Henry-Finland
Member
"Toilet thief gets what he deserves"
Proletarsk Oil Depot Still Burning 10 Days Later! Video Shows Level of Destruction
" It took 15 years to build it..."
Proletarsk Oil Depot Still Burning 10 Days Later! Video Shows Level of Destruction
" It took 15 years to build it..."
I guess it will burn out eventually
View attachment 47494
INSIDE RUSSIA (video blogger):
RUSSIA'S LARGEST OIL REFINERY JUST BLEW UP
An explosion occurred at Omsk oil refinery owned by Gazprom Neft.
According to the local news sources, one of the oil refining installations ABT—11 caught fire. The fire area is spreading.
According to some local residents, the explosion at the refinery was heard several kilometres away, and was so forceful that "houses began to shake".
Omsk refinery is the largest in Russia. It provides a tenth of the total gasoline production in the country. Its capacity is more than 20 million metric tons of oil per year, and the number of employees exceeds 3.5 thousand.
This is yet another proof that Russia is feverish.
Russia's Largest Oil Refinery Exploded! | Gas Shortages Are Expected
This is funny - and sad:
A man wants to speak about the truth in Russian state TV. (Four minutes - English subs)
Andrey Fedorov is ashamed of the way Russia's invasion is going
The same old Russian bureaucracy going back to Stalin. Rigid, ideological, and unable to change.
After the North Africa failures Eisenhower initiated leadership training down to the lowest level.
I read a book on the Battle Of Stalingrad. The movie Enemy At The Gates loosely based on n actual dual between a Russian and German sniper matched the conditions I read.The same old Russian bureaucracy going back to Stalin. Rigid, ideological, and unable to change.
After the North Africa failures Eisenhower initiated leadership training down to the lowest level.
When I asked ChatGTP to also translate the headline "From 'Storm' to the 'Freedom of Russia' Legion" (the post here above), it understood that it should describe the whole story. That was not my intention, but it summed up the post like this:
"The statement appears to be referring to a transition from serving in a Russian military unit, likely involved in front-line operations (possibly "Штурм" or "Storm"), to joining the "Freedom of Russia Legion" (Легион "Свобода России"). This legion is composed of Russian volunteers who oppose the Russian government's actions, particularly in the context of the ongoing conflict with Ukraine.
The person recounts the "cannibalistic" practices within the Russian army, a term likely used metaphorically to describe the brutal, dehumanising conditions and the extreme measures taken against soldiers, such as summary executions or mistreatment of prisoners. The account provides a vivid description of the hardships faced, including the dangers of being targeted by one's own side, the lack of adequate support, and the challenges of escaping dangerous situations.
This story is part of a broader narrative about the disillusionment with the Russian military and the subsequent decision to defect to a group that opposes the current Russian regime, seeking to fight against what they view as a corrupt and oppressive system. The "Freedom of Russia Legion" represents this shift, being composed of Russian citizens who have turned against their government, often as a result of witnessing or experiencing the brutal realities of the conflict."
A soldier who changed sides tells about the unit where he worked in the Russian army.
He is now fighting for Ukraine in the 'Freedom of Russia' -legion.
The translation is not from the beginning as I thought the main thing is to get a picture of the Russian army. It is a very long story and I did not translate to the end either.
But one thing is sure: The Russian army is sick and the soldiers, "the meat", is very poorly trained, if at all.
This is a ChatGTP translation:
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From 'Storm' to the 'Freedom of Russia' Legion - A Russian on the Cannibalistic Customs of the Russian Army
"He returned with a very minor injury—just some shrapnel. You don't come back from the battlefield with something like that. The commander got angry because the division commander kept demanding hourly updates from him over the radio, asking how things were going. He would always respond with "no changes," "no changes," but the commander was already frustrated. He even hinted that he might "erase" him for this. The commander's right-hand man, who always carried a pistol, would pour one into the back of his head if needed.
They put pressure on the guy, who wasn't particularly mentally stable. He walked around looking downcast for a few days. The commander eventually decided not to erase him but instead reassigned him to a logistics group, carrying water, ammunition, and other supplies. After a few days, the guy became more and more depressed. One day, he walked out of the building, took a grenade, put it under his armor, and—boom. Thank God he didn't take any of us with him because I was just about to go outside when a scout stopped me, saying, "Wait, wait, let him go first."
He was returning from the front line, already exhausted, and he saw the guy with a grenade in his hand. The scout said he wanted to talk him out of it, but he was so tired that he didn't care anymore. He just said, "Fine, do what you want, just let me get to the trench." So he walked past, the scout stopped me, and the guy shoved the grenade under his vest and—guts all over the branches. This wasn't just a figure of speech; it was the first case of such a suicide execution, call it what you will.
