South Ossetia: battlefield blog

Published 22 August, 2008, 10:11

RT correspondent Mikhail Lebedev was in South Ossetia during the first and most violent days of the conflict. He witnessed the moment when Georgian troops first entered the breakaway republic. As artillery fire shook the capital city of Tskhinvali he kept viewers up to date, broadcasting live less than a kilometre from the hostilities.

This is his diary from the warzone.

Taking over the Georgian base
Saturday, 9 August 2008

Back to the frontline
Saturday, 9 August 2008

From nightfall till dawn
Saturday, 9 August 2008

The town of Gori
Friday, 8 of August 2008

There and back again
Friday, 8 August 2008

The road to Tskhinvali
Friday, 8 August 2008

The march of war
Friday, 8 August 2008

The first steps of the journey
Friday, 8 August 2008

Waking up to reality
Thursday, 7 August 2008

Taking over the Georgian base
Saturday, 9 August 2008

The shelling and gunfire didn’t stop even for a minute. The cameraman and producer had now been out there for almost an hour – way too long. Just a few minutes were left before yet another live and still no sign of them. Some really bad thoughts started to appear in my mind.

Two Georgian planes appeared in the skies. They also started bombing the breakaway republic's capital. It was then that the relief came – I saw our guys coming back. Thank God both were alive and in one piece.

One of the planes flew directly over us just about a hundred metres away, probably trying to see who it was down there. After that it turned around and headed back to the place where we stood. The way he did this manoeuvre was really scary. It was exactly t like it was going for a target that was about to be eliminated – and the target was us. We scattered for shelter but in the end it flew by without shooting at us. It fired again upon Tskhenvali.

The guys that had just came back from patrolling the territories around us proposed we move to the post that Georgian troops used to occupy. There the fortifications could at least save us from the gunfire. We quickly packed and went. The post was just about 500 metres away. While we made our way there the bombing and firing never stopped. On the road there was a destroyed Georgian military truck. When we climbed in to see if there was anything useful left inside, we found bulletproof vests. Lucky us! But our excitement was shortlived. Even though the vests were not torn or anything, we were squeamish about taking them – they were all covered in fresh blood.

So we finally reached the post. Before war broke out it was used as a checkpoint were the troops would check the IDs of those going in and out of the breakaway republic. When the war started obviously the Georgian troops had occupied it, using it as their fortified positions.

Just a few metres off into the territory of South Ossetia there were trenches reinforced with a wall of sandbags. Also there were boxes everywhere you looked – all of them full of bullets. All kinds of ammo for Kalashnikov assault rifles, for tanks, handheld rocket launchers – you name it.

And the most amazing thing – there wasn't a soul here, only little puppies. All of them were terribly afraid of men but at the same time almost starving. Apart from the ammunition that would be enough to supply a brigade for a day of fighting we also found a box of tinned stew. The moment we opened one of the cans with a knife that we also found here, it was clear that the hunger of the puppies was greater than their fear of mankind.

Back to the frontline
Saturday, 9 August 2008

Amazing – despite the war some things continue to work as usual. The taxi that we ordered the day before was waiting for us right on time. Again driving to the frontline in a taxi! We passed the bus station that was occupied by the press yesterday – not a soul. It even got us a bit worried. Perhaps the main war activities have moved some other place today?

Simply raced through the positions of Russian peacekeepers and got to the point where we in the crossfire the day before without anyone asking for our ID's or just simply who we were. No troops or anything – just the signs of war everywhere you look. Some blown-up Georgian military trucks and Land Rover pick-ups that were used to carry soldiers. Now the road was completely covered in caterpillar tracks left by the Georgian tanks.

At first we decided not to go any further because from time to time you could still hear some gunfire and artillery shelling not too far away. Some kind of a steel container, which probably used to be a part of a small cargo truck, now turned into our improvised office for the hours to come. It had a table and provided some cover. But not a very good one I must say. You could see signs of bullets easily penetrating the container.
Looking at the wall through the hole from the right angle, you're able to see the hole that the bullet made in the other wall as it was flying out.

Some time later in the best of the military traditions we sent a reconnaissance group of two people. Those who know these parts best of all: the cameraman, an Ossetian by birth and the producer, who had been to the South Ossetian capital not so long ago.

While they were out there finding out what the situation was like and trying to get some direct shots on camera of Tskhinvali, the fighting and shelling started to get more tense. It was now that I realised that we were right on the frontline. But there was still hardly any sign of journalist colleagues. Only some minutes later a journalist and a photographer from a Polish paper arrived – also in a taxi.

