The truck slowed to a rolling stop. Spencer turned and said, “Edgar, grab your shotgun.”
Fumbling around I quickly realized my gun was in the truck behind ours. Peering out through the back window, a line of quail hurriedly crossed the dirt road.
“Here, just take mine!”
I grabbed the over-under and quietly got out. Out of my peripheral I saw Hutch and his brother silently preparing for a good ol’ fashion bushwacking. There was no need or time to hash out a plan; everyone was on the same page.
“It’s loaded. Here put these shells in your pockets. See them under the bush?”
Spencer pointed to a small crowd of shadowy-outlined nervous quail scurrying about. The male Gambel’s are easy to pick out as they’re exclamation-shaped topknots are more profound. They flickered about like jittery tweakers. Their paranoia substantiated by our sudden interest in them.
I took a few steps and raised the shotgun which signaled the quail to burst from their sanctuary. A whir of wingbeats broke the silent Arizona air. What happened next was a barrage of gunfire.
Birds flew in every direction. Everyone involved in the melee was shouting. Not all of the birds flushed though; five decided to make a dash for it and run towards the edge of a cliff. Bringing up the rear was a stud male. He ran so fast I could see his tiny flamboyant black plume angle backwards; it was almost cartoon-like.
I was told that ground sluicing is acceptable as these desert quail are known to refuse to fly and on occasion, need encouragement. But I didn’t want to be that guy. The little sucker spread his wings and gently took flight, catching a wind current. He was off the ground and fair game.
Without hesitating, I pulled the trigger. The trajectory of the hot pellets created a sand cloud as some impacted and ricocheted off the earth. The rest of the BBs missed their mark, catching nothing but open air. In an instant that damn bird changed his flight path and suddenly dive-bombed straight down.
Stopping just short of the rim of the canyon, my boots skidded to a stop. Panting, I watched in disbelief as quail emerged from the brush at the bottom of the rocky bowl. The leader of the troupe scampered onto a small boulder while his cohort’s escaped. As if to taunt me, he turned and looked at me, seeming to say, “Not today.”
Taking offense to the little bastard’s mocking expression, I shot him just as he turned and zipped upwards in flight from his stone perch. He made it only a few feet up in the air before his limp body fell back to the ground.
“Not today,” I said sarcastically.
Immersed in my own success, I was shocked to suddenly see more movement. A celestial force must have given that little quail a second life, because the bird popped up and quickly staggered toward the edge of the cacti bush and exaggeratedly collapsed forward, disappearing. From the foliage, a white blur appeared with something dangling from its muzzle.
The arrogant quail was delivered to my hand by Spencer’s German shorthair, Lexi. While marveling at its beauty, a chorus exclaiming, “Chi-qui-ta. Chi-qui-ta,”erupted across the whole gully.
We were surrounded like heroes encircled by ruthless assailants. The only sound emanating from across the arid landscape were ghostly callings appearing out of thin air, only to disappear back into the desert abyss. My chest was tight with adrenaline. I took the staccato chit chat as taunts.
This was an invitation to face these black masked bandidos. Small skirmishes began breaking out. The cries for help from those Gambel’s that were perched alone merely gave their positions away. I saw a trio of determined figures clad with orange vests follow the birds’ calls. Quick single-shots were evident of shooters hitting their targets. Gunfire began drowning out more desperate calls from quail across the way. A few of the bandit birds startled me and I fired haphazardly.
Hutch appeared from around a giant cactus with outstretched limbs. He dispersed a volley of shots from his repeater.
“I got one,” he yelled.
Below us we heard a series of calls hailing other quail. Like two gunslingers, we reloaded our shotguns and scrambled downward into the shrubbery thicket of sharp catclaw. Again, we heard the distinctive, “Chi-qui-ta.”
A group of small plump gray birds shuffled down alongside the face of an embankment. Like outlaws that’ve been seen, they were desperate to get away from the armed posse hot on their trail. We split up in the hopes of outflanking the birds. A quick shot from Hutch told me he’d made contact. I broke through a tangled mess of sharp branches. One of my sleeve’s ripped. Blood began trickling down my arm. Sidestepping around a clump of small ground cacti, I found myself in the middle of a huge covey. Ambush. I flicked the safety off.
There is a fellowship intrinsic to military service that is tough to describe to those who have not lived it. For starters, we were all so terribly young. The battalion commanders under whom I served who seemed like such old men back then were, in retrospect, only in their late thirties. Our grizzled Command Sergeants Major were the same age. Now that I have 58 years on my own personal Hobbs meter, I find that to be simply fascinating.
