Fiction

EnZi Part One Odesa Chapter 9 The Odesa Sector

by Stanislav Dema
01/20/26
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One of those who became a living symbol of the renewed Coast Guard was Grigory Shevchenko. Before the war, he taught mathematics at one of the Odesa gymnasiums. Strict and attentive, calm, yet fair and sensitive—one of those teachers whom students initially fear, but later remember with respect and warmth.

When the war began, Shevchenko was drafted into the Hetmanate army. He had no military experience, but possessed a sharp and deep mind, as well as a natural ability to lead people. His leadership qualities were noticed even during basic training at the training center. At the front, Shevchenko rose from a private infantryman to a captain, heading a company that even in the hardest times was called "iron." After a tragic air raid that claimed the lives of the commander and the entire battalion staff, Shevchenko was temporarily appointed to command this battalion. He performed so skillfully in this position that he remained a battalion commander until the very end of the war.

Shevchenko never raised his voice and never pressured with his authority. He was always close to his fighters, cared for each of them, and strove to fulfill assigned tasks as effectively as possible, keeping losses to a minimum. Soldiers believed in him and followed him unconditionally. A leader who cares for his people receives from them what cannot be bought for any money or achieved by repression—sincere trust. With such commanders, discipline is based not on the fear of punishment, but on mutual respect and recognition of their authority.

However, Captain Shevchenko had one serious flaw as a military man. He did not know how and did not wish to build "proper" relationships with the higher command. Coming to the army from civilian life and not being a man of the system, he always openly and frankly expressed his opinion when he noticed the incompetence or stupidity of superior officers. At meetings at the end of briefings, when the standard question sounded: "Any questions?", Captain Shevchenko invariably raised his hand and asked them—meticulously, methodically, picking apart the smallest details of the upcoming operation's plan. He loved to repeat that in war, the main thing is logistics, and pointed out errors and inconsistencies until the plan was polished to perfection.

For this, staff officers disliked him and hindered his promotion in every way possible. Shevchenko reciprocated, telling his deputy: "You know, Igor, these staff rats are ready to lay down thousands of soldiers just to pin another medal to their uniform or add a star to their shoulder straps. We must be different. God will ask us for every life lost in vain. We have no right to make a mistake."

When a military reporter once visited his unit and asked what he could advise other commanders to increase unit efficiency, Shevchenko answered very simply:

"Set clear and achievable tasks for a subordinate commander, provide him with the necessary resources and information, and then give him freedom of action. After completing the task, evaluate together with him what was done correctly and where mistakes were made. In case of failure, your task is not to find out who is to blame, but to understand how we can avoid such a situation in the future. If you discover that your subordinate is stupid, overconfident, and unteachable, try to get rid of him by transferring him to a rear position. There will be no sense from such a leader; he will only kill his people and himself.

Now regarding the rank and file. A soldier must be clothed, shod, and fed. He must be trained in a primary specialty and one additional one. All military personnel undergo a basic first aid course with mandatory certification.

When a unit is withdrawn to the rear for rotation, the soldier needs to be given rest. Do not drive people onto the parade ground for senseless drill, do not force them to relay paving stones or dig ditches 'from the guardhouse until noon.' Let municipal services repair roads, and diggers dig ditches.

In wartime conditions, while at the permanent deployment point, personnel must do two things: train and restore strength.

In battle, soldiers must be able to dig in quickly, advance as part of a small group, covering each other with fire while moving. In case of the commander's death, take the initiative.

The most critical condition for high morale is a perfectly functioning medical service. Every fighter must be sure that in case of injury, he will definitely be pulled out, given first aid, and delivered to the hospital as soon as possible.

Also, every soldier must know that if he dies, his family will immediately receive compensation. Family support officers should take care of relatives themselves, not force them to run for documents and ask for help. We should be running after them, because they entrusted us with the most precious thing they have."