They call it "eternal bureaucracy" with such people because you have to write a bunch of reports on why your soldier refused to fight, why your soldier is a traitor, and so on. Commanders suffer because of it. I don't know if it's because there's a belief that a Russian soldier can't be seen as a coward, or if it's just fear for their own lives. According to the stories, erasing used to be more common during my time. Now, they say it's happening less often, although during my almost four months on the front lines, there were several cases of erasing, especially if you count suicides.
One of the conscripts refused to go into battle. He had been fighting for a while but eventually realized that hanging around under fire with his life at risk wasn't for him, so he left his position without permission, saying, "I don't want to be there anymore." They brought him to the commander, who talked to him, and after some time, the commander offered him the option of carrying supplies to the front lines, evacuating those who couldn't do so themselves. He refused again because he didn't want to be anywhere near the front—100 meters, 50 meters, or even a kilometer away.
The commander, without much thought, gave the order to erase him. They took him behind a nearby building, shot him in the head, and threw a grenade on his body, reporting it as a combat loss. They throw the grenade on the body to make it harder to identify that he was shot. And even if they do identify it...
They shot him, just shot him. And who would prove it? Maybe some VSUshnik (Ukrainian soldier) did it. There were also other cases among the same convicts from his draft. One of them was just a talker; he trusted his fellow prisoners, telling them that he wanted to cross the border to the VSU side to surrender. But they turned him in, FSB officers came, took him away, and I never saw him again. There was also a case—I honestly didn’t understand why he was sent to be 'erased.' He had a 228 charge, which is drugs, I believe. I don’t know why, but they kept him in a basement tied up in the most uncomfortable way, hands and legs bound behind his back, twisted into an arch. They kept him like that for about a day and then erased him.
There was another case in that same Ocheretino. A stormtrooper during the storming of Ocheretino, a former Wagner fighter who had signed a contract with the Ministry of Defense, decided that storming wasn’t for him anymore. He tried to disguise himself as a civilian. There were civilians hiding in certain basements, and he mingled with them. But he was caught in a very stupid way—he kept his Wagner medallion. One of the civilians saw it, mistook it for a VSU medallion, raised the alarm, and he was brought to us. It turned out he was just a coward, so they erased him too.
Or there was the case of a commander who had a falling out with another person. He was drunk, grabbed a grenade, and threw it into a dugout. But being drunk, he got the wrong dugout, so it wasn’t the person he was mad at. They didn’t erase him, just tied him to a tree and beat him for a long time. That’s how they dealt with drunks in our unit.
Regarding erasures in Ocheretino, there are probably still those two bodies there. Two trees and two soldiers tied to them. There are plaques on them saying they were '500th'—they deserted their comrades, so they were executed. They were tied to the trees, and the sign says 'Caution: Mines.' No one wants to remove the bodies because there are mines buried nearby. Those two bodies are probably still there in Ocheretino.
Sometimes the evacuation group takes bodies not from their own unit but from another to meet their daily quota. There have been times when you go to collect the body of your comrade, only to find it’s already been taken because someone else needed to fulfill their quota. Or they would pass off the bodies of VSU soldiers as Russian soldiers without documents. Who would know? We had a completely useless political officer who recorded everything on camera and made people apologize for saying anything out of line. He was a useless guy, so the commander gave the order to erase him, saying, 'Take him somewhere and shoot him, I don’t care.' And he was a major or some high-ranking officer.
Every time our stormtroopers went on a mission, they suffered about 80% losses—almost every time. They gave us dedicated convicts who were well-equipped. There were about 104 of them, I think. They were sent to storm a corner of the forest belt, which we had been trying to take for three weeks because it was well-defended, with sectors covering each other with fire. After three weeks of storming, only 17 were left. They gave us new soldiers, and we trained them on the range.
When I returned after Berdychi, there was a guy on the range who, during an exercise, took a live grenade, walked out into the field, laid it under his head, and blew himself up. Just went and killed himself for no apparent reason. We spent about two weeks resting, got new people, and were sent to storm Ocheretino again.
We didn’t have much air support because we had lost most of our aircraft. I was acting as a scout, going here and there, finding targets, doing this and that. Over the month and three days we spent in Ocheretino, I scouted almost the entire city and the surrounding area. I mainly focused on reconnaissance, delivering water and ammunition to the front lines. I almost got hit by a drone that exploded in the branches; it hit the branches and blew up in the air, knocking me down. Our drones had a tendency to crash nearby as soon as they took off.