Coming Together
We came from all over the country, and we were total strangers. I never served with anybody I had known before the Army. However, we all had a few things in common. We all, by definition, loved our country. This common character trait created some of the most remarkable relationships. Such stuff can drive young soldiers to do some frankly amazing things.
Military service takes disparate individuals and transforms them into a tribe. Vitalii Skakun is shown circled in the middle. (Photo/Ukraine Ministry of Defense)
It was really all about the tribe. The Army was masterful at weaponizing that primal tribalism into something deep and powerful. Take 100 young strangers and put them in a confined space long enough and cannibalism might ensue. However, make them all wear the same clothes and give them a common enemy and they will move heaven and earth together to accomplish some righteous goal.
Another component is time. If given the benefit of introspection, much of what young soldiers do professionally might seem foolish or ill-advised. However, combat is a hectic, frenetic thing. It is arguably the most hectic and frenetic of all human pursuits. Decisions must be made on the fly that have eternal consequences. One such decision was made on 24 February 2022, near Henichesk, Ukraine. The young man who made it was named Vitalii Volodymyrovych Skakun.
The Guy: Vitalii Skakun
Vitalii Skakun was born on 19 August 1996, in Berezhany in western Ukraine. Growing up, he attended the No. 3 School in his hometown. His mom was a teacher there. Eventually, Vitalii graduated from Higher Vocational School No 20 in Lviv with a certificate in welding. He subsequently earned a degree from Lviv Polytechnic. The next six months he spent in Leszno working in construction.
Eventually, Vitalii joined the Ukrainian Marines. Given his background in construction, he trained as a combat engineer. Combat engineers are interesting creatures in the general military pantheon. While they are trained in infantry tactics, their real forte is reducing obstacles, crossing minefields, and blowing stuff up. They clear the way for the combat forces to follow.
The combat engineers always seemed to me to have a ridiculously hard job. (Photo/US Army)
All that always seemed a bit daft to me. I worked with the engineers on occasion when I was a soldier. The only thing worse than having to close with and engage the enemy with a rifle would be crawling forward into a minefield full of concertina with a Bangalore torpedo so some other poor slob behind you could eventually close with and engage the enemy with a rifle. That’s one of many reasons I went into Aviation.
The Issue
The Ferguson riots helped keep President Obama’s attention off of the Russian invasion of Crimea. (Photo/Wikipedia: Loaves of Bread)
The war began nearly a decade earlier in 2014 with the invasion of Crimea. At the time, the world just couldn’t be bothered. Israel and Hamas were, yet again, getting all kinetic in the Middle East. We had also just had our first few playdates with some psychopathic losers called ISIS.
In Ferguson, Missouri, police officer Darren Wilson shot and killed Michael Brown, and America tried to burn itself to the ground. President Obama had lots more pressing stuff to fret with than Russia’s Little Green Men creeping into the Crimean Peninsula. However, ignoring Crimea turned out to be a short-sighted strategic decision.
I’ll just level with y’all, I can’t stand this guy. (Photo/Kremlin.RU)
Irredentism
Vladimir Putin is a Russian irredentist. That has nothing to do with teeth. Russian Irredentism is the term used to describe someone who views Russia as having a territorial right to land that was once part of the Soviet Union. That worldview had already put Russian troops in Georgia in 2008. In February of 2022 this same Russian irredentism rolled 110 Battalion Tactical Groups (BTGs) into Ukraine proper. Vitalii’s combat engineer battalion was tasked to defend the town of Henichesk against this onslaught.
Henischesk was strategically important because it overlooked an isolated crossing point between Russian-occupied Crimea and Ukraine. The natural chokepoint in the area was the Henichesk Bridge. Built in 1915, this was originally a combination rail and road bridge. In 2022, seizing the Henichesk Bridge was necessary for advancing Russian armored forces to access the Ukrainian heartland. Vitalii and his comrades in the 35th Naval Infantry Brigade were painfully aware of this fact on the chaotic morning of 24 February.
Vitalii Sacrifices For the Fight
Skakun made a call in the heat of the moment to sacrifice himself to stop a Russian armored advance. (Photo/Social media)
The tactical situation was chaotic. Intelligence indicated that a substantial Russian armored column was advancing toward the bridge. Vitalii and his comrades were directed to destroy the bridge by any means necessary. Many of these bridges had been rigged for demolition in advance. However, this particular bridge had to be prepped on the fly.
