After Orlov’s “introduction,” I thought: “God, whoever gets drafted into the army needs to hug and cry.” The boy lived to be eighteen years old, and his head was empty, like a birdhouse in winter. He had not yet had time to understand or realize anything, but at the military registration and enlistment office they took him under the white hands and threw him onto the Dragon Tooth Mountain. Now he is dirty, hungry and tormented by constant thirst, walks for water along the Dushman mines and is shot at every day by the Dushman DShK, and when he descends from the Dragon’s Tooth, the Uzbeks will kick him again.