#desertion

[diana-andraste]

Landscape with Lanterns, Paul Delvaux, 1958

Oil on canvas

[quotespile]

I think in time we’ll come to see what we’re doing in places like these less heroically... I think we’ll come to see ourselves less charmingly. I think in time we’ll come to be ashamed of some of the things we have done.

Abdulrazak Gurnah, Desertion

[argyrocratie]

"Catastrophe for somebody, salvation for others. Desertion is flooding Ukraine" by assembly.org.ua

"Imagine: the rulers start a war, and no one goes to it!"

Donations to support the authors are possible at this link. Many thanks everyone for such a great contribution!

(...)

The article "In the long hot summer, Ukrainian and Russian soldiers broke records for the growth of desertions", which was published by us on the first day of autumn, turned out to be just in time. (It is available in Russian, in English, in Spanish, in Italian.) A number of feedbacks came from both sides of the front. From discussions in local chats of Kharkov:

"I have a small observation, several busified ones, who haven’t been very critical of the authorities all this time, now quite console themselves with the thought that those at the top know better. While you are "free", your thoughts are within the framework of social currents and have the opportunity to wag. As soon as you get into a collective with outlined tasks, in most cases, your thoughts are in the same tunnel as everyone else. A busified, getting into a collective of previously busified, but already resigned to the situation, mentally assimilates with them, accepts their point of view, creating a comfort zone (swimming against the current is always uncomfortable). There he’s drawn into the topic and also begins to think that everyone else is a scoundrel and an evader, motivation appears. Until he gets into slaughter. There comes awareness and often SOCh [desertion]."

-

"I have three – a godfather and two deceased acquaintances who went voluntarily from the first days, but when they came to Kharkov, we drank together, no one shouted that I’m an evader, but on the contrary, that there’s nothing to do there. One, a volunteer too, is already abroad. He went for 2 weeks and has been there for half a year already. He said that just to take a rest..."

-

"A guy worked nearby, and he had a dog. So he dressed it up in a camouflage vest, a yellow and blue leash. And he himself walked around with all sorts of patriotic bracelets and tridents on his backpack. On the way to work, he was accepted by the TCR and he went to training. Then I see after 2-3 months he is hobbling. I thought he was drunk, but everything turned out to be much more interesting. After training, they were taken in tarpaulin trucks somewhere to the front line. And right when unloading the personnel, they got hit with something cassette-like. So, he wasn't drunk, his legs were cut up by shrapnel, and they hadn't pulled out all the shrapnel from the body yet. They sent him home from the hospital to finish his treatment, but didn’t write him off due to his wounds. And the guy said during conversation that he f*cked all this, he was going to go into SZCh. That's how quickly his surge of patriotism passed."

On September 9, we received a letter from Gorlovka, controlled by the far-right "Donetsk People’s Republic" since 2014:

"The saddest thing is that if you start telling people that soldiers need to desert the army and turn their weapons against those in power, people will widen their eyes and say, "Do you want 1917 to happen again? For brother against brother again, and for people to swell with hunger? It's better if we endure, otherwise it will get worse." We have photos of those wanted for escape on our streets. And the inscriptions: "Betrayed the republic, betrayed comrades, betrayed himself." I’ve heard the opinion that we have a lot of SOCh. But "a lot of" is a flexible concept. And their captures aren’t published here."

We will not cite the name of the person who spoke out.

(...)

Alas, after the end of the Vietnam War, such a type of anti-war activist as a military serviceman engaged in agitation and propaganda among his colleagues was practically forgotten. This is exactly what a Russian leftist who introduces himself as Sergey Thälmann wrote to us about on September 2. In addition to other important inside information, his letter helps us understand why there was no widespread desertion among Russian conscripts in the Kursk region, despite the fact that this seems to be the most logical choice for those poorly prepared for battle:

"I’m a conscript, there was no distinct choice. I actively educate soldiers and explain the injustice of the conflict. Of course, I’m not very fond of anarchism, but I believe that there’s no way without anarchists. Anarchism is the heart of communism, and Marxism is its mind.

I’ll say right away that there’s a strange atmosphere among conscripts – for some reason everyone wants to see the war. And when you start explaining that war is not a shooter, not a computer game, their desire immediately disappears. However, there are even such young people who defend Russian capital. They speak in the paradigm of "friends – foes" about Ukrainians and Russians. This is truly frightening. Many sign the contract, but... Taking into account both material and superstructural values. That is, with the desire to see the war. Consumer society has washed away the human brain so much that 19-year-old guys in Balashikha [near Moscow, – Ed.] want to go to Kursk. And it seems to me that such an atmosphere is not only here.

