[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Next to each of the six mugs sittingon the table, there were two cubes of sugar and a chunk of chocolate.Zina invited us to the table with a sweeping gesture. No one touch anything just yet, Zina said with a smile. Two morecomrades will be here shortly, and then Korchnov will tell us how theygave the fascists hell on the Volga. Zinochka, permit us just one swallow of vodka each.It will moistenthe tongue! the Siberian requested. No! Intoxicated men flatter more than they tell the truth.Soon Romanov and Andreyev showed up.We noisily took our seatsaround the holiday table.Zina sat down next to me.Waiting for a momentwhen no one was looking, she tightly squeezed my hand. Volodya asked me to do it. She lowered her head. Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 194Chapter Twenty-threeThe Ruhr Mine WorkerThe next morning we saw that the plywood had disappeared from in frontof the German parapet.The Germans had removed it overnight.Nothingelse seemed to have changed in the vicinity where it had been lying.Korchnov s conjectures hadn t proved correct this time.The same rustycans, buckets, and rolls of barbed wire were scattered on the Germanbreastwork, just as they had been before.But what had been writtenon this piece of plywood? Who was the German who had stood up, leavinghis cover and risking his life?The front-line days and weeks passed in turn.We started to forgetabout the plywood, and would have forgotten it entirely, if one unex-pected episode at the front hadn t reminded us of it.One night in the first half of March 1943, we learned that our formercompany commander Viktor Vladimirovich Kruglov had returned aftera lengthy absence.As soon as Zina learned that he was at the commandpost, she forcibly dragged Andreyev and me to Kruglov s bunker.Wehadn t even had time to exchange greetings with our combat-friend,however, when the door of the bunker flew open, and in flew a cringingGerman in a tattered camouflage cloak; right behind him, a fumingSergey Naydenov appeared in the doorway.Where and when he hadmanaged to capture this prisoner, no one knew.The German, catchingsight of a Soviet officer, hastily started to sputter a stream of unintelli-gible words. Petya, tell him to be quiet, Kruglov appealed to Romanov. If we needsomething, we ll ask him.Naydenov growled, That s just how he gave me no peace along theentire way here, chattering like a machine gun. The German fell silent,pulled his head into his shoulders, but his cold blue eyes followed us withinterest. Where did you capture him? Kruglov asked Naydenov. There were two of them, Comrade Major.They were creeping intono-man s-land.We kept our eyes on them, and when they approachedour trench, we nabbed them.The sergeant in charge kept one with him,194 Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 195The Ruhr Mine Worker 195and ordered us to bring this one to the company command post. Tell the sergeant to bring the other one here too.Naydenov quickly disappeared into the darkness of the trench. Petya, ask him what he was doing in no-man s-land. He says that they were coming to warn us that they had received freshforces.They re allegedly preparing to storm the city. Tell him that s an old story, and now tell him to lay out everythingfrankly.Give him a sheet of paper let him write down what he knows.Romanov gave the prisoner a sheet of paper and a pencil.The Germanbrightened considerably and quickly began to scribble lines.Soon the other prisoner was led into the bunker.This one was a huskyGerman with red hair and a bullish head, seemingly around 35 to 40 yearsof age.His thick, short neck strained the collar of his filthy, worn uniform.The German s large eyes looked directly at us, without any timidity.Hequietly took a seat on the edge of a bunk, and spreading his legs widely,placed one enormous hand on his knee, and with the other wiped the backof his neck, while shooting side glances at Naydenov.Seeing his comrade leaning over a sheet of paper, the red-headed giantin a stentorian deep voice said: Streich, what are you writing? A last willand testament to your son, or a complaint to von Leeb? Toss it aside,Streich.We re in a pickle.If you don t have enough of your own sense,then you d better know that the Russians won t loan you any.You and Ihave finished fighting, and thank God.Romanov walked up to the red-haired German: What s your name?The prisoner, finding a Russian officer in front of him, leaped to hisfeet, but answered simply and proudly: Artur Goldrein, a Ruhr mineworker, fighting since 1939. Then giving a wave of his hand to hiscomrade, cheerfully laughed: What did I just tell you, Streich? We re upthe creek! But God grant that each get out of the game in this way! What were you doing in no-man s-land? Probing for mines, clearing a passage for our scouts.But once we putour foot in it, our guys didn t come. Goldrein wonderingly spread hisarms and continued: It had to happen, for four years I ve been crawlingaround between the lines, and nothing ever went wrong until now.Well,what of it! Let someone else take over my job, because I m through withthis dance with death.For some time we d been paying no attention to the other German; hewas still writing something, at the same time listening to the conversationbetween his comrade and the Russian officer.Romanov, walking up tohim, said: Can you recall which one of your soldiers back in February put Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 196196 Red Sniper on the Eastern Frontup a plywood sheet on the breastwork, which had something written onit? Ha, ha, ha! the red-haired German burst out laughing. The plywood!It was one of our oddballs, who had thought to joke a bit over the Russians.He took a sheet of plywood and wrote on it with a black paint: I congrat-ulate the Ivans on Soviet Army Day. Joker! Well, what of it? Our side doesn t like such jokes.This soldier, I heard, received a bulletin the back of the head for his bit of fun.Too bad for the good man. Is it true that fresh troops have moved into your positions? What the hell kind of fresh troops? They ve all gone mouldy long ago.They ve all been patched up, like me and my hand, and Streich and hisbutt.Ha, ha! Have a lot like them arrived? Everything we have needs to be reduced ten times.Reckon for your-selves: if a division has come up, how many men would it really have?They began to take away the prisoners to regiment headquarters [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl milosnikstop.keep.pl
