1995.Chechnya. The last few months were the most terrible both in the life of Makarov and in the life of his fighters. Serving in the army is one thing, but participating in a full-fledged war is completely different.

There is real hell going on around you. A hail of bullets and shells are flying straight from the air. Compared to the enemy, your army was much worse armed. In just a few months, so many young guys were killed that you didn’t want to fight at all.

Now you and Makarov were sitting behind the dilapidated wall of what was once a residential building. Tired, having lost hope and faith, you two were simply smoking. As if you both had no hope of getting out of here. As if this was the last day in your lives.