.

“Oh, mabuta infantry! You’re just wasting ammunition...” thought Volodya.

Four more shots sounded, almost merging into one. Four more corpses had already formed a pile.

A day later, Volodya returned to Rokhlin’s headquarters. The general immediately received him as a dear guest. The news of the duel between two snipers had already spread throughout the army.

Well, how are you, Volodya, tired? Do you want to go home?
Volodya warmed his hands at the stove.

That’s it, Comrade General, you’ve done your job, it’s time to go home. Spring work at the camp begins. The military commissar only released me for two months. My two younger brothers worked for me all this time. It's time to know...
Rokhlin nodded his head in understanding.

Take a good rifle, my chief of staff will fill out the paperwork...
- Why, I have my grandfather’s. - Volodya lovingly hugged the old carbine.

The general did not dare to ask the question for a long time. But curiosity got the better of me.
- How many enemies did you defeat, did you count? They say that more than a hundred... Chechens were talking to each other.
Volodya lowered his eyes.
- 362 people, Comrade General. Rokhlin, silently, patted the Yakut on the shoulder.
- Go home, we can handle it ourselves now...
- Comrade General, if anything happens, call me again, I’ll sort out the work and come a second time!
Volodya’s face showed frank concern for the entire Russian Army.
- By God, I’ll come!

He was sobered up in a nearby stream, but from then on Volodya no longer wore his Order of Courage in public.

18-year-old Yakut Volodya from a distant deer camp was a hunter - a sable hunter. It had to happen that I came to Yakutsk for salt and ammunition, and accidentally saw in the dining room on TV piles of corpses of Russian soldiers on the streets of Grozny, smoking tanks and some words about “Dudaev’s Snipers.” This got into Volodya’s head, so much so that the hunter returned to the camp, took his earned money, and sold the little gold he had found.

He took his grandfather’s rifle and all the cartridges, put the icon of Nicholas the Saint in his bosom and went to fight.

It’s better not to remember how I was driving, how I sat in the bullpen, how many times my rifle was taken away. But, nevertheless, a month later the Yakut Volodya arrived in Grozny.
Volodya had only heard about one general who was fighting regularly, and he began to look for him in the February thaw. Finally, the Yakut was lucky and reached the headquarters of General Rokhlin.

Rokhlin, surprised that someone came to the war of his own free will, ordered the Yakut to be allowed to come to him.
- Excuse me, please, are you that weakling general? - Volodya asked respectfully.
“Yes, I’m Rokhlin,” answered the tired general, who peered inquisitively at a short man dressed in a frayed padded jacket, with a backpack and a rifle on his back.
- I was told that you came to the war on your own. For what purpose, stabs?
“I saw on TV how terrorists were killing ours with snipers. I can't stand this, Comrade General. It's a shame, though. So I came to bring them down. You don't need money, you don't need anything. I, Comrade General Rokhlya, will go hunting at night myself. Let them show me the place where they will put the cartridges and food, and I will do the rest myself. If I get tired, I’ll come back in a week, sleep in the warmth for a day and go again. You don’t need a walkie-talkie or anything like that... it’s hard.

Surprised, Rokhlin nodded his head.
- Take, Volodya, at least a new stamp. Give him a rifle!
- No need, Comrade General, I’m going out into the field with my scythe. Just give me some ammunition, I only have 30 left now...

So Volodya began his war, the sniper war.

He slept for a day in the headquarters cabins, despite the mine shelling and terrible artillery fire. I took ammunition, food, water and went on the first “Hunt”. They forgot about him at headquarters. Only reconnaissance regularly brought cartridges, food and, most importantly, water to the appointed place every three days. Each time I was convinced that the parcel had disappeared.

The first person to remember Volodya at the headquarters meeting was the “interceptor” radio operator.
- Lev Yakovlevich, the enemy is panicking on the radio. They say that we have a certain black sniper who works at night, boldly walks through their territory and shamelessly cuts down their personnel. Maskhadov even put a price of 30 thousand dollars on his head. His handwriting is like this - this fellow hits bandits right in the eye. Why, attention, only by sight - the dog knows him....

The terrorists realized that the federals had a hunter in the square for a moment. And since the main events of those terrible days took place in this square, a whole detachment of volunteers came out to catch the sniper.

