Fanatic Chechnya

Yanaev had never expected that Chechnya — deprived of Georgia's support — would be the first to launch a military coup. Nor did he expect Dudayev to initiate an armed secession, despite failing to become Chechnya's president. This unexpected turn seriously complicated Yanaev's strategic plans.

He had assumed the Baltic states would be the first to rebel, though their foundation for independence was weak. To preempt trouble, Yanaev had targeted Georgia early on, knowing it financially backed Chechnya's arms supply. Securing Georgia was key to cutting off the hotbed of Chechen separatism and preventing a future Chechen conflict.

But history followed its own path.

Just half an hour ago, Dudayev had overthrown Kamarev — the Soviet Union's legitimate General Secretary of the Chechen Autonomous Region — and declared Chechnya's independence. Before this, Dudayev had secretly formed an armed separatist militia to confront the Soviet war machine.

Dudayev's forces suddenly attacked, storming the poorly defended Soviet government building. Outnumbered, Kamarev was swiftly captured. Soldiers wielding Kalashnikovs seized him roughly, threw him to the ground, and kicked his bleeding face.

Dragged like livestock into a waiting car, Kamarev's heart churned with dread as a soldier armed with an Uzi kept a cold watch beside him. Where were they taking him? A dark premonition gnawed at him.

Outside, Grozny was under martial law. Armed patrols rounded up innocent civilians, forcing them into lines with guns pressed to their backs.

The car turned onto a wider street, where gunfire echoed and armored vehicles ferried militants to battle zones engulfed in smoke and explosions. Kamarev recognized the Soviet GRU troops exchanging fire with the rebels. But he held little hope — Dudayev's rebellion had been carefully prepared, and the ragged GRU soldiers were no match for the well-organized separatists.

"Our superiors say there's a firefight ahead. We'll take another route," the soldier beside Kamarev said.

The driver nodded and veered into a narrow alley.

Kamarev dared to ask, "Where are you taking me?"

The co-pilot smiled grimly. "To where you belong."

He wasn't worried Kamarev might escape — but wary of a Soviet rescue attempt.

At the alley's end, the soldier exhaled in relief: Dudayev's troops were visible again, having routed the Soviets and taken a crucial step toward Chechen independence.

Kamarev then saw the brutal truth of the separatists' cruelty. Orthodox Christians were captured, lined up, and gunned down in cold blood. The streets ran red.

For these militants, their war was a holy purge — sending "pagans to hell."

Nearby, loudspeakers broadcast Dudayev's fiery speech. The militants cheered wildly, intoxicated by fanaticism.

"Today, we unite for Chechnya's future!" Dudayev declared. "Once oppressed by communism and forced from our land, we have now returned — truly home at last! Stand with me in the fight for liberation!"

The cheers drowned Kamarev's ears. Pale, he felt the doom closing in.

The car reached Grozny's central square, crowded with militants seemingly awaiting Kamarev's arrival.

The door opened; strong hands dragged Kamarev out roughly, carrying him on the ground amid gunfire salutes — a macabre Kalashnikov carnival.

Dudayev approached with a cold, venomous gaze, helping Kamarev to his feet. Two soldiers gripped his arms tightly and pushed him to the center, where cameras were already set.

Dudayev raised his arms to the crowd. "Today, we fire the first shot against the Soviet Union. This man is a running dog of the oppressive regime. Today marks his end — and the end of the Soviet Union!"

For a moment, Dudayev seemed to forget he had once commanded the Estonian garrison. Kamarev wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. Death was near. But weren't communists always ready to sacrifice?

Dudayev held an M1911 pistol — an American weapon of unknown origin. Kamarev didn't care where it came from. In his last moments, he recalled his best memories.

Dudayev clicked off the safety and aimed at Kamarev's forehead.

"Any last words?" he asked.

"Of course." Kamarev sneered at the fanatic militants, speaking clearly, "Don't be complacent. Those who divide our motherland will be punished most harshly. My death is only the beginning — you will pay a painful price."

"Are these just empty slogans, or will people truly die?" Dudayev scoffed, unable to understand the communist obsession with 'great faith' — fanatics all, just like the Chechens.

"No — one more thing." Kamarev's voice grew strong and righteous for his final words.

"Long live the Soviets! Long live communism!"