The shelling was already coming from somewhere very close. You could even feel the air vibrations. Although sometimes it was hard to understand whether it was the Georgian tanks and artillery shooting from somewhere nearby or the Ossetians or Russian army that reportedly should already have been on the outskirts of the breakaway republic's capital firing upon Georgian positions. But by now the all of us had got used to these circumstances somehow – we were ducking just in case as a natural instinct.

For the Polish journalists it was a different story. They only came today. You could see that the lady reporter was shivering with almost every sound. It seemed that if I were to drop anything to the metal floor of “our office” she would simply die of a heart attack. As for her photographer colleague, the guy was walking around andtmaking pictures as if he was at some tourist destination but definitely not a conflict zone. I was really starting to get scared for him. He nodded at my words and continued his stroll along the theme park called the “The Georgian war”.

From nightfall till dawn: the town changes its face and color
Saturday, 9 August 2008

Just about two hours later some sounds from outside woke me up. As I went out onto the balcony I saw the city covered in a complete darkness. The only light that could be seen was from the headlights of hundreds of buses that were moving out of Gori. Each one packed to the roof with civilians. It was the culmination of the town's evacuation.

But why would the local population need to be evacuated? There's nothing being bombed around here, it's all so quiet around there parts. Even though there are two military bases around Gori. At the same time the sound of fighting almost couldn't be heard as Tskhinvali was about 30 km away from where we stood.

I was trying to make myself to go to sleep again. It seemed to be no easy task. It's simply amazing how the human organism adopts to the situation. In an extreme circumstance like war you hardly need to eat and physically your body is capable of things that you would have never been able to do in a normal life, like walking for about 20-30 km with carrying a heavy load and so on. Another valuable thing is that you almost don't need any sleep – just two hours per day and it seems like you've slept for at least half a day. And even during those few hours of sleep that you need to restore your strength, you hear almost everything that's happening around you, thus enabling you to wake up as soon as necessary.

In the end I managed to have a snooze only early in the morning, less that an hour before it was time to wake up. And it seemed that we woke up in a totally different city. When we opened the door of our room at 6 am, we almost stumbled over military men sleeping in the corridor. The city had changed its civil face for a khaki uniform.

The town of Gori
Friday, 8 August 2008

Woke up about 20 minutes later… We arrived in Gori. Thank you God – back to civilization!

Here was some kind of life and movement. But on the people's faces you could see all of those sleepless nights and fear. But what was there to fear? The answer to that question became clear a bit later…

Got a taxi to take us to a hotel (or any place where we could leave our stuff, get a bit of sleep and a shower). We came to a place just 100 metres from the square in the city centre that proudly called itself a hotel. The owners clearly seemed unhappy that RUSSIAN journalists came in asking for a place to stay, but after long negotiations they did find us two spare rooms.

I got the bigger of the two, where three of us would be living. It was a building probably built during the Stalin era with a very high ceiling. Although the room was very clean, it had just one bed, albeit a big one.

For all three of us to be in decent comfort, we asked for another mat to be put on the floor. The desperately-needed shower hardly worked because of very low water pressure… But in our situation the mere fact that we managed to get our hands on it at all was as if we were in heaven…

After a short shower we were right back on track – broadcasting live to RT viewers. Only after that were we able to get a bit of rest. Darkness was about to fall and we last ate almost 12 hours ago – Georgian hardtack.

Usually finding a place to eat isn’t a problem almost any place on earth. You can always find some cafes or restaurants in the first 5 minutes. But here we were walking the CENTRAL streets of Gori for about half an hour – and nothing. We started to wonder if the locals eat at all…

There are civilian people strolling around, but no sign of any place where any food could be found. The Soviet citizens must have had a similar feeling – you have loads of money but there's no food you can buy with it.

Finally we came across a minimarket – I suspect the only one for miles around… I can hardly remember a similar feeling when you want to buy almost everything you see… We got ourselves some salads and as much water, cigarettes and tinned stew as we could carry. These were vital necessities under the circumstances of war.

The place was simply packed with all sorts of people. It seemed this shop had recently become the centre of local life. we met another Russian journalist – Dima. He works for one of the Russian newspapers.
He came up to us very cautiously asking (almost whispering) – “Are you guys Russian?” He definitely was tense, perhaps even scared… “Yes” we replied.  Thank God!!! How good to see your native colleagues!