Then, in February 1995, in a minute, thanks to Rokhlin’s cunning plan, our troops had already reduced almost three-quarters of the so-called personnel. "Abkhazian" battalion of Shamil Basayev. Volodya’s Yakut carbine also played a significant role here. Basayev promised a golden Chechen star to anyone who brought the body of a Russian sniper. But the nights passed in unsuccessful searches. Five volunteers walked along the front line in search of Volodya’s “Beds”, placing tripwires wherever he could appear in direct visibility of their positions. However, this was a time when groups from both sides broke through the enemy’s defenses and penetrated deeply into its territory. Sometimes it was so deep that there was no longer any chance to break out to our own people. But Volodya slept during the day under the roofs and in the basements of houses. The corpses of the terrorists - the sniper's night "Work" - were buried the next day.

Then, tired of losing 20 people every night, Basayev called from the reserves in the mountains a master of his craft, a teacher from a camp for training young shooters, and a sniper - Arab Abubakar. Volodya and Abubakar could not help but meet in a night battle, such are the laws of sniper warfare.

The buildings on the opposite side of the square, or rather their ruins, merged into a single line in Volodya's optics. “What flashed, the optics?” the hunter thought, and he knew cases when a sable saw a sight flashing in the sun and went away. The place he chose was located under the roof of a five-story residential building. Snipers always like to be on top so they can see everything. And he lay under the roof - under a sheet of old tin, the wet snow rain, which kept coming and then stopping, did not wet it.

Abubakar tracked down Volodya only on the fifth night - he tracked him down by his pants. The fact is that the Yakut had ordinary cotton pants. This is an American camouflage, which was often worn by terrorists, impregnated with a special composition, in which the uniform was indistinctly visible in night vision devices, and the domestic uniform glowed with a bright light green light. So Abubakar “figured out” the Yakut through the powerful night optics of his “drill,” custom-made by English gunsmiths back in the 70s.

One bullet was enough, Volodya rolled out from under the roof and fell painfully with his back on the steps of the stairs. “The main thing is that I didn’t break the rifle,” thought the sniper.
- Well, that means a duel, yes, Mr. Sniper! - The Yakut said to himself mentally without emotion.

Volodya specifically stopped cutting up terrorists. The neat row of 200s with his sniper "Autograph" on the eye stopped. “Let them believe that I was killed,” Volodya decided.

All he did was look out for where the enemy sniper got to him from.
Two days later, already in the afternoon, he found Abubakar’s “Bed”. He also lay under the roof, under a half-bent roofing sheet on the other side of the square. Volodya would not have noticed him if the Arab sniper had not been betrayed by a bad habit - he was smoking marijuana. Once every two hours, Volodya caught a light bluish haze through his optics, rising above the roofing sheet and immediately being carried away by the wind.

“So I found you! You can’t live without drugs! Well...” the Yakut hunter thought triumphantly; he did not know that he was dealing with an Arab sniper who had passed through both Abkhazia and Karabakh. But Volodya did not want to kill him just like that, by shooting through the roofing sheet. This was not the case with snipers, and even less so with fur hunters.
“Okay, you smoke while lying down, but you’ll have to get up to go to the toilet,” Volodya decided calmly and began to wait.

Only three days later did he figure out that Abubakar was crawling out from under the leaf to the right side, and not to the left, quickly did the job and returned to the “Lezhanka”. In order to “get” the enemy, Volodya had to change his position at night. He couldn't do anything anew, because any new roofing sheet would immediately give away his new location. But Volodya found two fallen logs from the rafters with a piece of tin a little to the right, about fifty meters from his point. The place was excellent for shooting, but very inconvenient for “Lezhanka”. For two more days Volodya looked out for the sniper, but he did not show up. Volodya had already decided that the enemy had left for good, when the next morning he suddenly saw that he had “Opened”. Three seconds of aiming with a slight exhalation, and the bullet hit the target. Abubakar was struck on the spot in the right eye. For some reason, against the impact of the bullet, he fell flat from the roof onto the street. A large, greasy stain of blood spread across the mud in the square of Dudayev’s palace, where an Arab sniper was killed on the spot by one hunter’s bullet.