Well, and interesting observations: many officers are outright Nazis. For example, I talked to the communications chief of the mortar division of the 4th regiment. And he told me that I need to read... German thinkers of the 1930s. And there are hundreds of such ones here. Although there are adequate people... On the faces of the mobilized you can see more fear, despair. I talked to so many mobics here – not a single one wanted to fight. Some worked in a plant, some as an electrician. But conscripts are the opposite. Maybe because many are from the provinces, where life is boring and there are few bright emotions. Or maybe because in a consumer society, the consumer can consume absolutely any product provided. Even war becomes a commodity for sale.

In the companies there is also such a concept – military-political information. There they say absolutely terrible things. About how Ukraine almost burns people alive, and almost exclusively hits peaceful cities, ignoring military objects. As if the AFU isn’t an army, but... some small bandit who shoots at everything in sight. The main thing is that they hush up how in Russia, too, they pack people and forcibly send to war.

What can we get here, two concentrated capitals clashed with each other. Their most loyal dogs came out of their kennels)) Ukrainian capital is just as chauvinistic and concentrated in the form of financial capital as Russian. No government can be defended, they are both criminal, both thieves. And war is a war of slave owners for the strengthening and reinforcement of slavery. To support one of the slave owners in it means to be against the oppressed, that is, against the slaves. Against the serfs. Against the proletarians.

By the way, to those who say that Ukraine is a victim. Supporting a young and inexperienced robber in a fight with an old and fat one is supporting robbery as such and further robbery of one of them."

...

[sanngart]

After an extended hiatus, a new chapter of Desertion is about to begin! Hope you like Dungeons, we're gonna be in this one for a while!

Rollout will probably start out slow until I am sure I can finish 1 page per week.

Comic: https://pokemondesertion.the-comic.org/

[litsnaps]

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

Still breathing

Summary: Mansk survives the sinking boat.

He felt cold, heavy. His chest rose and fell so slowly you wouldn't have known he was still breathing. Each labored pull felt like rough grit was filling his lungs. Mansk couldn't see, unsure if his eyelids were even open. He felt so heavy, a pressure pressing down on every cell.

Where was he? The ground was cold, hard... metal? It was metal he thought. The boat? Yeah he'd been on the boat. They'd caught those kids and then it was dark and...

He couldn't remember. Just flashes of gun fire. Had he seen the others? The humans he fought beside had gone down. Then it was him and the enemy. Did he fall? Yes. He remembered falling and hitting the ground. The pain had been so intense but then the fog rolled in. A numbness had overtaken him, cool waves of it washing down his limbs, tingling in the farthest nerves.

The ground was warm now. A warmth that rushed over his body, pushing him with it. He was falling again, gently this time. Floating along with this gentle heat, letting it take him with it.

His body remained surrendered in it even as something caught the railing and he was jolted to a stop. The water continued to rush through the sinking vessel, pushing hard against him as it pushed over the edge. The clasps of his gear snapped open, sending Mansk's limp body over the edge and into the ocean bellow.

The warmth of the day lingered in the water as it pulled him down. A current taking him away from the sinking vessel. Without his heavy gun or armor his body floated back to the surface and the waves took him away.

Mansk became aware in stages. First he felt the hot sand, his skin burning and scraping against him. Then a soothing balm of ocean water lapping up and pushing him further onto it. Then the glare of the sun, the blur of blue sky above him as his eyes strained open. The coppery taste of blood in his mouth mixed with salty brine. Then a pleasant smell, warm spice.

Finally his ears cleared of water and the sound of waves and a voice reached him. A voice? Mansk tries to will himself to move, to push past the crushing weight still pinning him. The numbness was passed and the pain shoots through him.

Despite himself he groans, eyes screwing back closed. In the dark again he writhes in the pain. He twists in the sharp grains of sand, the tiny shards pressing against his wounds. There is something warm on his arm stilling him. A gentle pressure soft as silk caressing up to his neck. It brushes against his brow and he finds himself leaning into the contact.

The weight in his skull presses against his consciousnesses. He feels his senses fail him again. A welcoming inky pool submerging him once more. He pries his eyes open once more in a herculean effort and its worth the pain.

Above him hovers an angel, he's sure of it. Nothing else could be so beautiful, so calming. It's brow is creased in concern. He wishes nothing more than to reach up and smooth the line away from the perfect face. He remains still and his vision clouds again, back to the silent depths.

[fieriframes]

[FIERI: For the old favorites... It's the best. ...and everyone would talk about failure and desertion. Kind of like walking into home. Good drinks and good food.]