These young studs used military explosives and land mines to prepare the bridge for demolition. However, the enemy column was approaching rapidly. They lacked the luxury of rigging the time fuse properly. Vitalii and his mates were quite simply out of time.
Vitalii sent a text directing his comrades to retreat to safety. As the lead vehicles from the Russian column approached and with no other reasonable options, Vitalii clacked off the charges by hand. The resulting explosion severely damaged the bridge and halted the enemy advance. It also blew Vitalii Skakun to pieces.
Aftermath
This is the Henichesk Bridge after Vitalii Skakun had his way with it. His sacrifice slowed the Russian advance long enough for the defenders to get organized. (Photo/Social media)
Vitalii Skakun’s selfless sacrifice did indeed buy his combat engineer battalion some critical time. Once regrouped, they organized and executed a spirited and effective defense of the Ukrainian side of the bridge. Two days later, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky posthumously awarded Vitalii Volodymyrovych Skakun the Order of the Gold Star. This is the military version of the Hero of Ukraine award, Ukraine’s highest recognition for valor in combat. Vitalii was 25 years old when he gave his life for his country. He left behind a young child.
Now with a little breathing room, the Ukrainian Air Force pulverized both the Henichesk and Chonhar Bridges. Though no one realized it at the time, the ferocious defense of the Ukrainian homeland in those critical first few days ultimately sealed the Russians’ fate. Once that initial momentum was lost at places like Henichesk and Hostomel, there was just no way the Russians would ever reach the Polish frontier. That’s because of Vitalii Skakun and thousands of other patriotic Ukrainians like him.
Four days after the battle for the Henichesk Bridge, Libor Bezděk, a political representative in the Czech Republic, proposed that a bridge on Korunovační Street near the Russian embassy in Prague be renamed the Vitalii Shakun Bridge. The proposal passed. Now Russian embassy staff have to drive across Vitalii’s bridge to get to work every day.
The Rest of the Story
The war in Ukraine still rages on some two years after the invasion with no end in sight. (Photo/mil.RU)
We all know what happened after that. Against all expectations, the beleaguered Ukrainians have successfully resisted the murderous Russian assault for more than two years. Bitter fighting has claimed hundreds of thousands of lives. Russia’s economy is wheezing and much of Ukraine is a shattered ruin, yet the Ukrainians refuse to capitulate. The war rages on as I type these words.
It is extraordinary that, this deep into the Information Age, nations still go to war over the actions of a single unhinged madman. At this late date, Putin does not have an off-ramp. Having already sacrificed nearly 700,000 Russian troops, if he relinquishes his grip on power even a little bit somebody is going to defenestrate him or dribble a little Novichok into his morning coffee.
Now it seems that the North Koreans are cycling into Russia to fight. When things are so ghastly that you are pushing a bunch of starving North Koreans into the combat zone, your war plan sucks pretty bad. It remains to be seen how these unfortunate malnourished guys will perform once they meet Ukrainian FPV drones and HIMARS precision-guided multiple launch rocket systems.
Deep Magic
Now that I am no longer a young man, I have come to appreciate that soldiers are just kids. We ask so much of them, and they have such heart. (Photo/Social media)
We have all seen the movies. The hero realizes that the situation is dire, and the enemy is at the gates. He then selflessly volunteers to sacrifice himself so that others might live. He goes to his death calm, defiant, upright, and sure of himself. However, those are just actors. They still get to go home when the production is a wrap. That is not the way people behave in the real world.
Normal people will only relinquish their lives with the utmost reluctance. All of God’s creatures are hardwired to live. For a 25-year-old man with a child at home to willingly blow himself up to stop an advancing armored column is dedication and sacrifice on a whole different scale.
Distance has sanitized a great deal of the moral ambiguity out of the Second World War. However, WW2 had more than its share of unsportsmanlike behavior on both sides. (Photo/Public domain)
Vitalii Skakun’s Legacy
The war in Ukraine is important. Yes, it is politically and morally ambiguous. It is also lyrically inefficient and wasteful. All wars are like that. Even the good ones like WW2.
I have said it in this venue before, but the war in Ukraine represents the only chance in a century to castrate Putin and his war machine without spilling a single drop of American blood. I have viewed the Russians over a set of rifle sights ever since I first donned the uniform back in 1984. I’m just the word monkey and my opinions don’t much count, but this still seems like a golden opportunity to me.
