INSTEAD OF A FOREWORD

MISSION is the destiny's as well as one's own inner calling to the fulfillment of the espe-cially challenging assignment connected with overcoming hardships, enhanced danger and self-abnegation. INTROMISSION is the insertion of something into something. The book gives us a chance to be introduced to a rare phenomenon of both notions' blending. In the aura of the obsession with same-sex relations that often grow into genuine feelings or even love. Hitherto we came across a similar phenomenon just once - in the context of the legends about Don Juan. Where mission and in-tromission were also blended inseverably. But that was within the aura of the trivial hetero sex. The world literature is replete with such stories. The difference is only in the number of lovers and copu-lations.

In the book we deal with the Kazanova, but of the opposite nature. And this literary confes-sion can be rated as equal to the memoirs of the Italian celebrity. With that specific difference, that our seeker of sexual adventures is wearing a military coat and is honing his coital talent in the army envi-ronment. Does it need to be said that the spirit of barracks is as much stronger than the spirit of the civil life as shag's spirit is stronger than that of "Virginia Slims"? Each page of the book is impreg-nated with this smell of soldier's sperm and sweat. As you read it, the image of the army in the decline of the Soviet empire becomes increasingly brighter, the image being not literary but really grotesque one. It is the image of the army that was an exact replica of the society and regime where the entire life rested on the showing off panache and total unconcern toward everything and anything, rather than on Marxism-Leninism. To be more exact, the former was the ideological content of the latter. This cannot be doubted that the one single military unit depicted in the novel was the reflection of the situation in the monstrous army mass as a whole. This was proved also by the dumb Afghan military adventure, and later - by the shameful "war" in Chechnia. So this book can also serve a document of the end of the Soviet epoch.

But it has one more merit: this is a lyrical narration of a young Russian man, a result of "the mind's cold watching and sorrowful notes of the heart". This is a confession of the unsettled soul that rushes about - like in a disturbing waking dream - in the desire to get a grasp of the life's meaning. Sexual insatiability and recklessly saucy tones conceal the hunger for genuine friendship, deep love and human warmth in personal relations which are still being suppressed by the youth hypersexuality and cynicism imposed by the manner of life. This quality is characteristic of the entire gay environ-ment where ties come into being very quickly - to get as quickly broken. The majority of gays are doomed to the lonely old years (if they live to be old) not being able to get the timely understanding of the fact that the stable warmth of the family hearth is more secure and of a bigger value than the delu-sive novelty of constantly changing sexual partners. In fact the gushing potency that can be seen from aside as a deliberate stretch of facts from the author's side, is not something extraordinary in any envi-ronment where young and healthy males are doomed exclusively to each other's company for a long time.

Probably there have not been other literary works in the Russian language to disclose - so accurately and mercilessly - the diverse shades of the gay love that was forced to assume the air of friendship, and at another time - to lay low altogether. And to be ever wondering: is this an accidental episode for the beloved, a fleeting event, or the manifestation of his most profound essence? Will your love be forcefully erased out of the memory or remain in it as the most cherished and sacred impres-sion? Here I'd like to present the words of the book's author that reflect its very essence : "This is my world and I'll see to it that I can always have it before my eyes. Having made an attempt to fulfill the intromission into myself, I saw that everything is not that hopeless. This was also the intromission into the world of those who have come my way... I managed to understand them and came to love them. I fucked their brains and removed the entire filling out of those. And I've found out that shit is not that plentiful in the world".

Mark Zalk, V.B.