There were plenty of drones on the Ukrainian side, including those damn 'vampires' that wouldn’t let us sleep at night. I prefer to call them vampires because it sounds more official. I was busy with my tasks, flying when necessary. The issue of sabotage groups (DRGs) was serious—sometimes they would sneak in and wipe people out. When I was searching for lost soldiers or '500ths' in the city, I’d walk into a house at 4 a.m. and find six people sleeping with no one guarding them. I thought, 'Come on, you’ll get killed.' I ended up stealing their radio and went on with my tasks.
When the mission in Chechino ended, we had lost so many people that we pulled back for about two weeks to recover. During those two weeks, our base burned down, and all my stuff was destroyed. We moved to the range, where some big shots were showing off.
He says there’s no point in taking people off [operations] during these demonstrations. The night vision device I found in Ocheretino was incredible—a binocular night vision device. With that night vision device, I cut an antenna off an enemy’s position at night. I just took the night vision device, went to their position, cut the antenna, and left. It was worth 100,000. For example, a drone flies low, you look around, flip its battery, and run. It wasn’t a problem; the problem was getting out of that area afterward.
As for drones, no one gave them to us in the best traditions of the Russian army. I never heard of any coming through humanitarian aid either. You either buy them with your own money or find trophies. In our case, you walk around where they might have fallen, usually in the gray zone between positions. So, you walk through minefields—like when the front has moved forward, you go back a bit where there are unexploded cluster munitions, like little bells scattered around. You walk around, and there might be mines. It looks like nothing’s there, but in reality, there's something explosive underfoot. One smartass kicked one of those bells to see what it was, and it blew his foot off.
We were searching for drones when we first left Ocheretino. We decided to walk through those minefields to look for drones and found two over 10 km—one was ready to use, and the other just needed a firmware update and some repairs. All repairs and firmware updates were out of our own pockets. We officially didn’t have Kalashnikovs in our unit, so they didn’t issue them. I asked around in units that did have them, but nothing was really issued either. It was all hit or miss, mostly DIY.
If you wanted to fly drones, you paid for everything yourself. When we left Ocheretino for the first time, we lost all our equipment. So, five days later, it was time for a new mission. The drones were burned, the chargers were burned, all the equipment we bought for FPV training was destroyed—everything burned. Anything that wasn’t on me when I left for the range was gone. We had some drones at the range, so they survived. We urgently searched for two or three more drones because we had nothing to take on the mission. Then we went to storm Ocheretino again.
This time, they gave us 200 convicts to storm the Sokol area, southwest. I was still in touch with the Legion, and they told me this would be my last mission before getting out. We were there for about three weeks. Again, I was mainly doing reconnaissance rather than fighting, leading small groups into the city. They’d break the groups into smaller units of 10, 14, 15 people, and I’d lead them into the city from a safe rear area. Then, I’d lead a larger group to the front, stopping about 100 meters from the front and then going back to get more.
It wasn’t much fun because of the cluster munitions, and not everyone had radios, so we had to pass messages by word of mouth or keep running back and forth. Plus, not everyone knew how to use a map. They trained them so poorly that when I led them into Ocheretino for the first time, I turned around and saw that everyone had scattered. I spent two weeks looking for those lost soldiers all over Ocheretino.
I planned to take out some equipment like amplifiers for Mavics and drones, but by the time I was ready to leave, we had already lost almost all our drones because of electronic warfare and other reasons. I couldn’t take out any equipment because there was nothing left to take.
The mission was to eliminate the commander. As for his characteristics, he understood what he was doing and the stupid orders he received from above. He knew that those higher up were idiots who were just sending people to the front for medals and stars, but he didn’t refuse to follow orders. He didn’t set up firing squads, but he didn’t refuse orders either. He once said, 'I respect our president for his foreign policy, but I disagree with much of his domestic policy. But I love how he handles foreign affairs.'
He also said he was a pacifist and had never killed anyone during the war—his subordinates did that for him. It was decided to eliminate him. We thought about different options and decided that my safety was the priority, so I had to make it out alive. There were 15 of us in a basement, with guards watching from above. One option was just to shoot everyone and leave, but that was too risky and stressful.
Another option was to catch him when he went to the toilet or a meeting, but we didn’t settle on that. I suggested a different plan: in the basement where we were, there was a drainpipe right above the bed where he slept, which led outside near the entrance. We decided to drop a couple of grenades down the pipe so they would explode right next to him. The pipe also had communication lines running through it—radios and such. We started planning how to drop the grenades, how many we could throw, and how to escape afterward.
They asked me how I could get out, so I roughly outlined the routes. We chose the main route, but I also had a backup route in case something went wrong. The backup was slightly longer but better known to me—I had scouted it beforehand, walking through the forest belts to evaluate the path.
I also managed to find a sapper's stash with mines and PMs (anti-personnel mines). Since I’m not a sapper, I didn’t mess with them. I settled on the PMs because they’re easy to use. I quietly took six of them from the stash—well, quietly, but the cat saw me taking them and didn’t say anything.