It's always nice to have such meetings during any business trip, and we gladly accepted his company and invited him to have dinner with our crew. Only on our way back to the hotel did we realize that Dima's joy had deeper reasons rather than just longing to speak with the people from his homeland – Moscow.

On the street a local asked whether we were from the Russian press.  Hardly waiting for a reply, he let loose his entire arsenal of swearwords and curses… This started attracting the general attention of everyone around. A crowd started gathering.  Then it suddenly hit me – running around under gunfire, with artillery shells falling just hundreds of metres away, is not as scary as the fury of the locals… Walking out fast (but under no circumstances running), without saying a word, was the best option of staying alive.

Finally, we reached the safety of our hotel rooms. We talked with Dima for about an hour. He told us that Georgians claim that Gori was bombed by the Russians. He found the addresses and went there to see for himself. According to Dima, he failed to see a thing… We exchanged numbers and he left…We also decided to try to get some sleep…

There and back again
Friday, 8 August 2008

Several hours of lives and phoners nonstop almost killed all our equipment, including phones. All six of them had flashing battery signs. But after the signal tower was hit supposedly by Georgian fire the mobile connection was hardly there anyway. Amazing that it was still there at all – it's the first thing that the authorities tend to switch off in a crisis situation. Perhaps they saw no crisis in this war? Or maybe they needed it to work. As their artillery fire was guided by the mobile phones that were operational in Tskhinvali…

It was a miracle that we managed to persuade the guys from the local TV to let us charge our equipment for a short while. The road to the South Ossetian capital became a two-way street as the Georgians started sending in forces again. Transportation of the dead and wounded continued as well…

The evening was approaching very fast: time to think about a place to spend the night. By now all of us had stayed awake for over 30 hours, the last 20 of which we’d spent running around with our stuff and equipment. The variants were few and simple. Go back to Tbilisi and spend several hours on the road there and back (not to mention the money for the taxi), the other – keep on trying to break through to Tskhinvali. The Moscow office told us that they still insisted we go by the second variant. All attempts to explain that it was way too dangerous were in vain.

The best we managed to achieve was to make one more attempt, and if it became too hot to handle we’d return and look for other options of accommodation. At this moment you start to realise that real problems with accommodation would appear if we actually did make it to the South Ossetian capital.

So there's nothing left but to pack our stuff and get back on the road to the breakaway republic. The timing was perfect a three-hour ceasefire giving time to take the dead and wounded out of the conflict zone. The road that for the last few hours had become a road of death for hundreds or even thousands… all that just for ambitions of one insane man…

This time we managed to go deeper into Ossetian territory. The signs of battles were almost on every step. Georgian Land Rovers, trucks that had been blown up, the holes in the road from explosions. Tanks that were disabled were pulled back. They were passing us in the opposite direction. The surface of the road was completely destroyed by the tank caterpillars. Georgian troops returning to their territory didn't have anything to say. When they looked at us their faces almost shouted a very clear message – “These guys heading towards Tskhinvali are completely nuts!!!”

We almost got to Ergneti village – less than kilometre away from the capital of the breakaway republic. Another Georgian battalion pulled in… soldiers jumping out of the cars and immediately running towards the frontline. An amazing little detail hit my eyes. Almost every soldier had a cell phone. And even though the network was overloaded, some were actually giving and receiving orders via MOBILE PHONES!!! So much for the globalisation of war… This time the troops were not as friendly towards us as the first time, but they were still determined that Georgian troops would be celebrating their victory tonight in ‘Georgian Tskhinvali’.

Soon the shooting started just few metres away from us. It appears we’d accidently walked right into the middle of the fighting… The commander ordered everyone to take cover. And that included us…

Slowly running from one cover to another we made our way back…

When we got to the border there were no media left at that bus station that had been occupied by the reporters just about an hour before…

The fighting seemed to have calmed down, but bombing continued. We decided not to risk going back… So we were just a few kilometres away from the frontline of the full-scale war, with no shelter lots of stuff and equipment, and way too long without any sleep… Still going on air every hour or 30 minutes. All batteries were going down and even the sun had started to set…

Going back to Tbilisi was not an option… The closest place we could find to spend the night was Gori, which was soon to make the headlines… We’d walked in the summer heat towards Gori for about five kilometres already – the road being clear of any signs that cars were common around these part – when an empty Georgian Land Rover drove up to us offering us a short ride. It came as a relief…

Another five kilometres we enjoyed a nice breeze from the trunk of this pickup truck where soldiers usually ride. From there on another 10 kilometres on foot before we caught our ride to Gori. The last thing I remember is falling to the floor of a cargo van where sleep caught up with me…

The road to Tskhinvali
Friday, 8 August 2008

We had to get to the South Ossetian capital – we had another RT crew there that accidentally got stuck. But after what we had seen we were all just hoping that they managed to survive.