As the morning broke I felt I was getting better. Or rather I was granted a chance to feel that way. Similarly to the cardiology department, there was a master sergeant that passed orders of the squad officer directly to the future executors. I didn't notice any bacchanals with beatings up. Every-thing was based on trust here. Guys were busy with their work, for they didn't feel like going back to the unit before the appointed time. Here it was as elsewhere. The work was hard. I still could not find any possi-bility to stay here due to other diseases, so I couldn't but toil. With my nose bandaged I was laboring for the sake of the ear-nose-and-throat department carrying bricks - which was the easiest of all works. My partners couldn't help laughing seeing me constantly rushing before their eyes in this dreadful ban-dage around my nose. But the most interesting thing about this was that we were working side by side with the arrestees from the guardhouse. From the very morning I had a hunch that I'd see someone of my acquaintances. I nearly dropped the bricks on my feet when I saw Oleg. I remembered him all too well, back in Moscow he had been the life of all parties. We never had a chance to sleep together. He had been married for a few years and had never cheated on his husband. The army life changed him a lot: a submissive hunted-down look, a wry smile at my sight. And he didn't recognize me on the spot. The armed guys with pumped muscles closely watched the arrestees, so there was not a slightest chance of secluding ourselves to exchange stories of the army victories. Finally the guards announced a smoke break, and I sat down next to him. I had no possibility to boast about my own victories, as he was the only one who was speaking. He got to the guardhouse after an incident similar to mine. Oleg's neighbors in the ward, seeing him making love with two boys at a time, also developed a desire to give it a try. Oleg turned them down and after that was publicly exposed as a sodomite. Like myself, he was left all by himself against a pack of wolves. His former lovers revealed that it was he who had seduced them and thus got off with just two days of hard labor, while Oleg was sent to the guardhouse for the term of ten days. That day was only the fifth of his stay there - but he had already seen enough. The hearsay that a fag was coming had preceded Oleg's arrival by far. As he entered the cell, the entire criminal population was in readiness. He was amazed about being paid so much of precious attention. The cell could hardly be called spacious. With all one's imagination called up, it's hard to believe this tiny room the size of a cargo lift could house ten inmates. It was evening and the folks, spent by hard labor were falling off their feet onto each other. Gradually all those fellow victims, who were still keeping awake, started making inquiries about his sexual orientation. Lie was senseless and besides, Oleg was a brawny fellow and did not feel scared of his fatigued cell mates over whom he was capable of getting the upper hand. About an hour after the retreat the door opened and a guard's mug showed up. The guardhouse security rested on the powerful shoulders of landing troops soldiers; most of them had recently come back from Afghanistan. The mug called Oleg's name and in an unobtrusive tone ordered to follow him.

Rising from the floor, Oleg had a vague idea of the reason of his being called up. But he couldn't suppose there would be nine men in the guards' room. He had a feeling that the "afghans" had scanty time at their disposal (the officer had absented himself for a couple of hours). They really did not spend time on asking him questions. Two men, standing behind Oleg, simultaneously struck him on kidneys from both sides and he collapsed on the floor. The blow was dealt professionally, right on the pain points and without leaving visible marks. At this very moment the toughest of masochist wouldn't envy Oleg. He lost consciousness twice and both times was quickly brought back to the harsh reality. Excited by such a great warm-up and having recovered their breath, valiant guys decided to treat themselves to another kind of entertainment. Having tied Oleg's hands to the radiator, they stripped him to the skin and started raping him by turns. Screaming was out of the question. First they just covered his face with their palms and then put a fragment of a teaspoon into his mouth thus making another place for appeasing their sexual hunger. Not a single one of the nine men was fastidious to discharge into a fag. But even the energy of the nine males is not inexhaustible. After a while Oleg could eventually take a long breath. His mouth and rear were turned into a bloody mass. The sight of all this made the two newly arrived "afghans" turn away for a second. But that did not stop them from showing their own skills. Thankfully, these did not beat him. About three times they took turns raping Oleg, until they weakly fell on the couch to the general guffaw. Then they untied Oleg and led him to the wash-stand…

This was the end of the last breather, so Oleg started getting ready for the journey back. His eyes were filled with scare and despair. Probably that used to happen every night. I only had time to say: "May God save you". She started crying. Master sergeant's stentorian voice ordered everyone to get into the truck. Oleg cast a farewell glance at me. Somehow I felt it was our last encounter. I stayed put on the self-made bench. A guard that was passing by asked me for a cigarette. I told him to fuck off and he answered something indistinctly while moving away. I flung a brick at him after which, fearful of the return round from the gun, took to my heels. Going by the fact that I did survive, I had missed, which I've been regretting till now.