Nahili Samurai

Gokdepe – Gonubek translation part 2 | January 22, 2008

(continued from Part 1)

There weren’t many who returned with heads held high, most were wounded, and injured. A part of those who attacked found eternal peace, they were relieved from the torterous waiting of what will happen, what disgrace this will lead to. Now here, now there women bringing water to warriors or searching bodies of their relatives among delivered corpses could be seen.
During those days Gara batyr– I don’t know from which tribe, from which branch he was,– I didn’t see him perish from an enemy bullet myself, but I heard from people who saw it with their own eyes.
From afar trenches of Russians become a line. Somewhat on their right side there’s a group of Cossacks on horses. Occasionally an exchange of fire is heard. Fortress defenders who responded to enemy fire very rarely discussed among themselves how Russians will proceed. One guy was remembered who mingled with enemy at night absolutely naked, silently approached the guard, cut him with the sword and took his berdanka as trophy, and returned safe and sound. Also, another three men were discussed who went around the enemy trenches at night, approached them from behind, and killed two sleeping officers and three soldiers. They took two revolvers, three rifles and boots of three killed people as trophy, and returned back safe and sound. It was learned two of killed were officers because of revolvers and the tent at their place. This kind of luck was considered brought by fortune, and in the first place it was considered the result of courage of the valiant guys. Then the grenade which exploded right on a cover beside Diñlidepe and killed four people.
– If the death comes looking, it will find one anywhere. If the fate is not due anywhere you are, in any situation you will remain unhurt– said one of the old warriors.
– God will take His property (“life” – when He requires, this only depends on His will– said he at the end of his words.
–If I bring His property to Him myself, won’t He take it? – asked Gara batyr.
– You won’t be able to do so– replied the warrior.
– This isn’t in a man’s hands.
– On this very day, right now I will bring His property to Him. I will return it if He wants, and even if He doesn’t want.
Gara batyr having said these words went towards the fortress, and came back soon mounted on his horse. He held his spear with a lean. He rode through the south gate of the fortress, swept near the base of its wall, approached his sitting and reclined friends. He told them:
– Watch me go and return God’s property to Him now. I will return it if He wants, and even if He doesn’t want, he said.
He had a magnificent bay horse under him. He leaned towards the saddle and thrust towards horsed Cossacs like a bullet. People left behind observed him with curiosity. There was an increase in shots from the Russian trenches. Cossacks were still in a group as before. Gara batyr attacked them face to face, and immediately dismounted two of them. It wasn’t possible to clearly observe all actions of Gara batyr from afar, but panic he created was very big. A few Cossacks fell off their horses; a few leant their horses down and escaped.
Gara batyr returned back to the fortress. They sent a volley of bullets after him. He let the horse gallop forward, and approached the fortress to the distance of a conversation. At that place he fell off the horse. The enemy bullet broke his fatal thread the moment it hit him.
Spirits of friends adoring his courage were lowered; they set to collecting Gara batyr’s dead body.
– He kept his word; he became a shahid– said one of the people carrying him.
– He met his fate– said the old warrior who was helping to carry Gara batyr’s dead body and guided his horse.
The grief didn’t prolong, that very moment the sorrow was swept off peoples’ faces. Because Gara batyr was relieved from torture of so many hard days and nights! Similar to this, brave actions like this – self-sacrifice happened a lot.
A musician, blind for both eyes, well-known as the Blind of Kepele run towards the way from which roar was coming the day fortress fell. But that unfortunate poor man quickly realized trying to escape was useless. He staggered along, falling every two steps, stumbling over the dead bodies, wounded people, pits and bumps.
–I will sing the last song about the nation and the land–and having said so he sat down, took his dutar out of the casing, and started singing at the top of his voice. But the bullet of fate tore off the song in between. Among the ear-blocking noise of cannonade and shots, enemy that surrounded everything, terrible din, wailing of women and children, trample and crash, the song of the Blind Musician was proclaiming the end of free, reckless Turkmenchilik in a way that made hair stand on end.


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