Apricot Jam: And Other Stories (25 page)

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Authors: Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

BOOK: Apricot Jam: And Other Stories
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So, this fellow here is a Sudeten German. He knows a bit of Czech as well. He came to warn us that in another hour or two, here in our sector, the Germans are launching a big general offensive.

 

Maybe he

s just trying to fool us.

 

But why should he? That would make it even worse for him.

 

The German

s voice was pleading, plaintive, even imploring.

 

And he was certainly getting on in years, even older than Kandalintsev.

 

Kandalintsev felt sorry for him. He

d had enough war, the poor fellow.

 

Who wouldn

t have enough after so many years?

 

You poor devil.
And now that we

ve got our hands on you, how many more years before you see your family?

 

He sent the runner
Yursh
to
Adlig
to find Captain Toplev and pass on the information.

 

~ * ~

 

14

 

After questioning the deserter, using the plotter as an interpreter, listening to his voice and seeing how friendly and willing he was, Toplev decided that the man was telling the truth. How did he get away? That was easy enough, across an empty field without a single line of troops on it—why not just walk over?

 

Fine.
We

ll hold the deserter at the headquarters truck.

 

But if he

s telling the truth and hasn

t made a mistake, our guns are completely defenseless. The infantry still haven

t arrived!

 

Toplev was an efficient and thorough officer: Stand at attention! Toe the line! And he always tried to understand the situation, get a full grasp of it, and succeed in what he did.

 

But now, what should he do? What could he do now?

 

H
e had to locate brigade headquarters, and locate it at once!

 

He told the radio operator to call headquarters at once.

 

But still no contact.

 

What

s going on with them? This doesn

t make sense!

 

He grabbed the telephone to call the battalion commander—but what was this? There was no contact here either. There hadn

t been any shelling, so how could the line be broken? He sent out a lineman, cursing, though not using the foulest words. That he never did. That telephone operator was a scatterbrain. You had to watch him every moment!

 

And if he used the radio, how could he explain it? He couldn

t send a message in clear, but they didn

t have the code words to use in a case like this.

Fetch
Ten
,

he ordered the radio operator.

 

He heard Boyev

s voice, deep, always assured and reliable, and he calmed down a bit. Boyev would make the decision now. His eyes fixed on the red eye of the radio, Toplev began a roundabout explanation.

 

Some old guy has just come to us ... He

s not one of ours ... From the other direction, you know ... Doesn

t seem like a liar, and I

ve checked his story from beginning to end. He says that in an hour or two ... and now it

s even
less .
.. He says
they

re coming
! A whole lot of them! That

s right, lots of them ... And there

s still no contact with Ural... What are your orders?

 

Boyev took some time to reply. He wasn

t very talkative in any case. He was thinking. He asked once more:

Still no contact with Ural, you said?

 

Toplev, almost crying, replied:

Not a peep!

 

Boyev thought a bit more.

 


Here

s what we

ll do. Move all of Kasyanov

s people back across the river.
Right away.
Have them take up firing positions there.

 


And the other two?

 

He could even hear Boyev

s sigh through the phone.

 


The other two?
They

ll stay where they are for the moment. But make sure, absolutely sure, they

re on full alert. Now, what

s happened to the telephone line?

 


I don

t know. I

ve sent someone out.

 


Everyone is to be ready for action, watching and listening. The minute anything happens, give me a report.

 

A few minutes later the lineman came running in, swearing it was God

s truth:

In the woods over there somebody

s cut off a piece of wire this long.
Looks like it was done with a knife.
And
there

s tracks
off to the side.

 

The Germans?

 

Here already?

 

~ * ~

 

15

 

And so Baluev and his two scouts walked along the sled tracks to a group of dark figures on an open, snow-covered spot.

 

He introduced himself and explained who he was.

 

Major Boyev, slightly shorter than Baluev, was wearing a white fur jacket.

 

They shook hands. Baluev thought that he had a firm handshake, but Boyev had a grip of iron.

 

They immediately established the easy relationship that was normal on the front line.

 


So where

s your regiment?

 

His regiment! He himself had scarcely had a look at it yet. He replied:

Who positioned your guns in this direction?

 

Boyev

s face broke into a sardonic smile:

Couldn

t do it any other way. That was the order.

 

He explained the situation, as far as he knew it.

 

Though the moon was out, they needed the flashlight to check the map.

 


Petersdorf
?
Yes, that

s where they

ve stuck
me,
or my headquarters at least. It

s close enough to run a line to you here. And I

d come here to use your OP.

 

Still, this wasn

t much of an OP, on flat ground with no cover.

 


Right now I

ve got about two hours to spare. I

d best get on with my own reconnaissance. Where are the Germans? Where

s the best place to put my forward troops?

 

Wouldn

t it be wonderful to know that!

 

Boyev was called to the radio. He squatted beside it.

 

Baluev ran the bright spot of light across the map. If this whole lake is ours, there

s no point putting anything here. We have to be farther forward.

 

Boyev returned and in a deep, quiet voice, away from the soldiers, he passed the news on to Baluev.

 


That

s quite possible,

said Baluev without hesitation, immediately accepting such a situation.

He

ll want to come at us on the first day, before we

ve set up any defenses. He

s pushing forward just because he

s desperate.

 

And then we

d have our front line right here.

 

How soon could he manage to bring up at least a company?

 

Boyev, with his heavy guns, has a much bigger problem.

 

But he

s not panicking.

 

Baluev admitted sincerely:

I haven

t been at the front for a year. I

m just amazed to see how we

re doing in the fourth year of the war. Just as before, they won

t make us lose our nerve.

 

This was only the fourth day Baluev had been in Prussia, but already he had the full sense of being on the front line.

 


Still, I

ll take a walk up forward, to the right of the lake. I

ll let you know what I find. And when I

ve picked a spot for my headquarters, I

ll have a line laid back to you.

 

They had been together in this bare field for no more than a quarter hour. Now they were parting until a telephone line could be laid and they renewed contact. It might well be that they would never see one another again. It was always like that.

 


What

s your first name?

 


Pavel, Pavel
Afanasych
.

 


I

m Vladimir
Kondratych
.

 

They shook hands warmly.

 

Baluev went off with his scouts.

 

Clouds covered the moon.

 

~ * ~

 

16

 

Baluev had survived even his service in the Second Shock Army in the spring of

42, and he had escaped from German encirclement. But then he

d rotted on the
Sozha
River bridgehead for the whole of November

43 and was wounded just two hours before the German withdrawal, when they were already pulling back their troops. His wound was such that he could return to duty after two months in the hospital in Samara. And then, off to the Academy for a year.

 

Now there were few people in the Academy who hadn

t been under fire or been battered by the war. Everyone there knew the price to be paid to keep up the fight. Still, that year of study had been a different world: War had now been elevated to something clear, beautiful, and rational. And it was difficult to keep from thinking that in a year or so, the war might be over. Maybe they

ll get by without me.

 

It hadn

t ended. But how close the end was now! He had tried to catch up with the troops all through northern Poland and Prussia. He hitched rides with anyone going his way and in regimental command vehicles crammed with troops of every sort. When he did catch up to them, he was happy to enter once again the familiar world of the front line. And at such a sublime moment—the capture of East Prussia! (And on a front that was so broadly extended . . .)

 

They walked across the broad expanse, breaking through the crust of the snow. The two scouts followed in silence.

 

He used his compass to find his way.

 

If something was about to start, then
Petersdorf
wouldn

t do; it was in too much of a salient. And how could he manage to get, if not a company, then at least a platoon to string out for protection of the guns near
Adlig
?

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