The Darkness Will Dissipate

With the citizens of Tbilisi helping maintain law and order, the Soviet troops stationed in the city felt a marked relief. The thugs who had once roamed the streets, committing crimes with impunity, now had nowhere to hide among the watchful eyes of the city's residents. Some militiamen, armed with SKS rifles—many of whom were retired soldiers who had fought in the Afghan War—joined the combat efforts. They were quickly integrated into the units responsible for enforcing martial law in the city.

The greatness of the Soviet army was far from an empty slogan. The same brave soldiers—like sniper Vasily, soldier Pavlov, tank operator Sura, and the workers from the Red October Factory—who had faced enemy fire head-on during the country's darkest hours were now standing shoulder to shoulder with the citizens of Tbilisi, defending their homes.

After a night of fierce fighting, the rioters gradually vanished. With the help of the city's inhabitants, Soviet soldiers managed to stabilize Tbilisi. In total, 117 rioters were killed and 59 captured. Those who remained realized the futility of their resistance and chose to abandon their weapons and flee.

As dawn broke and the coldest night gave way to the pale light of morning, the square before the government building was littered with abandoned Kalashnikov rifles and a few RPG launchers. Exhausted Soviet soldiers lay sprawled across the square, some asleep, others sitting on the ground sharing bread and laughter—food generously brought by Tbilisi's citizens to thank them for restoring order.

After the chaos of the previous night, the people finally recognized who truly cared for their safety.

The fifty-nine captured rioters were lined up with hands raised in defeat. Many were young—some even students from Tbilisi University—who had been swept up in the slogans of Georgian liberation and joined the armed mobs.

"Behave yourselves, you bastards, move along," the Soviet guards barked, pushing the prisoners forward and spitting in their faces. Fatigued and furious after a sleepless night, the soldiers' patience had worn thin. They longed to strike these troublemakers.

One university student, pushed roughly, had never endured such humiliation. He shoved back with wide, furious eyes and flipped a middle finger, shouting, "Don't touch me, you trash! You're the running dogs of the rulers!"

His defiance earned him a harsh blow: the butt of a rifle struck his nose, and he crumpled to the ground, clutching his bleeding face as tears welled up. Sympathy flickered in the eyes of onlookers, but no one dared intervene. For these self-centered youths, it was their first encounter with the iron fist of communist rule.

"I'll kill you, bastard!" the student snarled, trying to rise again, unwilling to swallow his humiliation despite being the cherished center of his family's world.

But before he could recover, a swift kick to his stomach sent him sprawling back to the ground. The Soviet guards then tore off their masks and slammed the bolt of a rifle against his head.

"If you resist again, do you want me to shoot you right here?" one cold voice warned.

The muzzle pressed to his temple, the student instantly calmed, though his eyes still blazed, daring the soldier to pull the trigger.

The soldier, about to teach him a final lesson, suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, he saw Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov, who had witnessed the entire scene.

"What's going on here? Why did this fight start?" Barankenov asked, his tone firm yet calm.

The university student, still dazed, sneered and interrupted, "Are you the commander here?"

Barankenov shook his head with a wry smile. "Yes, I am Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov, commanding this operation."

"Well then, how long do you plan to detain me?" the student asked arrogantly, as if the question itself were a challenge.

Squatting down to meet the young man's gaze, Barankenov asked gently, "What's your name, kid?"

"Yakov," came the quick reply.

"Yakov, why did you join this riot?"

"For the freedom and democracy of Georgia," Yakov said with passion, clenching his fists. "Jefferson said the flower of freedom must be watered by the blood of patriots and tyrants. We're fighting for Georgia's freedom!"

Barankenov sneered. "Oscar Wilde once said patriotism is an evil virtue. Is that what you mean by fighting for Georgia?"

Grabbing Yakov by the collar, Barankenov hauled him to a nearby row of bodies covered in white sheets. His voice darkened. "Is this what you're fighting for? Do you even know who they are?"

This bit i could not translate 

Yakov shook his head. How could he, with his cold nature, know who was lying under those shrouds?

"Okay, I'll tell you." Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov pulled him in front of the corpse. He lifted the white cloth, pressed Yakov's head in front of the corpse, and made him open his eyes to see clearly.

A pale, bloodless face came into close contact with Yakov, and the college student was so frightened that he screamed and tried to move her away from him, but Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov forcibly held down his arms and made him unable to move.

"The body in front of you is Lisa. You thugs broke into her room at 2 o'clock last night and shot her parents. Then you raped this poor child on her bed and suffocated her with a pillow. The child was only twelve years old. You beasts, you can kill her as many times as you want."

Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov became more and more angry as he spoke. He lifted up another shroud, revealing a charred corpse with only a row of sparse teeth and empty eye sockets staring helplessly at the sky.

"This is Oleg, a Communist who has loyally served the citizens of Tbilisi for decades, a true patriot. At one o'clock last night, you rushed into his house, knocked him and his wife down, set the house on fire and burned them to death, and even put up a sign with a Nazi symbol at the door of his house. Do you think you deserve to die?"

"I didn't kill these people. This was not the result we wanted." Yakov said regretfully while wiping his tears.

Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov was much stronger than the college student. He grabbed Yakov like a chicken, and his arm was bulging with veins because of the excessive force. "You selfish people have no regard for the rule of law, no morality, and nothing. There is only so-called disorderly freedom and anarchism. To be honest, I really want to shoot you ignorant young people in the head, but I am a soldier and have no right to decide your life or death. But you'd better remember one thing, all of you will be sanctioned by the Soviet people! Did you hear me clearly?"

Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov's words were more lethal than bullets. Yakov in front of him was sobbing and speechless. Was he ashamed? Was he regretful? Lieutenant Colonel Barankenov was too lazy to understand what this person was thinking. Everyone must be responsible for their own actions and pay the price for their mistakes.

As for whether these people would be sentenced directly by bullets or sent to work coal in the icy and snowy Siberia, that depended on the mood of the trial judge.