And then he was surprised: the militants began to crawl out into the open to take the sniper’s body. Volodya took aim. Three people came out and bent over the body.
“Let them pick you up and carry you, then I’ll start shooting!” - Volodya triumphed.

The three of the militants actually lifted the body. Three shots were fired. Three bodies fell on top of the dead Abubakar.

Four more militants jumped out of the ruins and, throwing away the bodies of their comrades, tried to pull out the sniper. A Russian machine gun started working from the side, but the bursts fell a little higher, without causing harm to the hunched over bandits.

Four more shots rang out, almost merging into one. Four more corpses had already formed a pile.

A day later, Volodya returned to Rokhlin’s headquarters. The general immediately received him as a dear guest. The news of the duel between two snipers had already spread throughout the army.
- Well, how are you, Volodya, tired? Do you want to go home?

Volodya warmed his hands at the potbelly stove.
- That’s it, Comrade General, I’ve done my job, it’s time to go home. Spring work at the camp begins. The military commissar only released me for two months. My two younger brothers worked for me all this time. It's time and honor... to know.

Rokhlin nodded his head in understanding.
- Take a good rifle, my chief of staff will draw up the documents...
- Why, I have my grandfather’s. - Volodya lovingly hugged the old carbine.

The general did not dare to ask the question for a long time. But curiosity took over.
- How many enemies did you defeat, did you count? They say more than a hundred... militants were talking...

Volodya lowered his eyes.
- 362 militants, Comrade General.
- Well, go home, we can handle it ourselves now...
- Comrade General, if anything happens, call me again, I’ll sort out the work and come a second time!

Volodya’s face showed frank concern for the entire Russian army.
- By God, I’ll come!

Volodya's real name is a Yakut - Vladimir Maksimovich Kolotov, originally from the village of Iengra in Yakutia. However, he himself is not a Yakut, but an Evenk.

At the end of the first campaign, he was patched up in the hospital, and since he was officially a nobody and there was no way to call him, he simply went home.

By the way, his combat score is most likely not exaggerated, but understated... especially since no one kept an accurate account, and the sniper himself did not particularly brag about it.

After Vladimir Kolotov left for his homeland, the scum in officer's uniform sold his information to the terrorists, who he was, where he was from, where he went, etc. The Yakut sniper inflicted too many losses on the evil spirits. Vladimir was killed by a shot from a 9 mm pistol in his yard, while he was chopping wood. The criminal case was never solved..."

Grozny during the First Chechen War (in the background is the Presidential Palace)

Volodya-Yakut - fictional Russian sniper, the hero of the urban legend of the same name about the First Chechen War, who became famous for his high performance. The alleged real name is Vladimir Maksimovich Kolotov, although in the legend he is called Volodya. By profession, he is a commercial hunter from Yakutia (Yakut or Evenk by nationality, known under the call sign “Yakut”).

According to legend, 18-year-old Vladimir Kolotov arrived at the beginning of the war in Chechnya to meet General L.Ya. Rokhlin and expressed his desire to go to Chechnya as a volunteer, providing a passport and a certificate from the military registration and enlistment office. As a weapon, Vladimir chose an old Mosin rifle with optical sight from the German Mauser 98k, abandoning the more powerful SVD and asking the soldiers to only regularly leave him ammunition, food supplies and water in a cache. From subsequent radio intercepts, Russian radio operators learned that Kolotov was operating in Grozny on Minutka Square, killing from 16 to 30 people per day, and all of the dead had fatal hits to the eye. Shamil Basayev promised to award the Order of the ChRI to the one who kills Kolotov, and Aslan Maskhadov also offered monetary reward. However, the volunteers, despite searching for the sniper, died from his shots: thus, Kolotov was credited with the liquidation of almost the entire personnel of Basayev’s “Abkhaz battalion”.

