The last word is ours!

      This is the life motto of stormtrooper Sergey Chakanov, who returned to peaceful life after a special military operation.

      “How beautiful!” thought Natalia, examining the tall broad-shouldered man with bright green eyes who came to visit the neighbors. There was something in his gaze reminiscent of a summer meadow under the midday sun, and his smile seemed just as warm and comforting. “Sergey,” he simply introduced himself, and this name sounded to Natalia like the beginning of a new chapter in her life. On September 24, the hero of this story will turn 33 years old. Sergey Chakanov will celebrate this birthday at home with his beloved wife Natalia, not on the Ukrainian land torn apart by mines and artillery, not in dusty trenches and stuffy bunkers. “His disarming charm was not in loud words or feigned confidence, but in that rare ease with which he listened and looked straight into the soul. With him, the world became clearer and kinder. And the new acquaintance grew into something more: into shared silence on a bench by the entrance, when words were no longer needed, into the habit of brewing tea just the way the other likes it, into that calm happiness when a loved one is simply there nearby, under one roof in this big world,” Natalia confesses.

      Now they are always together, cherishing every minute of understanding, communication, and that love which comes not in youth, with its impulses and illusions, but in maturity. Their love was woven not from blind passion, but from careful attention. They both know how easily what seems strong can break, so every day they build their world anew — brick by brick of trust, drop by drop of tenderness. And this couple is also united by a date that tied their mature feelings with the bonds of marriage and simultaneously separated them for a long time: on October 16, 2024, Sergey signed his name twice — in the marriage certificate at the Wedding Palace of Leninogorsk and in the contract with the Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation for military service in the zone of the special military operation.

      “Maybe you’ll change your mind?!” — Natalia asked, looking hopefully into her husband’s eyes, although deep down she understood that convincing him was futile. “Darling, take care of yourself, come back alive...” — for Natalia, the days of waiting for a text message or a call crawled by as her heart was torn apart by uncertainty. “I’m on a mission,” — once such a message hung on Natalia’s phone for two weeks of “silence mode”...

      For Sergey and his comrades, a month of intense and exhausting combat and tactical training began, practicing combat coordination in various situations. Sergey successfully mastered engineering and sapper skills, tactical medicine, and drone management. Future stormtroopers were led by experienced instructors. A real training town was built at the training ground: full-scale simulations of various fortifications, underground passages, equipped trenches, and firing points. Sergey “jumped” over anti-tank ditches, stormed earthen mounds, in short, underwent advanced training for service. “The tactic is simple and deadly. Swiftly enter, destroy the enemy, hold positions. On this basis, increase pressure. This is how we will achieve decisive superiority,” — the combat officers sternly instructed the future stormtroopers.

      After a thorough check of documents, the psycho-emotional state of the potential fighter, and a medical selection stage for military coordination, Sergey was enrolled in the 137th Separate Assault Brigade, whose motto spoke for itself: “Knocked down — fight on your knees!” The hero of our story was appointed group commander, received the call sign “Scar,” and his bulletproof vest bore patches with the inscriptions: “Wife said: ‘Take care of yourself,’” “The last word is ours,” and, of course, the coat of arms of the Russian Federation — the country for which our compatriot went to fight. The combat path of the 137th Separate Assault Brigade “Ural” of the “Center” troop grouping is a story of the most complex strikes. Avdiivka, Ocheretino, Krasnoarmeysk. Warriors, among whom was our Sergey, proved their iron effectiveness in battle...

      In December 2024, Sergey received his first injury, which he recounts casually as if it were something trivial. “We were shelled by a mortar, a piece of shrapnel hit my left arm. I spent about two weeks in the hospital: they didn’t remove the shrapnel, just patched me up, bandaged me, and I returned to my comrades,” — smiles the fighter, who soon faced a second injury and other numerous shrapnel left their mark of war on his body...

      On January 24, 2025... The fighters were divided into six “fives” (groups of five fighters each), who were given specific tasks. My interlocutor recalls that fateful dawn: “It was a gray damp morning, although snow lay in places, the ground underfoot had turned into a thick sludge of earth and wet snow. Every step was difficult, my feet in the boots sank to the ankles. It was dark, we had to walk almost by touch: the sticky mud concealed the pits, and the dense veil of fog prevented us from seeing further than two steps. The road turned into an endless struggle with the heavy mud sticking to our boots.” It was around 4 a.m. As they approached the “work” of clearing the settlement of the enemy, the group, in which Sergey was, did not notice the “tripwire” stretched at the level of the soldiers' legs. The first three were mowed down by the exploding grenade, two, according to Sergey, left the task voluntarily. “I didn’t hear anything more about them,” — the fighter waved off: talking about the desertion of those with whom you lived in the same bunker, shared a soldier’s pot, and lent a shoulder in difficult times — is bitter...

      Sergey continues to tell the story of the rescue: “Lyutiy” was seriously injured: both legs were hit. My partner, with the call sign “Stefan,” and I began to drag him behind us in hopes of taking cover in the forest edge. At that moment, we were hit again by the shock wave: we triggered another tripwire and were thrown to the ground. “Guys, if we’re spotted from the air, the mortar will start working on us, we need to move on our bellies!” — as soon as I said this, help arrived for us! It was two “fives” that came for the evacuation of the wounded.”

      For the rescued Sergey, operations, prolonged treatment, and rehabilitation in hospitals in the villages of Velikaya Shishovka of the Shakhtyorsk district of the Donetsk People’s Republic, Ivanovka of the Kharkiv region, and the cities of Izhevsk, Kazan, and Samara began. The military medical commission assigned Sergey Chakanov the category “B”: “Limited fit for military service, enrolled in the reserve,” — is written in the conclusion of the military doctors.

      “Much later, already in the hospital for treatment, I saw “Lyutiy,” unfortunately, the military surgeons could not save his legs, my friend moved in a wheelchair. “Alive!” — I rejoiced, hugging my brother in arms. And “Stefan” returned to the assault brigade after treatment, he is now serving.

      For bravery, courage, and honorable service, Chakanov Sergey Alexandrovich was awarded the medal “For Courage” (12.24.2025), “For Combat Distinctions” (03.18.2025), “Participant of the Special Military Operation.”

      PS. Sergey admits: “Sometimes I dream of war. In conversations with a fighter with whom I served in the same unit, we discuss this. Ibrahim was seriously wounded in both legs in battle. Now he lives in Tolyatti, I want to visit him, to drink a combat shot in memory of fallen friends... Returning to peaceful life is helped by my wife, Natalia. Thoughts of her supported me in harsh soldier’s days. Sitting in the “blinchik” (bunker), I remembered her delicious soups — solyanka and noodles, crispy pickles... And now my wife keeps me “afloat.” With her, we go fishing, sitting in the morning fog over the quiet water, and this silence heals better than any words, only the splash of fish and the laughter of my Natasha can be heard. In such moments, you understand what it was all for. For this dawn over the river, her hands in yours, and the peaceful sky that you once promised yourself and your fallen friends.”

      As I bid farewell to the hero of the special military operation, who is currently moving with the help of a “canadian” (elbow crutch), and his companion, I wish Sergey and Natalia a happy journey. May this “canadian” soon become unnecessary, and may their steps be firm and confident — just like your spirit, fighter!

      Author: Ilmira Gareeva. Photo: from the family archive.