Thanks to his intelligence, foresight, and ability to plan, Battalion Commander Shevchenko achieved the lowest level of losses in the unit. And yet there were losses, and every death resonated in his soul with a dull, aching pain. He resigned himself to this pain, understanding that war without losses is impossible, but every loss brought him deep suffering. It was not guilt—Shevchenko's conscience was clear, for he did everything possible to save the lives of his fighters. It was the pain of compassion, the pain of a man who sincerely cared for the people entrusted to him by fate.

When the war ended, the army began to be reduced.

But some were asked to stay—the best.

Shevchenko hesitated at first. He dreamed of returning to civilian life, to his classroom, to students and mathematical problems. But one day, looking at the sea, he said quietly and resolutely:

"If we want such a war never to happen again, we need an army capable of discouraging any invader from attacking."

General Kuz, recently appointed commander of the entire Coast Guard, particularly insisted on his appointment. During the war, Kuz commanded the sector where Shevchenko fought and knew his qualities perfectly well. The General was a wise, farsighted commander, a man with a clear vision of the future. He highly valued this prickly, inconvenient, but incredibly effective battalion commander who commanded genuine respect. Therefore, when the time came to select commanders for key sections of the coast, General Kuz determined without any hesitation who should head the most responsible and difficult sector—the Odesa one.

When Captain Shevchenko took office, he began not with a meeting, but with an inspection.

He personally walked around all fortifications, checked weapons and property, conducted a review of personnel, compiled a detailed report, and sent it to the Main Headquarters of the Coast Guard. And then he began the painstaking work of turning the garrison of his sector into the best unit in the Armed Forces of the Rusyn Hetmanate.

He set himself a simple but ambitious goal: to make the Odesa sector garrison as outstanding as his company and then battalion had once been in the war.

He knew the value of little things that other commanders often overlook.

Shevchenko made colossal efforts to improve the living conditions of the personnel, maintain high morale, and win people over not with words, but with care.

On his initiative, the ministry approved a new, aesthetically and ergonomically verified design of uniforms and equipment. It was necessary to increase the prestige of service in the Coast Guard. For this project, he secured separate funding—including for an information campaign: posters, photos in magazines, interviews on the radio, reports in newspapers.

He understood that an army begins not with a statute—but with pride.

Pride in one's service.

With the support of volunteers from veterans and private foundations, a Guard Reserve Fund was created—to help the families of the fallen, treat the wounded and sick, and pay bonuses. Everything legally correctly processed, everything official.

Also, Coast Guard reserve training camps were opened.

Anyone who wanted to join the movement could take annual courses: shooting, tactics, basics of leadership, driving equipment, radio communication.

Thus, not just a reserve of a branch of troops was being built—an organism of civil defense was being built.

A special achievement was the so-called "flying squads," organized by Shevchenko personally.

Small mobile groups equipped with armored locomobiles with radio stations were on duty around the clock along the entire coastal line.

Upon receiving an alarm signal from observers, they could assemble and move to the point indicated by headquarters in fifteen minutes—whether it was a suspicious boat, armed people, or an intrusion into protected zones.

Thus a system was built where every kilometer of the coast was under observation, and every attempt at infiltration by unfriendly forces was doomed to failure.

But perhaps his subtlest and, as later said, most brilliant initiative was that he established personal relationships with fishermen—and even with some smugglers.

Shevchenko was not a naive man. He understood that he who walks the sea knows the latest gossip and is the first to learn if something unusual happens.

And those who just yesterday feared the military now voluntarily brought him information: about suspicious voyages of speedboats, uncharacteristic light signals, new faces in the docks, or people idly wandering near coastal military facilities.

When one of the staff officers sarcastically remarked that "rumors are circulating that Captain Shevchenko turns a blind eye to the actions of smugglers," he answered simply:

"Let Mr. Yeremenko from customs catch smugglers. That is in his job description.

But mine is to save even one life if danger arises.

