Миссия начинается!
It was February 5, 2001, in the small town of Yasny, in Russia's Orenburg Oblast. Amidst the fury of a record-breaking snowstorm, a group of highly intelligent and advanced mice called "The Grigoriy Clan" had cleverly hitched a ride on an old but well-maintained Soviet-era military truck that was used by "Squad 3." If the drill to Mezhgorye in the Republic of Bashkortostan is a success, they'll be one step closer to their mission in Hawaii.
These three remarkable rodents huddled together inside a crate on the cargo bed. The biting cold seeped through the metal walls, but the mice remained focused on their mission. Commander Grigoriy, with his keen strategic mind, had meticulously planned every detail of this journey.
Technician Grigoriy was responsible for ensuring that their equipment was functioning properly and ready to withstand the extreme conditions of the storm. At the same time, Observer Grigoriy, with his ever-watchful gaze, kept a constant lookout for any potential threats or obstacles along the way. The mice knew that their success depended on their ability to blend in seamlessly with their surroundings and avoid detection.
Operating in a Russian snowstorm is zero-visibility warfare. There was no sky, no road, and no horizon. Squad 3 was pinned between the phosphorescent signature of the lead vehicle’s markers and the dim, red pulse of the rear-guard in the mirror.
A pack of wolves howled nearby as the lights on the vehicle started to flicker. Technician Grigoriy warned his comrades to "stand fast" because there's an issue with the battery system. Suddenly, the vehicle came to a halt. The cargo compartment door burst open with an ominous thud, and the human soldiers grabbed a backup battery. This was alarming considering the drill had just started, and Squad 3 had only one more backup battery left.
"THE HUMANS ARE IN TROUBLE," said Observer Grigoriy, who could make out the ghostly silhouettes of a massive wolf pack. Out of nowhere, a bear growled, and the wolf pack bolted away barking. This gave the humans enough time to retreat into their vehicles.
"It's Uncle Bear," said Commander Grigoriy. He went as far as he could go to protect the Grigoriy Clan. All the animals in this region fear this bear, which is as tough as a tank. He purposely growled as he loped away so the humans would know that he had left. The humans finished installing their backup battery and continued their drill.
By sunrise, the storm’s fury waned and transitioned to a beautiful scenery that looked like a living winter postcard. Command post had given Squad 3 directions for a link-up operation in Gay to swap their dead battery and refuel their vehicles.
The Grigoriy Clan waited nervously in their secret hiding spot as the humans inspected their vehicles and grabbed MREs from the crate next to them. They overheard the humans saying that the west route was blocked due to snow that was taller than their engine.
Earlier in the day, a garbage truck had accidentally dropped trash bags on the bridge to the north of Tashtugai. Squad 3 didn't want to risk damaging their snow blower truck, so they manually cleared the debris.
"The Americans would have called for a global news report and a rescue fleet. We just need a bigger shovel and a bit of patience," Squad 3 joked.
As they passed Sosnovka, it became dark for the second time during their drill. The wind started howling like a pack of wolves being mauled by Uncle Bear, and the outdoor thermometer dipped to -21.6°F.
The last three hours were the hardest. Visibility was reduced to mere meters, and Squad 3 relied on instinct and unwavering trust in its drivers. Each man knew their truck, understood its limits, and pushed themselves beyond what seemed reasonable.
Finally, through the swirling snow, they saw a cluster of blurry lights. At long last, they had reached the outskirts of their destination. The entire trip took twenty-three hours and seven minutes.
Despite the grueling ride, the clan showed no signs of fatigue; the presence of S.K. Grigoriy who was waiting for them was enough to bolster their spirits. They soon tucked into a warm cubbyhole, shared a massive piece of cheese, and fell asleep reminiscing about past missions.
Commander Grigoriy woke up after having a vivid dream of three Pacific golden plovers huddling together in a snowy hollow resembling a cross. In the dream, he heard a voice say, “I ask you to help these birds.” This puzzled him, because the species never appears in Russia during the winter.
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