Soon, Basayev called for help from the training camp of the Arab mercenary Abubakar, a rifle instructor who participated in the Georgian-Abkhaz and Karabakh wars. During one of the night skirmishes, Abubakar, armed with a British Lee-Enfield rifle, wounded Kolotov in the arm, having tracked him down in a night vision device (allegedly Russian camouflage was visible in the NVG, but the Chechen one was not, because the Chechens impregnated it with some kind of secret compound). The wounded Kolotov decided to mislead the Chechens about his death and stop shooting the militants, simultaneously starting a search for Abubakar. A week later, Vladimir destroyed Abubakar near the Presidential Palace of Grozny and then killed 16 more people who were trying to take away the Arab’s body and bury him before sunset. The next day he returned to headquarters and reported to Rokhlin that he had to return home on time (the military commissar only released him for two months). In a conversation with Rokhlin, Kolotov mentioned 362 militants he killed. Six months after returning to his homeland in Yakutia, Kolotov was awarded the Order of Courage.

According to the “official” version, the legend ends with a mention of the message about the murder of Rokhlin and the subsequent binge of Kolotov, from which he hardly emerged, even temporarily losing his mind, but since then he has refused to wear the Order of Courage. There are also two other endings: according to one version, Kolotov was killed in 2000 by an unknown person (probably a former Chechen militant) to whom someone sold Kolotov’s personal information; according to another, he remained to work as a hunter-commercial and allegedly received a meeting with the President of the Russian Federation D.A. Medvedev in 2009.

The story entitled “Volodya the Sniper” was published in the collection of stories “I am a Russian Warrior” by Alexei Voronin in March 1995, and in September 2011 it was published in the newspaper “ Orthodox cross" The urban legend was popular in the 1990s among the military and took its place in the list of “horror stories” and other works of army folklore, but it began to actively spread on the Internet in 2011 and 2012, continuing to be published in subsequent years on various sites.

The fact of the existence of Vladimir Kolotov, who actually fought in Chechnya (as well as the existence of the Arab mercenary Abubakar) is not confirmed by any sources (including photographs depicting, at best, historical reenactors), and no documents have been found on Kolotov’s awarding the Order of Courage . There are photographs on the Internet described as a fragment of a meeting between Vladimir Kolotov and Russian President Dmitry Medvedev in 2009, but such photographs depict a resident of Yakutia, Vladimir Maksimov; Another photograph shows a representative of one of the peoples of Siberia holding SVD rifle, which turned out to be not Vladimir Kolotov, but a certain “Batokha from Buryatia, from the 21st Sofrinsky brigade”

Brief summary of the series “Sniper 2: Tungus”:

The military action film “Sniper 2: Tungus (mini-series)” takes place in 1943. The Soviet sabotage group faces a responsible task - to capture important documents. To do this, scouts are sent behind enemy lines. Cover for them is provided by a group of female snipers, led by former hunter Mikhail Kononov, nicknamed Tungus. While carrying out the operation, the scouts stumbled upon an enemy ambush and were destroyed, and the snipers were captured. The Nazis release the girls and organize a real hunt in their tracks. They do not know that at this time the marksman Tungus begins to hunt them.

Today the story will be about the famous knife of the northern peoples of the Sakha Republic.

Yakut knife

The history of the Yakut knife is hidden in the darkness of centuries; there is no written or any significant evidence of the emergence of this interesting and original tool. No explanation has been preserved why its shape is not similar to the shape of similar knives or tools of other peoples.

Archaeological excavations carried out on the territory of modern Yakutia show that samples of knives recovered from early burial grounds and sites ancient man have an undoubted resemblance to Yakut knives. This is truly an ancient knife.

What was this Northern knife like?

And it was completely different due to its wide functionality. Yakutsk knives have a very wide range of sizes - from the smallest to the very large. According to the style of production and application, they are divided into 12 varieties. If you do not dive into all the subtleties of these forms, then you can conditionally divide the Yakuts into 3 categories:

Bykhycha is a small knife with a blade length of 8 to 11 cm; such a knife is made for children and women. However, there are a number of tasks that are easier to solve with a knife with a small blade, so it can conditionally be classified as a household one.

The next category is Bychakh - the most common universal knife, with a blade length from 11 to 17 cm.

In the third category is Yakut called Khotonokh - this guy has a blade length above 17 cm, which makes him a combat weapon. Such things are made quite rarely now because in our time it is difficult for them to find use.

In the classification of the Yakut knife, the width of the blade also plays a role.

If it is narrow, then it is classified as a tundra knife. This makes it easier to cut something or make a hole in something, which is primarily necessary in tundra conditions.

A knife with a wider blade is called Taiga. This Yakut is intended for cutting trophies or livestock, as well as for processing wood.

