the hunt began for one of the militants, yan grintsevich, nicknamed bogdan, from the ragner battalionfor the murder of police officers, military personnel, activists, and ordinary collective farmers. it's been a barn for 2 years now. khutre, not far from the berm, became a reliable hiding place for the elusive ian. lying on the trestle bed , he once again talked about his life and existence. the day was always a burden. i'm pretty fed up with the society of chickens that keep cackling like dumb sheep. but the night, great deeds and food. my heart was filled with anticipation of the meeting. so peaceful. at 5:00 pm, the door of the barn quietly opened, and a woman literally slipped in, carrying a small bundle of milk. with her usual movements, she began to lay out its contents on the box that served as a table. there was no strength to contain my emotions. sneaking up from behind, bogdan was already feeling the beautiful forms , uttering venom. i'm still waiting for mr. palapit. at the most inopportune moment, the door swung open. on the threshold with a club stood yadi’s enraged husba