Clean Thursday 2003    star_border 5
Not far from Grozny, on an alternate railroad track, there is an old steam locomotive with several wagons attached to it. The steam engine gives steam — hot water is in the boilers, and a bathhouse is equipped in the cars, where soldiers and officers wash, laundry is washed ... A washing on wheels — at the same time a soldier’s bivouac, a piece of peaceful life, and the beginning of a new road. To this locomotive, these cars come - platooned, in batches and one at a time - tired, tired, unshaven, angry Russian guys. They scrape dirt off themselves. Soak from stubborn soot, warm with souls. They put on clean underwear. They drink vodka. They smoke. They talk about love, remember loved ones and native places. Cry. They sing. And around - the landscape after the battle. It's not over yet ... An accidental explosion. Stray bullet. And our guys washed into the unknown. Clean. Hoping to survive.