In the end, I couldn’t take any expensive equipment because it was either lost or…
I was so nervous that I even forgot my radio. And two or three hours before I was supposed to leave, there was an assault on the forest belt right next to my exit route. One of the guys surrendered and was taken prisoner. They tied him up and left him in a trench, where they found him, brought him to the commander, and gave him a bit of a beating. The commander looked at him, asked some questions, and then decided to 'nullify' him. I saw him about two hours later; by that time, they had already beaten him, decided whether or not to 'nullify' him, and the vultures were circling, deciding who was next. They took him outside and shot him—first in the limbs, then provocatively shouted, 'Glory to Ukraine!' He responded, 'Glory to the heroes!' Maybe out of a desire to get it over with, or maybe he genuinely believed it. Then they emptied the entire magazine into him and finished him off.
I thought, 'If I end up in their hands, they won't spare me either, even though I've been serving with them for nearly four months.' That's the state I was in when I set out. I forgot to take my radio because it was on my second body armor. I had my main, lighter body armor, so I wouldn't have to carry the heavy one. I had prepared my gear, laid out the mines, and tied the grenades. I thought about throwing more than one or two grenades—combat grenades like the F1, a gas grenade, and a thermite grenade to set fire to a trash pile on the first floor. I figured why not burn it; it wouldn't hurt.
So there I was, with a makeshift spear—grenade on a stick—to push it into the pipe, ready to leave. Suddenly, some guys started yelling, 'Bird! Bird!' [referring to a drone], and my timing was off. I had already left and couldn’t get back in touch because there was no internet in the basement. I stood outside like an idiot with a spear, waiting for half an hour until they left. Finally, they were gone, and I went outside. Someone in the neighboring building turned on a light or a flashlight.
I had already pulled the pin halfway out of the grenade, just enough so it would take a slight movement to fully release it. Then I started fumbling with the grenades. I pulled the pin on one and heard a 'pop' on the other end. I was already reaching for the gas grenade to pull the pin when someone from the neighboring building started shooting at me with a suppressor. I knew because I recognized the sound of the shot, whether it had a suppressor or not. I completely forgot about the grenade, didn't even realize if I had pulled the pin or not. I just threw it away, grabbed my rifle, and rushed back into the building, running up to the first floor in the opposite direction from where the shots were coming from. I jumped out of a window, which had long since lost its glass, and started running along my planned route.
For the first 600 meters, I ran non-stop in full gear without feeling tired, with a mine in my bag. I left one mine behind, roughly estimating how they might pursue me, and then kept moving along the route. About halfway through, someone spotted me—I don't know if it was our guys, the Russians, or the Legion. They told me they had sent a drone to monitor my retreat, which I didn’t know about, so I was hiding from all drones. One finally spotted me, but I managed to lose it in the trees. I kept moving, but then I heard voices up ahead, and I knew there was a Russian position. I decided not to risk it and took a detour, which added two hours to my journey. But it was fine; the guards were all asleep since it was about 3 or 4 in the morning.
I later found out that after I passed through the forest belt, a vehicle drove by and dropped off some troops to sweep the area. Maybe they were looking for me. In the end, I was delayed by two hours and only reached the meeting point at around 6 AM. I wondered if they would wait for me or if this was all a joke and no one would meet me. Would they ask, 'Who are you?' and possibly even shoot me?
There was one last stretch to cross—a burned-out forest of about 600 meters. I had seen that forest when I first arrived in Ocheretino, but now there were only charred tree trunks left. I put on identification marks so they could recognize me and headed for the rendezvous point. Thankfully, they did meet me. They had told me to come unarmed, but I took my rifle just in case. They led me about 500 meters away from the front line to a position where we waited for transport. There, for the first time, they offered me tea and food while we waited for the vehicle. I still doubted whether they would actually pick me up, whether they’d abandon me at the last minute. But they didn’t. Now I'm here.
Some people just don't want to do anything, but if you want, you can donate money—everyone always needs money. I heard there are some partisan movements inside Russia itself, but I can't imagine how you'd even start a partisan movement there, given that there are ten police officers for every person. Those who wanted to fight have already gone, and those who have doubts will keep doubting forever, always finding an excuse.
We had our routine—wake up, exercise, drills, lunch, more drills, physical training. Boxing doesn’t count as physical training, so it doesn't matter. You just collect extra points with those exercises, physically training yourself. The program was intense, really intense. They teach you how to handle weapons, not so much to turn you into special forces, but to make sure you know how to use weapons properly, so you don’t accidentally kill your comrade because you forgot to keep your finger off the trigger. We’re getting familiar with the different types of weapons."
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I did not translate the rest.