And if for this I need to close my eyes to someone's little gesheft—so be it.

It is an insignificant price for an invaluable service."

And it was from this position—verified, principled, human—that he built his relationships with the complex social ecosystem of the Odesa Bay.

Captain Shevchenko's most unusual invention was a control system he himself smilingly called the "Big Shukher" (Big Lookout/Scare).

It was a complex of unexpected combat readiness checks, organized non-standardly, Odesa-style—with imagination, courage, and a touch of humor.

At the heart of the system lay a volunteer detachment formed from Shevchenko's friends and like-minded people—former military men, hunters, entrepreneurs.

They called themselves "Shukhermachers"—half-jokingly, half-seriously.

They did not serve officially, did not receive monetary allowance, and at times acted as pseudo-saboteurs to "invigorate" those guarding real objects.

Once a month, somewhere in the Odesa sector, a penetration attempt was simulated.

Shukhermachers—in dark uniforms, with mock weapons, smoke grenades, and a thorough plan—tried to penetrate a military facility, bypass a patrol, leave a "bomb," steal a pennant, or "destroy" a command post.

The rules were strict:

in case of detection—an orange smoke grenade by day, a red flare by night, mock weapons on the ground, hands up, wait for the duty squad.

So that everything was clear, without nerves, without tragedies.

If the facility successfully repelled the intrusion—the guards received encouragement, a bonus, and personal gratitude from the commander.

If the Shukhermachers managed to do the deed—the guards were reprimanded, and the saboteurs received...

huge moral satisfaction, a reason for jokes, and material for interviews with Odesa journalists.

The press became a particularly piquant element.

Military correspondents, warned in advance, covered the "Big Shukher" in official bulletins:

"Shukhermachers sneaked into the headquarters of the 'Guard' outpost—took a flask of cognac and the unit's banner. Guard commander Warrant Officer Ryabchuk has been seconded for recertification. Says he didn't hear because he overslept."

Or conversely:

"Shukhermachers neutralized on approach to object 'Point 27.' Patrol commander Sergeant Kalinichenko awarded a certificate for vigilance. Managed to catch the 'saboteurs' at dawn and treated them to tea."

Thus, the "Big Shukher" became not just a control system, but a mechanism for the lively encouragement of the responsible and the weeding out of the lazy.

In the army, they said:

"If you want to check your unit—call an auditor.

But if you want to check for real—call the Shukhermachers."

The entire garrison—from officers to duty observers—was, without exaggeration, in love with its commander.

Captain Shevchenko enjoyed not just respect—he became for everyone the kind of man one follows through fire and water.

Sometimes, over a mug of tea or a smoke break, in the tents of summer camps or barracks, a dull murmur sounded:

"How so? Such a man—and still a captain? Where is the justice?.."

The answer was simple.

Shevchenko was not from the system.

A former teacher, direct, without diplomatic bends, he spoke the truth to the faces of people of any position, any rank.

He did not know how to "soften formulations," did not know how to bow, did not build a career—he simply did his job.

And in the Main Headquarters of the Coast Guard, they were somewhat afraid of him and tried to delay his promotion in rank, although factually he occupied a position of colonel level.

But he had one strong ally—General Kuz, commander of the entire Coast Guard.

Kuz knew him personally. Saw how during the war, Shevchenko cared for his people, how he built trust, how competently he advanced, how he held on when others ran.

And then began what could no longer be ignored.

The press began writing about him.

Shukhermachers in every report mentioned his honesty, sense of humor, and professionalism.

Photos from exercises, articles about new volunteer camps, mentions in reports of international observers—all this added up to a media wave that could not be stopped.

And although formally he still wore the shoulder straps of a captain,

everyone knew: a promotion was just around the corner.

In the near future, Shevchenko was supposed to receive the rank of major.

And, as someone in the headquarters said,

"Well, thank God. It's getting kind of embarrassing before the garrison. A captain—yet working like a regiment commander.”