According to long-standing traditions, installation of Yakut is done like this:

The blade's shank is set into a birch suveli handle and firmly secured using two wooden wedges without the use of any sealants. And additionally, a tie is made of oxtail on the knife, which, when the additional one dries, tightens the handle. The scabbard is made of wood like the handle and is also covered with oxtail.

By the way, traditionally the sheath is worn on the belt in front, and the blade is placed in it with the cutting edge up.

Another interesting thing is that just a few years ago in Yakutsk, few people were interested in knives, and even among sophisticated knife lovers they were not particularly popular. But at one point, about the same thing happened to them as with spinners - everyone started talking about them.

Okay, everything was a little different)

Over time, these knives began to gain popularity very, very quickly, and today more and more craftsmen are devoting almost all their efforts to the production of just such Yakut knives. About the same thing happened with the NKVD Finns

But nevertheless, let's figure out why this rather strange Yakut knife is so good.

Yes, it’s just the knife that was invented at one time northern peoples. And for them it became the main tool of survival; this knife was used for fishing, hunting and in general as a tool for working with wood and for any household tasks. We can say that this is a Yakut vision utility knife for bushcraft.

True, at that time such words, of course, did not yet exist.

In general, Yakut is an everyday hard worker

The most interesting and unusual thing about this knife is, of course, the blade - it is asymmetrical, the spine is straight and even, and the blade is sharp. But the Yakut knife is sharpened only on one side.

And here there are some disagreements - as various Internet sources say, the knife is sharpened from the lens side, but the craftsmen who make Yakuts in accordance with ancient traditions explain that it is necessary to sharpen from the fuller side.

First of all, it's much easier. And secondly, if you sharpen the sides of the lens, the sharpening will eventually reach the notch in the blade and the knife will no longer be entirely functional.

In any case, the Yakut could easily sharpen itself with any pebble in field conditions - this was undoubtedly a fundamental factor.

On the right side there is a dol.

For left-handed people they made a knife with a fuller on the other side.

It can have a wide variety of shapes; some craftsmen prefer a notch that covers almost the entire area of the blade, leaving a small edge near the butt. And some limit themselves to a small groove that is shifted closer to the handle, this Notch is called Yos.

It is not known for certain why it was made and there are many disputes and hypotheses

According to one version, this knife was inherited from its ancestors made of bone. In a bone cut in half, the filler remained from the bone marrow and was present on all knives made according to this principle.

According to another version, such a dol appeared as a result of the old forging technique used by the northern peoples.

According to the third version, such a debt made it possible to significantly save metal of which there was not so much. And many more versions.

But main feature This knife is that, having a one-sided sharpening, it is incredibly good at planing wood, making planing, skinning animals and other everyday tasks of that time.

And what’s most interesting is that this is perhaps the first knife in which the dol actually served as a blood flow

When cutting a carcass, due to the large fuller, the contact of the knife with the meat was minimal, which made it possible to work much faster, and the blood falling on the knife flowed down the fuller. How true this is is unknown, but they say that this is exactly what happened.

Among other things, the gutter significantly reduces the weight of the knife, and this was achieved so that a knife that fell into the water would not sink to the bottom

Still, the knife was a very valuable item at that time, which was used for survival every day and I really didn’t want to lose it.

In conclusion, it can be noted that in Yakut families, a child at the age of 5 received his first knife and the mother was not afraid that the child might get hurt. After all, a small wound and a little blood taught the child to be careful and careful, and therefore rational. And the first knife was made specifically for a child’s hand.

This is the real story

Video Forgotten hero, Volodya Yakut black sniper the Chechen thunderstorm

Since leaving for the sniper position, no news has been received from Vladimir Kolotov to the location of the Russian army. Thanks to the efforts of the scouts, he was regularly replenished with food and ammunition, but no one caught sight of him. They even managed to forget about the strange guy from the Yakut village.

News about Volodya came not from himself, but from the enemy. Some time later, thanks to intercepted negotiations at the Russian headquarters, it became known that the militants were in commotion. For the Chechens in the Minutka Square area, their quiet life is over. Now the night time has turned into absolute hell. It was after this that the Russian military remembered the Evenk hunter. It was Vladimir Kolotov who caused the panic of the Chechens. The sniper was distinguished by his special handwriting - he shot in the eye. Reports of the deaths of militants were received on a constant basis; on average, about 15-30 people died at the hands of a young hunter from a Yakut village every night.

