Tarina skiltistä, juttu on todella pitkä joten en sitä kokonaisuudessaan tänne laita.
Käydään erinlaisia tarinoita aina tappamisesta henkiseen jaksamiseen sekä kuinka sklit tajusi että natsi aate ei ollutkaan se paras.
KYIV, Ukraine—This was supposed to be a routine reconnaissance mission, but suddenly it became complicated.
They had been crawling in the woods to stay concealed when the jeep with four separatists inside pulled up and parked along the road a few hundred meters away. They had two options: Start running, or the other thing.
Mikael Skillt laid a reassuring hand on his Smith & Wesson knife.
They would wait until dark.
Skillt was unusually anxious. Normally before combat he went into what he called “work mode,” shutting off all unnecessary thoughts and emotions. He felt that way now too, behind separatist lines in Ilovaisk in eastern Ukraine.
But he also could feel his heart pumping, which was unfamiliar.
Skillt, a Swede, had killed many men in combat, yet this time would be different. Typically he saw the enemy through a riflescope. His enemy’s death was registered by the faster-than-gravity way that dead men fall to the earth.
And, in Skillt’s experience, a balaclava normally concealed the enemy’s face. Not that he looked at the faces. That’s what they teach you in sniper school: Never look at the faces.
When night fell, it was time. The separatists remained parked at the same spot. They had rolled down the windows of the jeep and had been smoking and drinking vodka for a while. They were probably drunk, Skillt thought.
Creeping up to the vehicle, Skillt took the driver’s side. His friend, another Swede who had joined the Azov Battalion to fight for Ukraine, took the passenger’s side.
The man in the driver’s seat was asleep and hanging halfway out the window. Skillt put the knife in and pulled it out.
The doomed man made a few gurgling sounds and looked at Skillt in terror. He flailed his arms a little bit, but didn’t put up much of a fight. He was gone in 15 or 20 seconds.
On the passenger side of the jeep, Skillt’s friend did his job.
The back door on the driver’s side opened and a man spilt out. He tried to run, but slipped. Skillt lunged. He was a little nervous and slipped too, but he found his mark. He stabbed the man in the eye, breaking off the knife’s blade in the act.
Skillt noticed the copper smell of blood.
‘The myth is more exciting than reality,’ Skillt says. (Photo courtesy Mikael Skillt)
He and his friend dragged the bodies into the woods and took up positions to hide. The next morning, another car pulled up. The men inside got out, looked at the tableau of the jeep, which was swimming in blood, then fled.
“There are times when I can hear that nasty sound,” Skillt, 38, says in his Swedish accent, almost a year later.
“The blood going down the windpipe. It’s a very nasty sound,” he says. “Sometimes when I go to sleep, I can hear the sound and smell the blood. If there’s one thing I wish I could be without, it would be that.”
http://dailysignal.com/2015/08/10/m...kesman-who-now-fights-for-freedom-in-ukraine/