A break in shooting seemed like a good chance to get through to Tskhinvali and it felt like a voice was commanding, “Go on! Move out! There might not be a second chance!”

Right there on the border there was a small camp of Russian peacekeepers. There were just 15-20 of them. As we came up to them to ask how they were, the answer seemed to no longer matter.

Even though they said they were OK, their eyes cried out – Fear, terrible FEAR! And what they said minutes later literally froze blood in everyone's veins.

We were told: “Our boys in Tskhinvali, they are all dead. The Georgians simply bombed our peacekeeper's positions to the ground. Then they pulled up the tanks and started shooting at what was left of the structure. After this their infantry had a stroll among the ruins, finishing off the Russians with bullets to the head.”

No wonder there was so much fear in their eyes – they saw all of those tanks and soldiers that were carrying out all of those atrocities pass them in great numbers.

Who knows – they could be next. (Just as soon as all the cameras and journalists standing nearby go away).

Wishing them luck, we continued to make our way towards the South Ossetian capital. For the next kilometre my mind was captivated with the latest story. Bastards! How could they attack and kill the peacekeepers. Finishing them off with headshots. Animals!

But soon these thoughts were interrupted. We saw a huge convoy of cars that, just recently, rushed hundreds of Georgian troops into the territories of the breakaway republic.

The cars were now empty and parked at the roadside. The soldiers went ahead to begin their battle. I soon realised that we had accidentally got ourselves right into the middle of all this. The shooting started.

We threw ourselves to the ground on the opposite side of the Georgian convoy. You could almost hear the whistling sound of bullets forcing their way through the hot air. It was now getting hot in more ways than one.

It was only now that I started to understand how wrong it was of me to take so much stuff with me to the war zone. How am I supposed to run around with such a huge bag of clothes?

The next moment left nothing more than just confusion from that hate towards the Georgian troops that I gained after hearing the peacekeeper’s story. Even though it was obvious that we were journalists from Russia, one of those left to guard the cars called for us.

“Hey, come here between the cars, we'll give you cover,” he said.

As soon as we landed on the ground in the middle of the Georgian military car convoy, another Georgian soldier appeared from nowhere. He had some fresh peaches in his hands.

The situation came close to being absurd – a Russian news crew lying on the ground, face to face with Georgian soldiers under fire, eating peaches, speaking about the war, and enjoying the sun. Later we even got a chance to try out the U.S. government property – the hardtack. Quite tasty I must say.

But soon we got information that the convoy could be bombed soon, so we had to retreat to the border. A few minutes later planes came in, raising smoke, roughly in the same place that we had that wonderful peach party with the Georgians just a few minutes ago.

Back at the border, all the Georgian and some international media was still there where we left them – broadcasting from the bus station.

But their attitude towards us was very different this time. Hardly anyone paid any attention to us before we left. But as we returned, and Georgian troops started pulling back with crazy numbers of dead and wounded, we became enemy number one.

People started coming up to us, screaming swear words and blaming us, as if our crew had personally slaughtered a battalion or two of their sons and relatives.

A numbers of trucks, fully packed with dead and wounded, kept on speeding by, heading back to the Georgian territory.

Now their rear was covered with a wall of ammunition caskets in order not to expose the corpses of the soldiers. But from time to time you could still see a hand or a leg sticking out.

The more of these trucks came in, the more tense the attitude of the local journalists was towards us. It became clear that these guys wouldn't worry about being biased in their reports.

The march of war
Friday, 8 August 2008

It is a weird feeling when you are standing at the side of the road while a tank division is driving past you. You can feel the heat of exhaust fumes almost blowing you off your feet. And as you see these endless military forces going into attack, you stand seized by horror – you are now witnessing full scale war kicking off big time!

It was really hard to watch the columns of tanks and trucks, with fully armed men, going to war. They were happily waving to the crowds of Georgian media and locals. Both cheered back. It all seemed as if they already had the victory in their pocket.