.Next to each of the six mugs sittingon the table, there were two cubes of sugar and a chunk of chocolate.Zina invited us to the table with a sweeping gesture. No one touch anything just yet, Zina said with a smile. Two morecomrades will be here shortly, and then Korchnov will tell us how theygave the fascists hell on the Volga. Zinochka, permit us just one swallow of vodka each.It will moistenthe tongue! the Siberian requested. No! Intoxicated men flatter more than they tell the truth.Soon Romanov and Andreyev showed up.We noisily took our seatsaround the holiday table.Zina sat down next to me.Waiting for a momentwhen no one was looking, she tightly squeezed my hand. Volodya asked me to do it. She lowered her head. Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 194Chapter Twenty-threeThe Ruhr Mine WorkerThe next morning we saw that the plywood had disappeared from in frontof the German parapet.The Germans had removed it overnight.Nothingelse seemed to have changed in the vicinity where it had been lying.Korchnov s conjectures hadn t proved correct this time.The same rustycans, buckets, and rolls of barbed wire were scattered on the Germanbreastwork, just as they had been before.But what had been writtenon this piece of plywood? Who was the German who had stood up, leavinghis cover and risking his life?The front-line days and weeks passed in turn.We started to forgetabout the plywood, and would have forgotten it entirely, if one unex-pected episode at the front hadn t reminded us of it.One night in the first half of March 1943, we learned that our formercompany commander Viktor Vladimirovich Kruglov had returned aftera lengthy absence.As soon as Zina learned that he was at the commandpost, she forcibly dragged Andreyev and me to Kruglov s bunker.Wehadn t even had time to exchange greetings with our combat-friend,however, when the door of the bunker flew open, and in flew a cringingGerman in a tattered camouflage cloak; right behind him, a fumingSergey Naydenov appeared in the doorway.Where and when he hadmanaged to capture this prisoner, no one knew.The German, catchingsight of a Soviet officer, hastily started to sputter a stream of unintelli-gible words. Petya, tell him to be quiet, Kruglov appealed to Romanov. If we needsomething, we ll ask him.Naydenov growled, That s just how he gave me no peace along theentire way here, chattering like a machine gun. The German fell silent,pulled his head into his shoulders, but his cold blue eyes followed us withinterest. Where did you capture him? Kruglov asked Naydenov. There were two of them, Comrade Major.They were creeping intono-man s-land.We kept our eyes on them, and when they approachedour trench, we nabbed them.The sergeant in charge kept one with him,194 Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 195The Ruhr Mine Worker 195and ordered us to bring this one to the company command post. Tell the sergeant to bring the other one here too.Naydenov quickly disappeared into the darkness of the trench. Petya, ask him what he was doing in no-man s-land. He says that they were coming to warn us that they had received freshforces.They re allegedly preparing to storm the city. Tell him that s an old story, and now tell him to lay out everythingfrankly.Give him a sheet of paper let him write down what he knows.Romanov gave the prisoner a sheet of paper and a pencil.The Germanbrightened considerably and quickly began to scribble lines.Soon the other prisoner was led into the bunker.This one was a huskyGerman with red hair and a bullish head, seemingly around 35 to 40 yearsof age.His thick, short neck strained the collar of his filthy, worn uniform.The German s large eyes looked directly at us, without any timidity.Hequietly took a seat on the edge of a bunk, and spreading his legs widely,placed one enormous hand on his knee, and with the other wiped the backof his neck, while shooting side glances at Naydenov.Seeing his comrade leaning over a sheet of paper, the red-headed giantin a stentorian deep voice said: Streich, what are you writing? A last willand testament to your son, or a complaint to von Leeb? Toss it aside,Streich.We re in a pickle.If you don t have enough of your own sense,then you d better know that the Russians won t loan you any.You and Ihave finished fighting, and thank God.Romanov walked up to the red-haired German: What s your name?The prisoner, finding a Russian officer in front of him, leaped to hisfeet, but answered simply and proudly: Artur Goldrein, a Ruhr mineworker, fighting since 1939. Then giving a wave of his hand to hiscomrade, cheerfully laughed: What did I just tell you, Streich? We re upthe creek! But God grant that each get out of the game in this way! What were you doing in no-man s-land? Probing for mines, clearing a passage for our scouts.But once we putour foot in it, our guys didn t come. Goldrein wonderingly spread hisarms and continued: It had to happen, for four years I ve been crawlingaround between the lines, and nothing ever went wrong until now.Well,what of it! Let someone else take over my job, because I m through withthis dance with death.For some time we d been paying no attention to the other German; hewas still writing something, at the same time listening to the conversationbetween his comrade and the Russian officer.Romanov, walking up tohim, said: Can you recall which one of your soldiers back in February put Red Sniper on the Eastern Front - Printer PDF.qxd 30/11/2009 14:23 Page 196196 Red Sniper on the Eastern Frontup a plywood sheet on the breastwork, which had something written onit? Ha, ha, ha! the red-haired German burst out laughing. The plywood!It was one of our oddballs, who had thought to joke a bit over the Russians.He took a sheet of plywood and wrote on it with a black paint: I congrat-ulate the Ivans on Soviet Army Day. Joker! Well, what of it? Our side doesn t like such jokes.This soldier, I heard, received a bulletin the back of the head for his bit of fun.Too bad for the good man. Is it true that fresh troops have moved into your positions? What the hell kind of fresh troops? They ve all gone mouldy long ago.They ve all been patched up, like me and my hand, and Streich and hisbutt.Ha, ha! Have a lot like them arrived? Everything we have needs to be reduced ten times.Reckon for your-selves: if a division has come up, how many men would it really have?They began to take away the prisoners to regiment headquarters [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]