‘Then the boys wrapped Davit in their uniforms and placed white stones around him’: Mother of the fallen soldier

Hayzinvor.am reports: ‘The enemy initiated a large-scale attack. Sniper Davit Adoian served from September 27 to October 4, 2020, in the unit’s defense. The battalion engaged in combat with full force, inflicting significant losses on the enemy in terms of armored vehicles, automotive equipment, and personnel, but due to the imbalance of forces, had to retreat to the ‘9th km’ area, where regrouping was carried out.

On October 5 and 6, they defended at a site called ‘Tozaran intersection’, where Davit Adoian, along with his squad commander and fellow soldiers, found themselves encircled. They fought against enemy sabotage groups, causing them considerable losses. On October 7, they were moved to the city of Hadrut and stationed at a school for regrouping. On October 9, they resumed defense in the Hadrut ‘Khorhat mountain’ area. On October 10, during the advance of another group of enemy saboteurs, Davit Adoian actively participated in the fighting, inflicting many losses on the enemy, but was encircled and wounded.

On October 10, to halt the advance of the enemy saboteur group, he engaged in combat in close proximity and remained encircled with 21 servicemen. On October 28, he succumbed to severe injuries.’

This article is titled ‘The Combat Path’. This is the combat journey of 18-year-old Davit Adoian, which lasted 30 days. A period that transcended ordinary measures. A time when every moment was a trial of will, bravery, honor, and patriotism...

‘My son passed his combat path with glory,’ says the soldier’s mother, Lilyan, ‘he stood firm until the end... I will ask later what brought honor to a soldier who passed the combat path. I will know later what it means to stand firm in encirclement when you are surrounded by enemy militants... When you are severely wounded, but tell your family it’s just a little scratch, and with your last strength, you fire at the enemy. But now I want to banish that image, I want the “frames” of war to disappear, I want to rewind time so that the soldier smiles, speaks, dreams...’

‘Let’s start from the very beginning,’ I say to the soldier's mother, ‘Tell me about Davit’s childhood...’ A slow, majestic smile blossoms on her face. ‘He was the youngest of my three sons, the light of our home, the joy of our house. He first got into football. One of the coaches noticed Davit’s talent while playing in the yard and suggested he train at “Alashkert”. As he grew older, he became interested in cooking. More precisely, his friends inspired this idea—Sevak, Vardan, and Sahak. They were peers and had been friends since kindergarten... All four participated in the 44-day war and remained loyal friends until the end...’

‘Did Sevak, Vardan, and Sahak also love cooking?’ I ask.

‘All four were accepted into the culinary college. After graduating, Davit continued his education at the agricultural institute’s winemaking department. He dreamed of opening a winery and producing wine. He had even decided on the name for the wine—“Davitain”. I am an incorrigible dreamer; I immediately decided to produce wine under the name “Davitain”, with a small message from a soldier of the homeland. I even imagine the green label of the wine in the color of the army...’

‘Why are you smiling?’ the mother asks. I shrug and say nothing.

‘Children loved Davit very much,’ she unexpectedly says, ‘they used to run and hug his legs. My Davit grew up, but the purity of a child never left him. He loved his grandmother so much, saying—“The world aside, my grandmother aside...” My husband holds the rank of lieutenant colonel and wanted Davit to serve in the Russian army, but Davit categorically refused, saying—“I will serve in our Armenian army...” He was very happy in the service; everyone loved Davit—commanders, friends... Don’t think I'm boasting about my son; I shake my head negatively; no, I don’t think that way...’

‘He was severely wounded, but he told us it was a light scratch. Rescued friends tell us that when they would find water or food while encircled, they would give it to the wounded first, Davit wouldn’t take it, he said—“Share equally with everyone.” When the Turks attacked, Davit, wounded, told the boys—“I will hold your back with fire; you try to break the encirclement.” But the friends disagreed… They say Davit died in his sleep. They say Artash was crying like a child... Artash, Sevak, Sahak, Vardan... The mother talks about her son’s friends like this:

‘Then the boys wrapped Davit in their uniforms and placed white stones around him. With their uniforms wrapped around him, the hero soldier who will sleep forever.... Something is happening in my head. I can't hear; I see what the mother is narrating...’

‘We have not lost,’ I say, ‘we are now stronger... because now, in each of us, a heroic soldier sleeps, wrapped in the uniforms of his comrades. This air we breathe is filled with words. We are now stronger than ever…’

The woman looks at me, puzzled by my sudden emotional uplift:

‘Did Davit’s three childhood friends—Sevak, Vardan, and Sahak—return from the war?’ I ask, no longer afraid of the answer.

‘Sevak also fell,’ Lilyan responds.