Gazing at all of this I couldn't get rid of some thoughts – how many of these people will have to die for somebody's personal political ambitions? And how many people will they have to kill and crush before it's enough?

This major military equipment show-off was added to with four MI-24 helicopters flying in towards Tskhinvali.

The day was a very clear one with very few clouds. Suddenly, looking in the direction of South Ossetia, I saw what seemed to be a storm coming in.

I told my crew to prepare ourselves and the equipment for the rain. The cameraman gave me a look that had all the sorrows of the world. His words explained it all: “It's not storm clouds – it's smoke from Tskhinvali – it's burning down to ashes.”

Hearing such words felt almost as if I had just been just shot in the head. I could hardly imagine the scale of all that was happening. But at the same time I had never seen an entire city on fire either. Not many people have.

It was followed up by two Georgian SU-25 battle planes fuelling the heat as they released all of their immense deadly cargo. A few minutes later the ‘storm’ over the breakaway republic started to ease.

The first steps of the journey
Friday, 8 August 2008

The flight to Tbilisi was scheduled for 1 am. From there we were to reach the South Ossetian capital. But our hopes of being on the spot started to fade as earlier we began receiving reports that yet another bombing of Tskhinvali was in full swing.

The main thoughts running through our minds were – will we be able to get to Tskhinvali and whose flag will be flying there if we do? But there was no other choice but to wait.

As we arrived in Georgia we raced to the border with South Ossetia hoping we were not too late. And even though we were too late to get into the breakaway republic's capital (later we understood – that this was a blessing), we were just in time for the major show-down.

As we were nearing the border we saw how massive the Georgian forces' build-up was. Looking at all of this you realise the negotiation table is not part of Tbilisi's arsenal.

How symbolic. The opening day of the Beijing 2008 Olympics kicked off on a date with magical numbers – 08/08/08. The start of the same day, after a night of fierce shelling on Tskhinvali, Georgia's president Mikheil Saakashvili “nobly” calls for a ceasefire.

And it was no less symbolic that, just about half an hour later, Georgian artillery launched a massive attack on the city. And at around 8 minutes past 8 the echelons of Georgian troops came marching into South Ossetia.

Perhaps Saakashvili is a keen fan of numerology? And goodness, it is hard to imagine how angry the Chinese were at him – the man has almost stolen their Olympics with this war.

Waking up to reality
Thursday, 7 August 2008

Previous days have turned out to be very busy. The Georgia-South Ossetia conflict has started to gain momentum, by now it’s become clear that war is just around the corner…

3 pm – I am sleeping at my parents’ place after days and nights at work, making the latest reports on the developments in the region. By now I have come to the conclusion that hardly anything is as complicated as a conflict in the Caucasus.

My mobile phone is constantly ringing and it woke me up, though its battery is running out. A beautiful, sunny, Moscow summer's day. After my sleepy voice echoes through the air to the other side of the line I'm told: “You're flying to Tskhinvali – the heart of the conflict.”

The moment I heard these words, hardly a shadow of sleep remained. It's a strange feeling when you are told that you have to go to some place where a war is just about to break out – and you're likely to be right in the centre of it.

On one hand you understand it's the chance of a lifetime to prove to everyone, but first to yourself, who and what you are, as a person and as a professional. On the other it sounds almost like a verdict that could turn out to be your death sentence.

A few minutes later, thoughts of a different kind start to occupy your mind. How in the world do you tell your parents that you'll be going into an environment like this? But in the end you can't think of anything other than simply to go and tell them.

It was easy with Dad – probably he heard the commitment in my voice. He only said to take care of myself.

Naturally with my mother it was a different story. I could see the horror in her eyes build up as she realised it could be the last time she saw her son. Grandma simply cried.

At least that was the toughest part of the day over. It was now time to pack. But what and how much do you take with you to the war zone if you are going for what could extend to be an indefinite time?

At this moment my feelings must have been close to those that Frodo from Lord of the Rings had when he was packing for his long adventure. Preparing for something that you know is dangerous but you have no idea how dangerous or in what way.

Here I made my first mistake – I decided to throw in almost all I could put my hands on. The bag grew to a size too big for me to be walking around with for miles in a war zone. But this understanding came when it was too late.

On arrival in the office I found out that we are to go to the South Ossetian capital through Tbilisi, Georgia. A certain relief – if Georgia takes over the breakaway republic, we'll be there on legal terms. God, how wrong I was…

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