In an effort to eliminate a dangerous sniper, management Chechen militants promised its fighters a lot of money and high rewards. So, at Maskhadov’s headquarters they gave 30,000 dollars for Volodya’s head. Shamil Basayev, in turn, promised to give a gold star to the one who was lucky enough to kill a marksman. This was due to the fact that the strength of the battalion of one of the leaders of the Chechen militants, Vladimir Maksimovich Kolotov, was significantly reduced. The sniper caused enormous damage to manpower every night. An entire detachment was sent to neutralize the Evenk hunter, but their efforts were unsuccessful.

FORGOTTEN SNIPER. VOLODYA-YAKUT.

It’s better not to remember how I was driving, how I sat in the bullpen, how many times my rifle was taken away. But, nevertheless, a month later the Yakut Volodya arrived in Grozny.

Rokhlin, surprised that someone came to the war of his own free will, ordered the Yakut to be allowed to come to him.

Excuse me, please, are you that General Rokhlya? - Volodya asked respectfully.

Yes, I’m Rokhlin,” answered the tired general, who peered inquisitively at the short man, dressed in a frayed padded jacket, with a backpack and a rifle on his back.

I was told that you came to the war on your own. For what purpose, Kolotov?

I saw on TV how the Chechens were killing our people with snipers. I can't stand this, Comrade General. It's a shame, though. So I came to bring them down. You don't need money, you don't need anything. I, Comrade General Rokhlya, will go hunting at night myself. Let them show me the place where they will put the cartridges and food, and I will do the rest myself. If I get tired, I’ll come back in a week, sleep in the warmth for a day and go again. You don't need a walkie-talkie or anything like that... it's hard.

Surprised, Rokhlin nodded his head.

Take, Volodya, at least a new SVDashka. Give him a rifle!

No need, Comrade General, I’m going out into the field with my scythe. Just give me some ammo, I only have 30 left now...

So Volodya began his war, the sniper war.

The first person to remember Volodya at the headquarters meeting was the “interceptor” radio operator.

Lev Yakovlevich, the “Czechs” are in panic on the radio. They say that the Russians, that is, we, have a certain black sniper who works at night, boldly walks through their territory and shamelessly cuts down their personnel. Maskhadov even put a price of 30 thousand dollars on his head. His handwriting is like this - this fellow hits Chechens right in the eye. Why only by sight - the dog knows him...

And then the staff remembered about the Yakut Volodya.

He regularly takes food and ammunition from the cache,” the intelligence chief reported.

And so we didn’t exchange a word with him, we didn’t even see him even once. Well, how did he leave you on the other side...

The Chechens figured out that the federals had a commercial hunter on Minutka Square. And since the main events of those terrible days took place in this square, a whole detachment of Chechen volunteers came out to catch the sniper.

The buildings on the opposite side of the square, or rather their ruins, merged into a single line in Volodya's optics. “What flashed, the optics?” thought the hunter, and he knew cases when a sable saw a sight glinting in the sun and went away. The place he chose was located under the roof of a five-story residential building. Snipers always like to be on top so they can see everything. And he lay under the roof - under a sheet of old tin, the wet snow rain, which kept coming and then stopping, did not wet it.

Abubakar tracked down Volodya only on the fifth night - he tracked him down by his pants. The fact is that the Yakut had ordinary cotton pants. This is an American camouflage, which was often worn by Chechens, impregnated with a special composition, in which the uniform was indistinctly visible in night vision devices, and the domestic uniform glowed with a bright light green light. So Abubakar “identified” the Yakut into the powerful night optics of his “Bur”, custom-made by English gunsmiths back in the 70s.

One bullet was enough, Volodya rolled out from under the roof and fell painfully with his back on the steps of the stairs. “The main thing is that I didn’t break the rifle,” thought the sniper.

Well, that means a duel, yes, Mr. Chechen sniper! - the Yakut said to himself mentally without emotion.

Volodya specifically stopped shredding the “Chechen order.” The neat row of 200s with his sniper “autograph” on the eye stopped. “Let them believe that I was killed,” Volodya decided.

All he did was look out for where the enemy sniper got to him from.

Two days later, already in the afternoon, he found Abubakar’s “bed”. He also lay under the roof, under a half-bent roofing sheet on the other side of the square. Volodya would not have noticed him if the Arab sniper had not been betrayed by a bad habit - he was smoking marijuana. Once every two hours, Volodya caught a light bluish haze through his optics, rising above the roofing sheet and immediately being carried away by the wind.

“Okay, you smoke while lying down, but you’ll have to get up to go to the toilet,” Volodya decided calmly and began to wait.

And then he was surprised: the Chechens began to crawl out into the open to take the sniper’s body. Volodya took aim. Three people came out and bent over the body.

“Let them pick you up and carry you, then I’ll start shooting!” - Volodya triumphed.

The three of the Chechens actually lifted the body. Three shots were fired. Three bodies fell on top of the dead Abubakar.

Four more shots rang out, almost merging into one. Four more corpses had already formed a pile.

A day later, Volodya returned to Rokhlin’s headquarters. The general immediately received him as a dear guest. The news of the duel between two snipers had already spread throughout the army.

Well, how are you, Volodya, tired? Do you want to go home?

Volodya warmed his hands at the stove.

Rokhlin nodded his head in understanding.

Take a good rifle, my chief of staff will fill out the paperwork...

Why, I have my grandfather’s. - Volodya lovingly hugged the old carbine.

The general did not dare to ask the question for a long time. But curiosity got the better of me.

How many enemies did you defeat, did you count? They say that more than a hundred... Chechens were talking to each other.

Volodya lowered his eyes.

362 militants, Comrade General.

Well, go home, we can handle it ourselves now...

Comrade General, if anything happens, call me again, I’ll sort out the work and come a second time!

Volodya’s face showed frank concern for the entire Russian Army.

By God, I'll come!

It’s okay, Comrade General Rokhlya, if necessary we will come, just tell me...

After Vladimir Kolotov left for his homeland, scum in officer uniform sold his information to Chechen terrorists, who he was, where he came from, where he went, etc. The Yakut Sniper inflicted too many losses on the evil spirits.

Vladimir was killed by a shot from 9 mm. pistol in his yard while he was chopping wood. The criminal case was never solved.

Later, in 2003-2004, one of my friends and comrades told me that he personally knew this guy, and that indeed HE WAS. Whether there was that same duel with Abubakar, and whether the Czechs actually had such a super sniper, to be honest, I don’t know, they had enough serious snipers, and especially in the First Campaign. And there were serious weapons, including South African SSVs, and cereals (including prototypes of the B-94, which were just entering pre-series, the spirits already had, and with numbers in the first hundred - Pakhomych will not let you lie.

How they ended up with them is a separate story, but nevertheless, the Czechs had such trunks. And they themselves made semi-handicraft SCVs near Grozny.)

The real name of Volodya-Yakut is Vladimir Maksimovich Kolotov, originally from the village of Iengra in Yakutia. However, he himself is not a Yakut, but an Evenk.

At the end of the First Campaign, he was patched up in the hospital, and since he was officially a nobody and there was no way to call him, he simply went home.

By the way, his combat score is most likely not exaggerated, but understated... Moreover, no one kept an accurate account, and the sniper himself did not particularly brag about it.

Happy New Year to you!

Volodya Yakut is alive. The story of the Russian sniper - Yakut Volodya - in the first Chechen war

Rokhlin, Lev Yakovlevich

Murder of a General

Legend Details

Real facts

Brief summary of the series “Sniper 2: Tungus”:

Yakut knife

What was this Northern knife like?

In the classification of the Yakut knife, the width of the blade also plays a role.

But nevertheless, let's figure out why this rather strange Yakut knife is so good.

In general, Yakut is an everyday hard worker

First of all, it's much easier. And secondly, if you sharpen the sides of the lens, the sharpening will eventually reach the notch in the blade and the knife will no longer be entirely functional.

It is not known for certain why it was made and there are many disputes and hypotheses

And what’s most interesting is that this is perhaps the first knife in which the dol actually served as a blood flow

This is the real story

Video Forgotten hero, Volodya Yakut black sniper the Chechen thunderstorm

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